Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh come on!”

The little circle gadgety-thing has rolled off the coffee table and under some plants by the window. It’s one of those modern companies who favour bean bags and pinball machines over desks and bookcases.

You put down the cleaning cloth and get down on your hands and knees between two ferns, trying to locate the runaway.

“Ah! There you are!”

You’re shuffling out backwards, clutching the turquoise desk-ornament triumphantly when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

When you turn, it’s to see a man, maybe a little older than you, wearing a smart suit. He’s staring at you. You blush and scramble to your feet, brushing off the knees of your jeans, trying to pretend that you haven’t just been wiggling your ass at a total stranger. You bow and then wave the little circle thing in explanation.

“Sorry Sir, your desk ornament jumped off the desk! I was just…err.. Anyway, I found it. Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was still here. I’ll come back and clean later.”

You bow again and realise he’s speaking.

“It’s uh, it’s fine. I work flexi, I’m always here late.” He shakes his head, frowning. “I’m sorry, who..how are you here?”

You blink at the phrasing. “I’m the new after-hours cleaner, Sir. Mrs Choi sent me. I do this floor and sometimes upstairs. Not often though I hope, they’re all accountants up there!”

Your grin fades as you realise you’re waffling like an idiot in your embarrassment, Shut up!

A ghost of a smile has crossed his face; you notice it when you risk a glance up. His suit is dark, his hair slicked back and his skin is incredible, Oh My God!

You’ve always had a bit of a thing for suits on a man and he’s certainly making this one look good. His eyes sweep over your black jeans and Uni hoody and you recognise the confusion in them. You know what his next question will be before he opens his pink pouty mouth.

“Your Korean is exceptional.” There’s a question in his statement.

You shrug, resigned to repeating the conversation that you have several times on a daily basis.

You have a range of replies at your disposal, which range from brief: ‘So is yours!’ Sarcastic; ‘really? I’ve only been learning for a month!’ Or snarky, ‘wish I could say the same for you!’

For this man, you’ll stick with the response for inquisitive grandmothers and higher-ups.

“I was born here, Sir. My father teaches languages at SNU.”

“Ah. I see. And you don’t go to university yourself?”

“I do, Sir, at SWU. But books are expensive, so..” You shrug and gesture to the little red vacuum cleaner which for some inexplicable reason has a cheery face stencilled onto the front.

He nods. “I see. Well, If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting. Thanks for rescuing my vibrator!”

He holds a hand out to take the thing and smirks at the look of horror which must cross your face. You drop the little gadget into his hand and wipe your hand on your thigh.

He’s still smirking. “I’ll let you get on, err….?” He’s waiting for your name, which you helpfully supply and he repeats.

“Min Yoongi” he introduces himself. “I’m a designer here at ‘Sleek Satisfaction’.

It had been a slight shock to discover what kind of business ‘Sleek Satisfaction’ does.

The next day you’re emptying the trash can and eyeing the collection of little round silicone spheres on the table which seem to be another kind of vibratorish-thing.

Mr Min picks one up and you smirk to yourself.

He startles you a little when he suddenly speaks.

“I take it you don’t approve of the sex toy industry?” he asks, eyebrows raised. He must have clocked your expression. Oops.

“I..No, it’s not that, I mean I have my own…uh…” You tail off. It’s surely not appropriate to discuss your sex toys with your seniors, is it? But what about this is normal?

Mr Min looks as though all of this is completely normal. Because to him of course, it is.

“So, you don’t mind buying them, but no-one should make them?”

You look at him nervously, but he’s not cross, his dark eyes are just curious, mischievous, even.

You sigh. “It doesn’t make sense does it? I don’t have a problem, really. I just never thought about it before. I mean, God, I’m a design student, of course someone has to design them!”

“You study design?” he folds his arms and quirks a brow.

“It’s my major,” you confess. “And I don’t have a problem with it at all, it’s just…unfamiliar and I’ve always seen this stuff as a bit, you know, naughty, I guess.”

He shrugs. “Yep, that’s fair, that’s a pretty normal response.”

“Yeah, well now these things are everywhere around here and it’s kind of funny to me.’

You tip the waste -paper bin into a bag, working as you talk because you still have three offices to go. You shouldn’t really be in here because this room isn’t on the cleaning schedule until tomorrow, but you’d needed to check in to see if Mr Min’s skin is still utter perfection.

It is.

Tying the binbag, you waggle it at him. “Well, that’s me done, Sir!”  Nodding towards the little round silicone things on the table you smirk.

“I’ll leave you to play with your balls!”

There’s a pause and you mentally slap yourself. Wrong audience, idiot!

You look back at him, holding your breath, and to your relief he huffs a surprised laugh at your audacity.

You shake your head and give a little bow of apology. “I’m sorry. See? It’s funny! I’ll go now!”

You leave him smiling at his tablet and head for the next office.

“This the new one then, Sir?”

You’re eying Mr Min’s whiteboard a week later.

In another circumstance it would look like a nine year old boy had been graffiti-ing penises behind the teacher’s back. Here, you’ve discovered, it’s just par for the course.

Mr Min is dressed down today, less formal and looking younger somehow. He may also be the only man in the entire world who can make a yellow cardigan look good. Standing up with a wince for some reason, he circles his shoulder a couple of times and picks up his coffee, moving around the table to look at the board with you.

The sketched design there is slim, unremarkable, simple.

You fold your arms and study the picture. “It doesn’t have the other bit though?”

He sips his drink, one hand in his pocket and glances at you. “The other bit?”

Your cheeks heat a little. “Yeah, you know the last one had the uh, butt…bit.”

“Ah” He shakes his head. “The double. No. We’re thinking this one’ll do well in the introductory market. For people who haven’t used them before.”

He smiles properly at you, looking ridiculously soft and cute, considering the conversation. God he’s gorgeous. “Our research shows that some people find that the ‘butt bit’ can be intimidating.”

You look back to the board and regard it thoughtfully. “My first dildo?” You suggest.

He nods and smiles. “Something like that.”

“Entry level!” you smirk.

The smirk turns into a laugh, because you’re actually very pleased with yourself. God you’re hilarious, and look at you, joking about sex toys with the cute-but-sexy businessman. It’s like you’re an adult and everything!

When you look back at him he’s laughing at you, shaking his head and you feel a little jump in your chest.

“Go do some dusting or something!” he grins.

Two days later, you shift a glossy piece of paper on his coffee table and pick it up to dust underneath it. It’s an advert for the new product; grey, sleek, metallic looking.

You look at the design objectively for the first time, without feeling that it’s something taboo.

“What do you think?” Mr Min’s voice is deep and gravelly and delicious. He’s sprawled, manspreading on the sofa, legs apart. drawing on a glossy tablet with a stylus, and for a second you just ogle him. He’s wearing a light brown suit today and his shirt of the same colour looks kind of silky and soft, you think. He tilts his head and you realise he’s waiting for your response.

“Oh! Umm..It looks smart. A bit…dunno…Hi tech? Is it supposed to be uh, the same as, uh…the real thing..or better?”

He shrugs. “Depends what you do with it. It’s got a variety of settings, you know the kind.”

You scan over the description. “Not really” you muse. “Mine only has one, it’s just, from the supermarket, you know? The little ones…” you stop, cheeks warming as you reveal far too much about your lonely, untechnical sex life.

“You know we have an outlet store here? You can pick up a re-conditioned toy cheap if you want.”

“Second hand?” you splutter, “Oh God, No!”

He laughs at this, shoulders shaking in mirth and shakes his head. “They’re not second hand! They’re re-conditioned! They’re like new!”

You shake your head in mock disgust and he smiles, nodding to the advert.

“Well, we probably have some prototypes of these lying around. I’ll see if I can find one. Shouldn’t be too hard.”.

You smirk, turning to unplug the vacuum cleaner.

What the hell, you got away with it last time.

“No such thing as too hard, Sir!”

He doesn’t reply but as you leave, you catch sight of his grin.

Yoongi checks his watch. She’ll be here soon, his cleaning-girl. He wonders briefly when he started to think of her as his.

She’s bright, snarky, engaging and a little naughty, not really like any girl he’s met but he’s started to think that she’s everything he likes. Doesn’t hurt that she’s a total stunner, if you like that look.

He does.

Likes it a little too much if he’s honest.

But she also makes him laugh every damn time he sees her, and he doesn’t do a lot of laughing these days.

He’s a little shocked to realise that he wants to get to know her better.

He enjoys her.

It’s a dangerous game though. If he gets this wrong it’s all over. He can’t initiate anything, she could have him up on a workplace harassment charge and heading to HR in an instant.

He stretches his hands over his head and re-rolls his sleeve up. He’s not used to this, that’s the problem; pretty girls don’t normally flirt with him, they go for his taller, more confident friends, though come to think of it, he doesn’t really go out much anymore, hasn’t since Hwa-yeon left him and moved out.

That was a year wasted.

He picks up the toy he’s bought and places it on the desk. He’d like to leave a note ‘Let me know if you need any help with this,’ or something, but he can’t think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound creepy.

He’ll have to wait it out, he decides. See if she’s genuinely interested or if she’s just fun and flirty.

Hell, a girl like that? She’s probably not even single.

When you saunter into his office on Thursday evening you appreciate the tidiness of it, having just finished doing overtime in the chaos upstairs. The leery accountants had all gone though, thank God.

“Ugh, just cleaned the big boss’s desk, it was actually sticky! God knows what goes on up there. Did you hear that rumour? About him and the secretary?”

Min snorts absently, scribbling on a handout. “Not a fan of desk-sex, then?”

You pause and he looks up at you in horror, as though just realising what he’s said. You giggle at his expression and wave a hand.

“Well, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it!” You can’t quite make eye contact, running a cloth along the edge of a shelf, before shooting him a quick look to gauge his response.

“Really?” He’s smirking now “Over the desk? That’s a little cliché, don’t you think?”

You shrug, aiming for nonchalance despite your racing heart.

“You’ve read too many of those bondage books” He thinks for a moment, brow furrowing. “Err, 50…ropes and …knots?”

You snort, the pressure in your chest releasing a little. “Pretty sure that’s a sailing manual, Sir.”

He’s laughing quietly now and you flush, recalling that this conversation started with him asking about desk sex. You can’t get a read on him. You’re used to guys coming on strong, being direct because they assume that’s how you work. But you can’t figure out if Mr Min is interested or just having fun with you. And talking about sex is just a part of his job, so it doesn’t mean anything, right?

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing.

“Well, if that’s all Sir, I’ll get on to the other rooms. Mr Jung’s wood needs a good going-over!” You chance another glance up at him.

He’s still laughing as you leave.

It’s after midnight and Yoongi’s at home, trying to sleep. He turns over the pillow and lets his mind drift once again to the cleaning girl.

God, she’ll be the death of him. Waltzing in, with her saucy little one-liners and those tight black jeans.

He’d love to talk her out of them, he thinks, love to peel them off her, slide them down her slender thighs, get a glimpse of what’s underneath. His body reacts immediately and he shocks himself with the sudden surge of lust he feels.

Yoongi indulges himself in his fantasy for a moment.

Or he’d just have her strip for him in the middle of his office.

He’s struck by the vision of her, naked on his office sofa, begging for him.

‘Please Sir, I need you so bad!’

(He might have to work on his imaginary talk, he thinks, but it’ll do for now.) He settles back against the pillow and takes a hold of himself, starts to stroke to the movie he’s creating in his head.

He pushes her down on the sofa, tells her to be quiet. Tells her to shut up.

Yeah, that’s good. He’d never actually do that, he thinks, but that’s what fantasies are for, right?

“Shh, baby, be a good girl for me’ he’s telling her. She’ll do whatever he says now he’s got her naked.

Maybe he’d make her touch herself.

He tells her to rub her wet pussy for him, to make herself come.

Perfect.

Then he’s spreading her legs and fucking into her, over and over again, making her scream. She’s so tight and wet. She tells him he’s too big, tells him its too much but he tells her No; she can just fucking take it. He just pushes her legs up and fucks her harder.

Yeah, that’s perfect. He smirks to himself. He’s a terrible person, having such filthy fantasies about someone real, but he’s so turned on, working himself faster now, getting close.

She comes again, eyes wide, screaming his name, squirting all over his cock, all over the sofa, milking him, making him come hard inside her tight cunt.

That’s it, Oh God, yes, fuck. 

He shudders through his climax and stares, panting, at the ceiling for a while. Then he cleans himself up, still feeling a little guilty, and finally falls asleep.

“So, you’ve got a new job, love?”

You’re at the weekly family dinner where your Eomma is cooking up a storm to reward you for spending an hour on the bus to get here.

She’s possibly the best stepmum ever; no-nonsense, tough-as-they-come and doesn’t care for the opinions of others. Not every Korean woman would have the guts to marry a foreign widower with a two year old child; she’s fought your corner every step of the way.

“S’just cleaning, Dad. Fitting it in around Uni, it’s just an office building.”

“Ah. And what do they do there? What’s the business?” Your Dad carries a steaming bowl of rice to the table and sits down, looking at you expectantly.

You’ve prepared for this. “They design toys, Dad.”

“Design, huh? Think they have internships going?”

You pale at the thought of ever having to explain to your parents that you you’re spending your internship designing vibrating butt plugs. You’re saved by your stepmum.

“Ooh, toys, I bet you love that!” She’s dealing out bowls like some kind of crockery croupier. “All those plushies on your bed, it’s a miracle there’s room for you!”

“You can get me some plushies Unnie, if they’re free!” your little sister flicks her shiny black hair over her shoulder and looks at you hopefully.

“It’s not a factory, guys, they don’t make them there. And they don’t do plushies anyway, its all..uh, y’know, plastic toys, moulded plastic, or silicone or whatever.”

“Ooh!” your little brother’s onto this immediately, almond eyes rounding. “Do they have a Captain America?

You frown, thinking. “Actually, I think they might!”

It’s Friday night and your friend Lucy has talked you into going out. You’re not prepared to take the evening off and lose pay, so you’ll change at work and meet her at whatever overpriced wine bar she’s selected.

Mr Min isn’t here tonight, which is good in a way, because you get through the job quickly and head to the ladies’ room with your bag of goodies.

When you emerge 20 minutes later, you’re a new woman. Smoky eyes? Check. Little black dress? Check. Loose waves? Check.

You strut down the hallway, bundling your jeans and hoody into your tote bag and jab the button for the elevator, which looks to be heading to you from the floor above.

Perfect!

You look at your reflection in the shiny doors and discover that you actually look fucking awesome; it’s been far too long since you got dressed up for a night out. What drink should you order first? A frozen margarita would be nice. Or a negroni? That’s a good choice; not too sweet…

The lift dings and opens and you look up. And stop.

Mr Min is standing directly in front of you. He stares. You stare back. The doors start to close and you jam an arm in to stop them, stepping into the little square space as he moves back.

Mr Min clears his throat. His voice sounds a little strained. “You look..err.. you look nice, off on a date?”

“Err, no, just drinks with a friend. I don’t date much.”

He nods and you suddenly realise you should select a floor.. He’s looking at your legs, you realise, yes, he’s definitely checking you out. You feel bold, sexy and careless and you turn to him.

Your hand hovers over the panel and you smirk at him before pressing the button for the ground floor.

“So, Sir.” You flick your hair over your shoulder and arch a brow.

“Going down?”

Chapter Text

Fuck, he’s an idiot.

He should have offered to take her to the bar himself, but his brain had seized. What an idiot!

God, she’d looked good. So, so good. He’s going to spend a lot of time thinking about that dress later. Who knew she was hiding all that under those baggy hoodies?

If he’d ditched his meeting and offered to go with her maybe he could have seen more of her. Maybe he’d have been the one peeling that dress off her tonight.

Then again, maybe she’d be the girl flirting with his friends instead. He’ll never know now. He’s going to have to find out, going to have to do something.

Fuck, he’s an idiot.

He replays the scene once his meeting ends and his colleagues have taken the hint and gone home.

She’d been so forward, if the lift hadn’t stopped for Mrs Choi to get on, then who knows what might’ve happened. What would he have done next? He sighs, settles himself against the cushions…

 …He’d have kissed her. Definitely. He’d be firm, lick into her mouth for a proper taste. Perhaps he’ll slide a hand down her dress, feel the swell of her boobs, maybe just brush his thumb over her nipple, feel it go hard for him. Fuck, she’ll probably make that little noise again, gasp into his mouth, press that luscious body against his.

He’s not so feeling so tired now, he’s got a hand on his crotch, rubbing though the thin suit pants, rock hard already, just focusing on his gorgeous cleaning girl.

He’ll run his hand up her thigh, slide a hand into her underwear, she’ll be dripping wet for him, desperate to be fingered, he’ll do it hard, make her come on his hand.

His hand has slipped down the front of the pants now and he grips himself properly and starts to move faster.

Maybe she’ll get on her knees for him, take him in her mouth, slide her tongue against him.

Yeah, that’s good, that feels so good.

He’ll tell her what a good girl she is. Tell her to swallow what he’s gonna give her.

Fuck, he’s close now.

She’ll look up at him, mouth full, with those big, gorgeous eyes and her tits spilling out of the top of that little black dress…

So, so close.

He’ll grip her pony tail with one hand and pull out of her mouth in time to jerk himself all over her pretty face…

‘Fuck!” He comes, breathless, releasing in his pants, slippery hand slowing but not stopping as he gasps out the end of his climax.

Oh God. He’s a terrible person.

*****************************************************************************************

You get the usual number of guys checking you both out; two foreign-looking girls in a locals-only wine bar are always going to draw attention, but Lucy is an old school friend of the owner’s son, so you never have a problem getting in.

Citrus has been here for years and the faded orange-and-lemon décor has seen better days, but the drinks are cheaper than some places and it’s safe and familiar, cosy even.

You’re set up camp at a slightly sticky wooden table near the back of the room, out of the way of the dance floor and the hustle and busy-ness of the bar area, but despite this there are still a few guys who wander over to ask if you’re dancing.

You’re not, even though some of them are objectively worth a second look

No, the problem is that you compare every young handsome guy who comes over, to one Min Yoongi.

And every one of them you find lacking.

None of them match his poise, his aura, his sexy smirk or the, the glitteryness of his eyes.  Some are taller, more built, but no-one sparks your interest.

He’s ruined you for every other guy in here, dammit.

They all seem…less than, somehow.

Unfortunately, Lucy’s sharp green eyes miss nothing. “Who is he, then?” she prompts, twirling the straw in her frozen margarita.

There’s no point in feigning ignorance; she’ll worm it out of you eventually.

You sigh, fortifying yourself with a gulp of your whisky sour.

“Long story.” You raise a brow meaningfully and she grins and settles back against the hideous black and green cushions, waving a hand to encourage you to continue.

And then, because she’s your best friend, you tell her about your crush, Min Yoongi, and suddenly, as you speak the words, it all becomes real.

Somehow you go from admiring him as a concept to wondering if it’s possible.

Whether he’s actually interested in you, or merely the idea of you.

Lucy looks up the company on her phone and finds a picture of him. “Cute,” she remarks.

You try to explain that he’s waaay hotter than that picture and she gives you a look and then takes your hand. “Tread carefully, babe, yeah?” she smiles.

You bite your lip and look down. She’d had to pick up a lot of pieces last time around, so you laugh and then shake your head to clear it.

It’s a good catch up with Lucy, though. She tells you about her new professor who spits when he talks, meaning that there’s always a fight to sit at the back of the class and how no-one dares to be late.

You both laugh a lot and it feels good. Healthy.

You tell her about ‘Sleek Satisfaction’ and she shrieks in delight as you tell her about the products everywhere, “Get me a sample, yeah?” she grins.

You squeeze her hand.  “That guy at the bar you talked to, Luce, with the blue contacts... Tay, is it? He's right up your alley!”

She looks up and you watch as she makes eye contact with the guy, smirking at him. She turns back to you. “He’s hot but it’s girls’ night. Come on, lets get out of here!”

You round off the night with a bottle of wine and TV variety shows with your best friend, and you feel grateful.

***********************************************************************************************************

You wake with a start at the alarm and pick up your phone to turn it off, checking the time and then noting the date.

18^th February.

Shit.

So wrapped up in your own stuff that you’d forgotten it was coming.

It’s your mother’s anniversary.

The mum you never really knew, your dad’s first love. You try not to think too hard about it most of the time; the emotions are too confusing. You don’t remember her, not really.

How is it possible for someone you never even knew to leave a hole in your heart? And where does that leave your Eomma, who you love with all your heart?

Sometimes your dad talks about the things you’d done as a little family. ‘Remember when we took you to London to see Aunty Pat?’

You’d nod and smile, but you don’t remember because you were only two, and a year later your dad had become a widower suddenly, thanks to a stupid incident with a careless driver changing a CD and mounting the pavement.

‘Car vs pedestrian’. The report had said.

Your mother had lost in that fight.

You’d have to phone your dad later, but in the meantime, you’d do what you always did: Get out of bed and get on with it.

Classes pass in a bit of a blur. It’s an easy day, thank God, requiring you simply to listen and take notes and you’re grateful that you don’t have to interact too much.

Lucy calls, bless her, and then you have time to grab dinner and talk to your dad, before changing and heading to work. 

He’s doing okay, he thanks you for calling and tells you how proud your Mum would be. There’s a little tremor in his voice and he clears his throat several times.

It’s his grief which is worse to handle, you think; its still there, despite all these years and his devotion to your Eomma.

You debate whether or not to go into Mr Min’s office; it’s his day to have the bins emptied, but you did it yesterday and you’re not in the mood to be perky today.

But you want to see him.

Need the comfort of seeing his dark eyes twinkle at you as you ramble away talking rubbish.

He’s on the phone when you get there and raises his eyebrows in greeting as you bow.

You sigh as you lift a box on the table to dust. It’s a beautifully packaged set of anal beads in a pretty light blue colour.

What would your mother have thought of this job? Would she have been horrified or amused?

You never knew her well enough to be able to judge.

You leave the desk and turn to sort out the rubbish. It’s quiet in the room now, Mr Min has finished his conversation and speaks just as you look over to him.

“Are you alright?” He’s frowning and to your horror, you realise that a stray tear is tracking its way down your cheek.

You glance at him and swipe at your cheek. “Oh…I’m…I’m sorry”

He sits up straighter. “Is Mrs Choi giving you a hard time? Because I can…”

You shake your head and clear your throat. “No, nothing like that…I’m…It’s a tough  day for me, uh, my Mum’s anniversary. She, uh, she died when I was three …” You trail off pathetically, too embarrassed to look up and see his face.

He gets up and moves the three steps required to get to you, puts his hand on your arm.

“I’m so sorry’”

You do look up then; his face is full of concern.

You shrug. “Well, it’s uh, a long time ago, but y’know...”

He shakes his head. “Time doesn’t heal everything and grief doesn’t follow rules. You should remember her today.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and wave a hand around the office. “I was just thinking about what she’d make of all this; of me working here.”

Min tips his head to regard you. It’s a quirk of his that’s starting to become familiar.

“Well, I can’t answer that, but I bet she’d be proud of who you are.” His hand continues to rub your arm in an almost unconscious expression of sympathy, support.

“You think?”

Your dad had said the same thing.

“I do.” His eyes are soft, flicking between your own. “You’re bright and fun, you’re the most positive person I know. You work hard and you’re clever. And you lift people around you, not everyone can do that, you know.

"I think she’d be very proud, err..anyone would.”

You’re watching his face now. He’s a little pink and he drops his hand from your arm, clearing his throat.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

He nods and his pnone buzzes. He scrambles for it and lifts it to his ear, eyes still on you.

“Yep, Min Yoongi speaking…Oh right. Yep. On my way!”

*****************************************************************************************

Once you’re home you replay the conversation in his office. He’d been so calm, so caring. You wish you’d had more time with him.

You shuck off your shoes and jacket and wander into your bedroom to find your pyjamas.

You sigh. He was lovely to you, but it’s not helping with your obsession over him. You think about him far too much for a work contact. Wonder what he’s doing, if he’s thinking of you too.

Maybe you should have asked him to keep you company.  Perhaps he’d have agreed, taken you home with him?

You change your clothes and flop onto your bed.

Maybe he’d have taken you in his arms and kissed you?

You lay your head against the headrest.

He might have pushed you onto the bed, helped you off with your clothes…

You feel yourself warm and sit up to open your bedside table drawer. Reaching in you grab the new toy. You haven’t mentioned it since Min Yoongi had left it for you; it seems impossible to provide feedback for such a gift, so you’d both pretended it hadn’t happened.

But now, as you flick the switch and hear it buzz into life, it’s him that you’re thinking of.

You settle back.

He’s pushing you down onto his sofa, thank God he’s locked the office door!

‘I think you’re all talk’ he says.

No, growls, he definitely growls that bit.

‘Be a good girl for me and let me and take these jeans off!’

You tug off your own jeans and underwear, leaving the dildo buzzing next to you.

‘Good girl’ he growls again.

Yeah, that’s better. God, that’s perfect.

You hadn’t realised that kind of talk is something you like until now. Shin Woo had preferred to call you more derogatory names; put-downs rather than praise.

He reaches under your hoody into your lacy red balcony bra, pulling your breast out of the cup and then moving onto the other.

Good idea. You put the dildo between your knees and do the same thing, albeit with your white cotton number and you feel your nipples tighten as they brush against the hoody that you’re still wearing.

‘Show me,’ he orders. He sits back as he watches you pull the top over your head and reveal your chest to him.

‘Fuckin’ perfect’ he smirks. You’ve never heard him swear, but you’re absolutely sure that in this situation he would.

You’re lost in your imaginings now, one hand moving the vibrator against your increasingly wet folds, and the other pinching and rolling your nipple. It feels amazing and you haven’t even put it inside yet.

His fingers are moving against you and everything’s happening very quickly now.

 ‘Be a good girl and come for me. Now’ he rasps.

You move the little device in just the right way and you come, hard, far too fast, feeling everything tighten and release as you cry out softly. You lie for a moment, lost in the haze, dimly aware of the buzzing of the toy, held limply in your hand and you imagine his deep, throaty voice again.

‘Good girl.’

****************************************************************************************

The next evening around ten, you stick your head into his office. “Anything you need cleaning, Sir?”

He looks up and huffs a laugh, eyes wide. “What exactly are you suggesting, Miss?”

You laugh with him. “Hey, I do the rude jokes here, Sir!” You pull the liner out of the rubbish bin and replace it with a new one.

Yoongi grins and stands up, stretching, then looks you up and down. “How’re you doing today?”

You straighten, then grimace, embarrassed; he’s referencing your wobble the other day.

“I’m fine. Better, thank you. Thanks for listening, I hope I wasn’t too much bother.”

 “Of course not.” He smirks at you. “It’s the least I could do for my favourite cleaner!”

You feel your face heat. “I’m your only cleaner!” you smile. “And I’m done! Heading home.”

Yoongi steps around the desk and stretches, looking you over as you pick up the bin bags. “You off already? Am I the last office?”

You nod, “Yeah. I finished quicker than usual tonight.” Your face heats instantly as you think about the previous night.

How quickly you’d come.

He smirks, eyes raking over you. “Quicker than usual, huh? Can I use that quote as a testimonial?” Dear God, it’s almost as if he knows.

You giggle, nervously to cover your embarrassment. He’s being flirtier today, but you rally. “And send it to marketing? Or did you mean a personal testimonial?”

He takes a step closer. “Marketing obviously.” Your heart sinks, but he’s still talking. “I’d never want to get a personal testimonial like that.”

He smiles, but his eyes are dark and glittering.

“I’d want you to take your time.”

A shiver runs through your entire body.

You’re fairly sure he’s not talking about office upkeep.

You flush and take the plunge, licking your lips as you look up at him. “Well, if things are worth doing, they’re worth doing properly, right?”

He raises an eyebrow then smirks and takes a step nearer. He’s very close now, looking down at you, eyes dark and intense. You lick your lips again and see his gaze travel to your mouth and back to your eyes.

You’re holding your breath, but he doesn’t move. “Y’know, If you’re wanting something to happen here, you’re going to have to make it pretty clear.” His cheeks are a little pink, but his voice is deep, rough, gravelly. “I don’t want to…”

He stops then, because you’ve reached up to kiss him, just barely taking his top lip between yours, pulling back, then pressing your mouth back against his. He responds immediately with a little grunt, reaching a hand to the back of your head, stroking it over your hair as his tongue dips into your mouth.

You make a little noise in the back of your throat, partly relief that you’ve read this right, a wordless ‘Oh, thank God!’ and you reach up to lay your hand against the smoothness of his cheek. He pulls back to look at you, eyes dark, utterly focused on you.

“I’ve wanted this” he confesses. “Wanted you, so fucking much.”

You can only stare up at him as he rubs a thumb over your bottom lip. God, you really, really like him.

He kisses you again, more thoroughly this time, tongue sliding against yours, body pushing yours back against the wall as you slip your hand up into his soft hair; when you separate again you’re both breathing hard.

You’re leaning in to pick up where you left off, when there’s the sound of a door slamming loudly down the hall and voices heading this way. Oh dear God, you cannot be caught at work snogging in an office.

You panic and try to jump back, but the wall is right behind you, so you give him a little shove, looking around for the bin bags you’ve abandoned and picking them up. You head for the door, almost barrelling into the two men who are on their way in. You keep your head ducked down, so you don’t see if they stare at you, but you hear them as you go.

“Whoaa, who the fuck was that, Yoongi? You holding out on us?” and you hear, faintly, his bored, monotone response.

“No-one. Just the cleaning girl.”

*****************************************************************************************

You’re still thinking about the kiss when you get off the bus and turn the corner on the way to your apartment block. The softness of his mouth on yours, his whispered words; ‘I’ve wanted this…’ And then his dismissal of you as ‘just the cleaning girl’.

Was he covering for you with his colleagues? Or is that what he really thinks of you?

You’re so preoccupied you don’t notice the wet plastic bag on the ground under your foot and it’s not until the whole world tilts that you realise what’s happening. Your feet fly out from under you and you go down with a bang, somehow hitting the ground with your arms stretched out, your side taking the impact.

You lay there for a moment, watching the little flecks of drizzle fall towards you as they’re caught in the streetlight, whilst you try to catch your breath. It’s not until you try to push yourself up that the pain shoots up your ribcage and you cry out.

You sit on the damp tarmac, feeling the coldness seep into your jeans and cradling your ribs. Think. There’s no point calling your Dad, he’s an hour away and your best friend Lucy will be in bed.

Everyone will be in bed.

With a sigh, you ease yourself up, turn around and hobble back to the bus stop.

Chapter Text

It's two stops to the hospital but you’re seen quite quickly and x-rayed soon after.

Nothing’s broken, but your ribs are bruised and you’re told that you need to rest them for a few days. The very serious doctor sends you off with a packet of anti-inflammatories at midnight and so you treat yourself to a taxi home.

Then you take the tablets and crash into bed.

You wake ten hours later, aching under the strapping, but otherwise feeling brighter. You can’t work, so you email your lecturers, explain to your tutor why you won’t be at labs and then message Mrs Choi to tell her you’ll be off for a week. 

You think about Min Yoongi.

Will he miss you when you don’t show up tonight? You can hardly ask Mrs Choi to pass on a message to a random product designer whose office you happen to clean.

It’s all too hard to think about. The medicine is great at easing the throb in your side, but it does make you kind of fuzzy.

You’ll think about it tomorrow. For now, you’ll heat up some leftovers and head back to bed.

*****************************************************************************************

Yoongi sighs again. It’s after 10pm now and she hasn’t shown.

Some gangly teenager appeared at nine-ish and asked if he’d needed the office vacuumed, but that was it.

“Where’s the usual cleaner?” Yoongi had asked, (quite casually, he thought.)

“Dunno,” came the answer. “I just do sick leave.” The spotty youth had wandered on, unconcerned.

Sick leave? So, she’d called in sick.

The day after he had her up against the wall in his office. Fuck. What did that mean? She’d regretted it? She’d been upset? Maybe she was actually just sick.

Fuck. Was it serious?

It suddenly occurs to Yoongi that he’s been deliberately building a relationship with this girl, fantasised over her, has made out with her in his office and yet he has no contact details for her and doesn’t know her full name.

And she still calls him ‘Sir.’

He’s an asshole.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

He hopes to God she’ll turn up the next night.

She doesn’t.

*****************************************************************************************

On the third day in your tiny apartment, you’re still stewing about Min Yoongi.

You’re thinking about the kiss, of course, but also about how he’d told his colleagues that you were ‘just the cleaning girl’.

You’re obsessing about this, you know you are, but you can’t get the words out of your head.

He wants, you, sure – he’d told you that, and the kissing was amazing. So it’s probably just a sex thing; a convenient fling with the fun cleaning girl, who makes rude jokes and probably goes like a train. 

Just a question of scratching the itch for him.

Chin Hae had showed you what that was like; how it felt to hand over your heart on a silver platter only to have it rejected.

You’ll never forget the look of surprise and amusement on his face when you’d presented him with his 100 days’ gift.

He’d laughed. “That’s so cute! You’re hilarious!”

You’d tried your best to cover your shock and hurt and faked a smile. “What? Don’t you think we should celebrate these things?”

He’d laughed harder. “Well we would if it was a real relationship, I guess. I love the way you’ve made it like it’s real! You’re so funny!”

He’d flicked your forehead in a friendly way.

“We have fun together, sure, but we both know what’s what, right? It’s not like any guy round here is ever gonna take you home to meet his Mother!”

Those words have haunted you ever since. Affected every potential relationship.

There’s the truth of it.

Men like Min Yoongi aren’t going to take you seriously, you know that, learned it the hard way, it’s just a perfect storm of curiosity and lust.

That’s what it is.

God, you’re so stupid, nearly gave your heart away again to someone who didn’t want it. Of course he wouldn’t want more with you; he’s polished, classy, a businessman and you’re a scruffy student with a cleaning job.

Well, from now on you’re going to wise up. You’re not going to fall for pretty eyes and a sharp suit. You’ll follow the cleaning schedule and keep your innuendoes to yourself.

Thank God for this time to process, to make sure you don’t rush headlong into heartbreak again.

Don’t jump into someone’s bed unless you’re sure of the rules.

You’d love to jump into Min Yoongi’s bed, but the problem is you like him too much for it to be purely a physical thing.

You’re in too deep already.

‘I want you. I’ve wanted you. No one. Just the cleaning girl.’

You don’t want Min Yoongi’s heart anyway.

You don’t.

*****************************************************************************************

It’s been three days and Yoongi is going crazy. He can’t sleep, he can’t focus on work, he keeps picturing her wide eyes after he’d kissed her and the softness of her hair and the taste of her mouth.

He’s tied himself in knots wondering whether she’s sick, avoiding him, or is currently in legal talks about having him fired.

He’s replayed everything he can remember about those short minutes. Trying to remember what he’d said. ‘I’d want you to take your time’. Springs to mind. Creep. What was he thinking?

His stomach churns in mortification.

And then there was the excruciating moment when he’d blurted out how much he wanted her. Smooth, Yoongi, very smooth. Romantic. Telling a girl that you want her body. No wonder she’s avoiding him. If that’s what she’s doing.

Is that what she’s doing?

Or is she really sick?

At somewhere around 11 am, he’d decides that he has to talk to her, to find out either way. He arrives at work around lunchtime, and immediately picks up the phone to call Mrs Choi.

He’d spent half the night trying to come up with a plausible reason for needing a cleaner’s phone number and he figures his excuse is pretty good.

“Ah, Mrs Choi, it’s Min Yoongi from design on floor 4. Yes, Hello. Uh, I’m trying to reach a cleaner who you employ, she’s a student, I understand, she applied for the internship, but we’ve misplaced her contact details..”

He waits for a second, aware that he’s actually holding his breath. Mrs Choi returns to the phone. And he listens, pen scribbling furiously. “Yes, yes, that sounds right. I don’t know if she’s talked to them, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Okay, and the number? Perfect, Mrs Choi, I knew I could count on you!”

He hangs up, triumphant. He’s done it!

His mood has soured an hour later when his message remains unanswered. He’d kept it simple.

‘Hey, Min Yoongi here, just checking to see how you’re doing, heard you were sick.’

There’s no answer, nothing. What does that mean?

He considers Mrs Choi’s words on the phone when he mentioned the internship.

“Will her parents be alright with it, Mr Min?”

She’s got a point. What young woman would want to tell her parents about the company?

Come to think of it, what young woman would want to bring home a sex toy designer? That’s going to be an awkward dinner conversation.

Is that part of the problem? Well, that’s something he can fix.

Yoongi recalls a recent conversation with a contact at one of the silicone companies he liaises with.

There’s a position going at one of the larger homeware businesses; he’d brushed it off at the time, too lazy to think about moving jobs, but actually….

Yeah, that’s what he needs.

God, yes, he needs a new job.

***********************************************************************************************************

There’s still no response to his message.

Yoongi wanders around his office, looks out of the window, makes a coffee.

Nothing.

He checks the closing date for applications at the homeware company (tomorrow, yikes!) fills in an application, attaches his CV and messages his mate at Silicon Solutions about giving him a reference.

Still nothing.

He frowns through a tedious meeting about sales figures, scowls at everyone, drinks another coffee, eats five of the complimentary kimbap and goes back to his office to slump on the sofa.

He must have dozed off, because the harsh ding of his phone startles him an hour later.

It’s a message.

‘Thank you for your concern, Mr Min ust a little accident. Fell down and bruised m ribs but just restingg it.’

Okay.

Okay, so she doesn’t sound mad. Or upset. Formal though. No jokiness there – perhaps she’s feeling too unwell.

He needs to actually speak to her, maybe ask her out on a proper date like normal people do, rather than grabbing her in his office and shoving her against a wall.

He tries again. ‘Wanted to talk to you, Can I call?’

He waits, knee bouncing, staring at the phone. It buzzes, making him jump.

‘No need. Back nxt week. All OK, Sir’

Shit. What does that mean? She’s giving him the cold shoulder.

Panicking a little, he hits the little green phone icon and waits.

She doesn’t answer.

*****************************************************************************************

You ignore your phone, buzzing on the glass coffee table and paint the first coat on the tiny nail of your little toe. First coats are always hardest, you think. The second coat is always a bit of a slap-it-on-top-and-hope-for-the-best job, but this polish is dark so you’re concentrating hard. You underestimated how hard it would be on your ribs to bend like this.

You should have talked to Min Yoongi. You know that, you were stupid enough to instigate a kiss, now he wants to tell you that it was a mistake; probably shitting himself over whether he’s going to be in trouble at work.

You should have let him talk, agreed, and then asked Mrs Choi to change your schedule.

You can’t talk to Lucy; she’ll be full of loving warnings about getting your heart broken and she’ll be right.

No point talking to her when you know you’ll agree with everything she’ll say.

The problem is, he interests you. If you’d met him at a bar you might have been fine with taking him home, getting it out of your system, keeping it light and no-strings.

But you’ve started to develop a relationship with him; that was the big mistake. You like to think you can separate sex and love, but in practice, you’re not so sure. Not with him. It’d be better if he hadn’t been so kind, such a good listener.

No, you’ll just have to put your big-girl pants on and have a sensible adult conversation with him. That’s what you’ll do. Easy.

You’ll go in on Monday as usual with a mature attitude and explain that you’ve made a mistake. Then you’ll arrange to clean the fourth floor and you’ll never need to see him again.

Sorted.

*****************************************************************************************

You wake before the alarm on Monday morning feeling fine, rested, though It’s entirely possible that this was the shortest weekend in history.

Your ribs are better this morning though. Still sore, but you feel like your muscles are finally allowing you to breathe all the way in, which is good. A quick check in the mirror shows that the bruising is really coming out now though; shades of mauve starting to deepen amidst the red.

You’re pleased in a way, that the outer reflects the pain of the inner. Like a battle scar; It’d be worse somehow if there was nothing to show for it. Your parents had come over with food on Saturday and had gasped in a very satisfactory way at the colour of your side, but it’s even better now.

Classes pass by in a blur; you haven’t missed too much thank God, but the time of your last lecture has changed and you’ll need to go straight to work, no time to get home. Now you’re sore, nervous and keyed up.

Dinner is convenience store ramyen and then you try to mentally prepare yourself for the conversation with your would-be lover. You do some breathing exercises on the bus to work which helps and step through the revolving doors of the building, nodding at Mr Joh, the doorman and scanning your card.

You stick your head around Mrs Choi’s office door and assure her that you’ll manage fine. Her face is usually set in a scowl so it’s incredibly gratifying to see her reaction when you show her your bruises.

“Go home, Go!” she flaps at you. You need rest! Go and rest!”

You laugh, “I’m Okay, Mrs Choi, I’ll go slow, I’ll be fine.”

She mumbles something and waves a hand to dismiss you and you smile, turning to leave.

“Congratulations on the internship.” She calls after you.

Internship? What’s she talking about? You turn back.

“Mr Min from that company called for your number. I hope your parents are happy with you working there. Maybe it’s different for you?”

You linger for a moment in the doorway, trying to make sense of it all and as you do, inexplicably you hear him.

“You’re okay?” His voice startles you out of your thoughts and you look around to see him in the corridor. He’s dressed down this evening in an open necked black shirt and dark jeans. There's a fine silver chain around his neck, glinting against his pale skin.

He looks delicious.

He looks you up and down as if trying to assess your injuries himself.

“Uh, yeah, I’m…I’m fine.”

“Are you done here, Mrs Choi? Can I borrow her for a moment?”

Mrs Choi waves her hand again and Yoongi turns. You follow him into an empty conference room across the way.

“You’re really okay?” he asks again. His brow is furrowed, dark eyes radiating concern. He’s still being kind. He can want you and still be kind, of course he can. It’s just that he just doesn’t want a relationship with someone like you.

Just the cleaning girl.

“I’m fine, I tripped, fell, that’s all. It was just a stupid thing. Careless, really.”

He nods, opens his mouth to speak. Closes it again. He starts to speak at the same time as you. “I want to ask you something…”

“I wanted to talk about the other night..” You tail off as he does and he gestures toward you to continue.

Great. If you go first, you won’t have to deal with his proposition. Won’t have the awkwardness of turning down another hookup in his office later.

You clear your throat. “I, err, I think we got a little carried away, you know with the banter.”

He frowns at this, maybe he doesn’t want to take responsibility for his part?

“The truth is, I’m not really up for continuing anything right now. I think it’d be best if we went back to how it was before. Err, if that’s okay?” You can’t risk your heart again, and you’re sure you’re doing the right thing, but you still feel sick and nervous.

Yoongi’s still frowning. “Do I need to apologise? You seemed fine at the time, I, err, thought it was what you wanted?”

“It was…I did, at the time. I thought I did, but now…not so much.” God this is awkward. You can’t meet his eyes so you don’t know what he’s thinking.

There’s silence.

“Right.” His voice is firmer now. “Ah, I understand. Of course. I’ll see you later then”

There it is. It’s fine. He’s not that bothered either, just a potential fling, no biggie.

“Tomorrow actually. I do the lawyers tonight.” You flinch at your own wording. Normally, one of you would jump right onto that double entendre, but today it hangs, unmocked, in the rift between you.

You risk a glance up, but his face is dark, unreadable. You nod once, swallow the lump in your throat and whirl on your heel to leave.

In the doorway, a very pretty young woman in a blue suit is looking between you both. She raises an elegant eyebrow and looks you up and down distainfully.

“Who are you?” she frowns. Her make up is flawless.

You shake your head as you slip past her and fight back the tears as you croak out a response.

“No one. Just the cleaner.”

*****************************************************************************************

Yoongi is floored.

Somehow he’s gone from anticipating a date to being brushed off. Was she playing with him all along or did he scare her off?

Is it his fault or was she only ever flirting?

Did she panic when she realised it had gone too far, or did he push too hard too fast?

He’s got nowhere to go though. She was quite clear; “I’m not really up for continuing anything right now…”

He’ll have to respect her wishes. He feels slightly hollow inside and suddenly realises how much he really likes her.  He wanted her to begin with, yes, but it’s more than that now. He really likes her.

Shit.

He wants her around, wants to laugh with her, find out more about her. He wants her opinions, suspects she’ll have a unique perspective on things.

He really needs to get out of here, this stupid company.  His interview had gone well this morning, he’s hoping for a call soon. If he can’t be with her, at least he won’t be tortured by seeing her every day. And if this new job doesn’t work out, he’ll try again.

A fresh start. That’s what he needs.

****************************************************************************************

It’s the following evening and you’re getting ready for work. Your ribs hurt tonight, the bruising is still coming out and they’re actually purple today which is an exciting new development.

He might not even be there, might be in a meeting.

You flush, recalling your dreams last night. When you’d finally drifted off, they’d been particularly vivid.

“You’re making me late for a meeting, young lady.”

He’s got you up against the wall again, your underwear shoved to the side, he’s moving inside you, your whole form jolting with his thrusts as he holds one of your thighs over his arm, other hand pressed against the wall next to your head. He’s fully dressed, wearing his coffee coloured suit, his pale skin glinting under the harsh fluorescent office light.

You’re topless, skirt pushed up to your waist, breasts bouncing as he builds you towards your climax. He bends his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, making you moan, pushing you over the edge as you feel him fill you. He looks up at you, catching his breath.

“I love you.” He gasps.

“God, I love you so much.”

***********************************************************************************************************

You shake your head, grab your scarf and snatch your keys off the shelf.

Just a stupid dream.

It’s okay, you’re okay, it's all going to be okay.

Like always. You’ve had a mature conversation and agreed to be friends. Not even that; colleagues.

So what if he wanted more from you. So what if he still wants you? He can’t have you.

You just have to clean his office.

 It’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

Yoongi sighs and picks up his phone. He knows what he needs right now. He needs to talk to a friend. The call seems to take forever to connect and then Jungkook’s there, his curious voice sounding reassuring, grounding. “Yeah, come on down!” he agrees, enthusiastic. “I’ll get a drink for you!”

Yoongi grabs his coat and heads for the faded familiarity of Citrus.

“So. Let’s get this straight.’ Jungkook sits back in his chair, arms crossed and looks Yoongi right in the eye. Little shit. Yoongi can still remember when the kid couldn’t talk to him without stuttering.

“You’ve met a girl, you like her, you make out with her in your office, and then she ghosts you, right?”

“Yoongi takes a swig of beer. “Pretty much it, yeah.”

“But she’d seemed into you? Before that?”

“Well, I thought so, yeah. Thought we were heading somewhere.”

“You got her number?”

“Yeah, but she said she just wanted to be friends. But I think something else is going on.”

“Yeah? Like what? An ex?"

Yoongi hums, "No, not that. She's scared, I think. Of getting involved maybe?"

"So, did you tell her how you feel?”

Yoongi shrugs and sips his beer. “Didn’t really get a chance. She just dived straight in with the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ stuff.”

“Well, you could, y’know, tell her you’re confused, ask if she’s okay? Or for now, just be her friend, man. Play it by ear and see if anything changes, you’ll see her at work all the time anyhow yeah?

Yoongi shifts in his seat. “Yeah for a while. Actually I got a new job so I’ll only be there a few weeks more.”

“Right,” Jungkook frowns, thinking, then slaps the table. “So, talk to her, tell her you’re leaving and you won’t see her at work but you wish her all the best. Last ditch. If she’s still keen she’ll say something, if not, take the hint.”

Yoongi thinks for a moment and then sighs. “Yeah. Okay. Good plan. I’ll do that.”

Jungkook looks a bit smug and Yoongi smiles at him and drains his glass. "Right, thanks, Kookie, I'm off. Got a meeting with research."

"You work weird hours. Will she be there tonight?"

Yoongi pulls his jacket off the back of his chair and shrugs into it. "I hope so. Wish me luck!"

***********************************************************************************************************************************************

It'll be fine you remind yourself as you push through the glass doors of the building. Several people are around which is unusual for this time of night and you raise a brow at Mr Joh.

“Party on seven,” the older man shrugs. “I was hoping for a quiet night but they’re celebrating a deal or a merger or something.”

You smile in sympathy and turn to the elevator. Two businessmen are also waiting, carrying plastic bags of what looks like soju; they’ve popped out to get supplies for the party, you realise. Theres a strong smell of cologne as though they’ve tried to freshen up after a long day.

When the lift dings and the doors open, one gestures for you to go first.

“After you!” he announces in English, looking pleased with himself. It’s a regular occurrence for people to speak to you in English, so you flash him a grin. “Why thank you,” you nod, and sweep past him, smiling.

The other one is speaking fast Korean, telling his friend how good his English is and you keep your face blank, pretending you don’t understand; it’s often more fun that way.

They follow you in. “Number?” he asks, again in English.

“Three, please!” You move stand a little in front of you so you can listen to their Korean without them seeing your face.

“You should transfer to translation,” suggests the friend.

There’s a dismissive sound. “God, no. I’d spend all day dealing with rude, ignorant people, no pay cheque in the world’s worth that!”

You allow a smile at this as the lift starts to move. It’s true that the difference in formality is huge. Your Eomma always says that if you want to be disrespectful to her you switch languages. She’s right, it’s so much easier to argue in English.

“I mean, look at her.”

You wait for it. Here we go. You’ve overheard lovely comments in the past, remarks on the colour of your hair or your eyes. People can be nice. They can be critical though, too. What’s this guy got to say about you?

“Fucking beautiful. But I bet she’d open her legs, even for me, they’re like that. Desperate for it.” This is a little too personal. You’re shocked, frozen in place now.

The lift stops too at level two, though there’s no one there. The doors open and close and the man continues to speak.

“No dress sense, no class. Probably takes it in the ass. Girls like her just want to be bent over my desk and hammered from behind.” His friend is laughing as he jabs again at the button for floor three again. You feel a little sick, why is this lift so slow? Why doesn’t he stop talking?

He doesn’t stop.

“I mean. look at that body! Fucking gorgeous when you get her kit off I bet. Love to get my hands on those tits - and I bet she’s gagging for a cock in her mouth!”

They’re both laughing as the doors open and you flee. You’ve no energy to fight today, no desire to see the shock on their faces when you speak, or to hear their mumbled apologies. Not today.

Everything’s too much.

Instead, you race down the hall to the ladies bathroom, crash into a stall and heave the contents of your stomach into the porcelain.

Then you sit on the toilet and sob.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

Ten minutes later after a re-group and a vending macine can of latte, you back into Min Yoongi’s office, dragging the smug little vacuum cleaner which no longer actually rolls, and take a deep breath. With a bit of luck he won’t notice that you’ve been crying in the ladies. You feel kinda grubby, dirty even, but you’re going to get it together, dammit.

You go for cheery, that’ll work. Cheery and Cheeky.

You take a breath. “Evening Mr Min! Got anything you want buffing up?”

Oh, that’s good!

You’re still feeling pleased with yourself when you turn and see him perched on the edge of his desk. He’s staring at you in surprise and next to him, holding a sheaf of papers, is the young woman from the other day, wearing a pink tweed suit.  Her hand is on his arm.

She is also staring, though clearly not amused, looking at you in distain, her perfect brows drawn together over her perfect almond eyes in her perfect heart-shaped fucking face.

She is everything you’re not, ticking every box of Korean beauty standards.

You bow immediately, “Ah, I’m so sorry, Sir, I didn’t realise you were in a meeting.” You flush and bow again. “Ma’am. I’ll come back later.”

The woman stares at you for a second and waves a beautifully manicured hand in dismissal.

You’re mortified, bursting in with a stupid line like that. What must she think? What must he think?

Oh, God, You’re just reinforcing his opinion of you as fuckable trash.

It’s exactly what those guys in the elevator thought just now.

Fuck. Fuck.

You’re spiralling now.

Then you’re moving fast, dragging at the bloody cleaner, which chooses this exact moment to abandon its wheel completely and lurch to the side. You give it another tug out into the corridor, your ribs screaming in protest and pull again to get it to follow you, but only succeed in the pulling the hose out of it.

It fucking smiles at you.

“For fucking fuck’s sake!” you mutter in the safety of the English language. “Fucking Shibal piece of shit!”

Can this day get any worse? When you look up, feeling flushed and breathing heavily, Min Yoongi is there, because of course he is.

“Take a breath,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry.” You feel tears forming. “I’m so sorry.”

He looks confused, tipping his head to look at you. “It’s just a cleaner, its fine.”

“It’s not fine. I.. I came in there all…so unprofessional. God, I’m Just like they said. Exactly what they said I am…” you shake your head and a tear actually escapes, making everything worse.

He puts a tentative hand on your arm to steady you. “Like who said?”

It’s all coming out now, the anger, the frustration. “The men on the elevator just now, they..they talked about me, didn’t expect me to speak Korean, it happens all the time.” You pause to swipe angrily at your eyes. “In the lift, on the trains, at the bus stop.”

His hand moves up and down in a soothing motion, like last time.

Last time.

He must think you’re a total loser.

“I’m sorry” you repeat. You swipe at your eyes. “I should be used to it, y’know? But It..I couldn’t move away this time. They were just discussing me, right there; ‘Girls like her are all sluts, I bet she’d open her legs for me. I bet she wants a cock in her mouth.’”

You shouldn’t be saying these things, but now you’re past caring. You wave a hand, but keep your eyes on the shitty little vacuum. “Personal things. It happens all the time, ‘s’not normally that bad though.”

When you finally look up, he’s staring at you, looking horrified. “This happens all the time?”

You shrug. “I used to wait, then tear them off a strip in Korean, freak them out, but these days I mostly can’t be bothered.” You find the will to pull yourself together and straighten up, clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry. Bad day and everything hurts still. That was the icing on the cake, that’s all. I’m fine.”

You meet his concerned eyes and sigh. “Honestly, I’m fine, really; I’m used to it.”

He eyes your face, expression turning angry. “You said that before. It doesn’t make it okay. You shouldn’t have to get used to it!”

You manage a small smile at his outrage. “Thank you, Sir. I know that’s true in theory.” You take a deep breath and nod in the direction of the office. “You have a very pretty young woman waiting for you.”

He looks back at the office in surprise, as though he’s forgotten she exists. “She’s just from research. Her father owns the company.”

You nod in understanding as you turn to leave -she's a much better option for him. You try to be glad, to be pleased for him. You did the right thing in letting him go, now he can pursue a rich beautiful woman who has her shit togehter. “I’ll get someone to come and move this.” You kick the machine. “Thank you, Sir. For listening. Again. I’ll be off now.”

He shakes his head, eyes soft. “I’ll tell Mrs Choi you came back too soon and I sent you home, okay?”

You nod, unable to speak.

“You still in pain?”

You nod miserably and lift the side of your hoody to show him your bruise. It’s probably inappropriate but its worth it for his expression.

“Fuck! Why are you here? Holy shit, go home!”

You manage a watery smile. He’s still staring at your bruises. “You shouldn’t be alone, is there someone you can call?”

You clear your throat, dropping your top back down. “I might call my Dad, I’m okay. I’m fine.” You’re doing a pretty great job of controlling the wobble of your chin, you think as you start off down the hallway.

“Hey!” He calls after you. Where’s my goodbye one-liner?”

You rub your face and think for a second. “Uhh, I’ll ..go and see if Mr Park wants a bit of a spit and polish?”

He smiles back, gently. “There she is!”

*********************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi’s in a terrible mood. The useless girl from research who couldn’t research her way out of a wet paper bag has ruined everything.

He hasn’t got to talk to you, or told you he’s leaving, hasn’t sorted anything out, instead you’re obviously in pain and there’s nothing he can do to help.

He wants to help you, you who’s usually so bright and upbeat, but who’d looked so lost and defeated, tying so hard to brush it all off, clearly trying not to cry.

He wants to help you, but instead he’s stuck here with his boss’s daughter who’s pretending to know what she’s talking about when its painfully obvious that Daddy’s given her a job so that she can wear nice suits and look important.

Fuck, he hates everyone. People suck. He rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration and the irritatingly chirpy girl pauses in her monologuing.

“Are you alright Mr Min?”

“Headache” he mumbles.

She rubs his arm soothingly.  She’s far too touchy and she stinks of perfume. “Let’s finish this tomorrow then?”

He nods and she gives him a coy smile, click-clacking her red-soled heels out of his office, past the abandoned vacuum cleaner in the hall.

Yoongi looks at his phone and rubs his eyes. Thinks about his cleaning girl and the stupid vacuum cleaner and her tear-stained face. He gets up. Fuck it. He’s going to risk it.

He’s too scared of rejection to risk phoning again, so he heads down to the parking lot, scrolling through his phone to find the address that Mrs Choi gave him.

And then he’s in the car, trying to concentrate on the road and rehearsing his lines like a loser.

******************************************************************************************************************************

You pour the boiled water onto a teabag, watching as the green swirls colour the hot water and the scent of peppermint rises. It’s all so confusing. He’s been so kind, the way he talked to you, looked at you so gently, asked if you were going to be alone. As though it mattered to him. As though you matter.

Maybe you do?

The knocking on the door is loud and sudden. You’re tempted to ignore it, but the knocking comes again, more insistently and you drag yourself over to it and look through the peep hole.  Min Yoongi is on the other side, rubbing the back of his neck and lifting his fist to knock again. You take a breath and unbolt the door, turning the lock and swinging it open.

“Sir?”

He shakes his head, frowning. “Yoongi.”

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, eyes still roaming over your face. “I was worried about you.”

Oh God. Were you really that much of a basket case?

“I’m fine.” You shrug. God, he must think you were really unstable to bother coming all the way over here. He looks kinda cold too, pink tinging his button nose.

“You were really upset earlier, I was worried. I guessed you wouldn't actually call anyone, so thought you might need a friend. Can I come in?”

You open the door open wider, allowing him to walk into your tiny one-room studio. His eyes sweep the room briefly and you're aware of the clutter; coffee table covered in nail polishes, tissues and empty mugs, but its too late now. You pull yourself together, over the shock of his sudden arrival and fold your arms, a little defensively.

“I’m fine really. I've calmed down now, I think everything just got on top of me..." You trail off; there's a joke to be made here 'wouldn't mind you getting on top of me, har har,' but you leave it. When you look at him he's smirking, which makes you grin ruefully too. You sigh and look him up and down. “You are being a good friend though.”

He kicks off his shoes and pulls a face. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

This is news. He's still actually interested in you "You don't?"

He steps closer and shakes his head, eyes fixed on you "Not really, no."

You know what he does want and if you’re honest, right now you're tempted as well, maybe you should just give into to this and take what you want.

You’re going to call him on it, you decide; see where you stand. You meet his gaze, suddenly brave, decisive. "Look, It’s fine, I’m over fighting this thing, I'm not going to say no if that's what you want from me. I'd hoped for more I guess, but I'll take whatever you're offering." There. You said it, if he thinks you're a slut, so be it. You're being honest about your feelings.

He's staring at you, head tipped to listen. He doesn't speak so you forge on. “You want to be more than friends, you want to hookup, but you want to keep your options open, yeah? It's not my usual style but I think I'm okay with it now, I just needed to know we're on the same page..." You trail off at the look on his face.

He opens his mouth then closes it again. Looks down at his feet, then looks at you again.

He looks apalled. “Is that what you think of me? Is that what you think I want?”

You’re off balance now. Yes, of course that’s what you think. You scan his face, confused.

“Isn’t it?”

“No!" his voice raises slightly, eyes flicking between yours. "I care about you.” he says softly.

You can only stare at him as your insides lurch.

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look I’ve done a terrible job of showing you, I know that. I’m shit at this stuff. I should have asked you out, not just jump you at work.” His face crumples and he shakes his head. “I feel terrible about that, I really do respect you. I think about you all the time, I care about you, I..I want to be with you.” He sighs and reaches to take hold of your elbows, gently.

“I don’t want to hook up with you.” He frowns and rubs his neck. “Well, I do, I mean you’re really fucking hot.” He smiles ruefully, pink staining his cheeks as you give a nervous giggle at his discomfort, “But I want more than that, if you do?  And now I’ve scared you off. And I know this isn’t the time for this, you’re having a rough day and…”

Your heart is beating hard as his words filter through, filling you with a warmth you haven’t felt before. You don’t feel nervous or jittery, or like there are butterflies in your belly or anything you thought you were supposed to feel at such a time.

You feel safe.

Yoongi stops rambling when you step into him and put your arms around him and he lets out a sigh at the same time you do, his arms coming up to wrap around you.

It feels like an eternity that you just stand there, swaying against each other, revelling in the intimacy of a simple hug. Eventually, as if on an agreed signal you separate, and he cups your cheek very gently, rubbing a thumb across your cheekbone and looking down at you.

“Can I take you out? Next week maybe? Just dinner? The other stuff can wait. If you want. Or...not...”

He bites his lip; he’s nervous, you realise. “I, er.. I’d really like to get to know you. Properly.”

“I’d love that.” You feel shy all of a sudden.

His face lights up. “Yeah? Oh …great…that’s great news! I.. okay, I’m gonna go.” His smile is huge. “We'll fix a date at work tomorrow, yeah? You..er…you should sleep now, you’ve had a long day."

You feel like you should argue, but the exhaustion is settling on you like a shroud, and so you simply nod as he rubs your back. “Okay,” you mumble.

“Can I just, err, can I kiss you goodnight?” his voice is a whisper, you wonder for a moment if you heard him right.

At your second nod he leans in to brush his lips ever so softly against yours. When he straightens, he’s smiling again, softly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi feels like he’s floating on the way home. He’s only fucking done it! He asked her out and she said yes, possibly the most incredible woman he’s ever encountered! Fuck, it seems impossible after all that’s happened…

He flicks the heat on at the lights and nods at the man crossing the road in front of him, walking a Pomeranian.

If she was just gorgeous that’d be one thing he thinks, as the lights change. But she’s funny too. And sassy, and definitely clever, because she’s a design student, right? At SWU, which is hard to get into.

He frowns, thinking. But its not really any of that either. It’s that she’s real. Genuine. She is who she is and she says what she thinks and she’s not putting on a front or pretending to be something she’s not. He doesn’t have to worry that he’s getting it wrong all the time.

He feels safe with her.

He passes a bunch of young professionals, they look loud, too giggly; drinks after work probably. They’re all young, good -looking, fashionably dressed.

He feels a moment of self-doubt. What does she see in him though? He’s a bit older, maybe that’s it? Though she’s never particularly deferred to him on that count, in fact she’s probably a little too informal in the way she addresses him.  

And when she’d been so down, he’d really wanted to help her, felt so responsible for her. 

At the next lights an older man is clearing the table outside a convenience store, picking up fried chicken boxes and empty beer bottles and Yoongi is reminded of his Father. His parents are visiting next month from Daegu, should he ask her to meet them? Is that a bit soon, maybe?

He sighs. It’s just that she seems like such a, a fixture in his life already, and they haven’t even been on a proper date yet. Fuck… He’s startled out of his thoughts by his phone. He takes the call hands-free as soon as he sees the ID.

“Hey, Tay, how ya doing?”

Taehyung races off at a million miles an hour but it turns out that he wants company at some wine bar on Friday night.

"There’s this girl!”

He’s almost breathless, which is not like Tay; usually he can pick up any girl he likes.

“She’s a foreigner, I think, but she can’t be ‘cause it was at Citrus, but she’s soooo cool!”

Yoongi goes hot and cold. Surely not? Surely not his girl? He tries to keep his voice steady as he answers. “Oh Yeah? What’s she look like?”

“She’s got these huge green eyes and kinda flicky red hair, like a bob and she wears these incredible outfits; gahh, she’s amazing! I went with Jimin the other night! She smiled at me!”

Thank fuck. Not his girl. He sighs. “Okay, brother, I’ll be your wing man, I guess. What time?” Yoongi smiles as the conversation ends. Things are actually coming together.

Its a good day.

Chapter Text

It’s still a good day today, Yoongi thinks.

He’s exchanged a few texts with you, but he knows you’re busy with school so he’s kept it light and friendly. ‘Have a good day,’ he’d said and you’d responded with ‘Lookig forward to seeing yoy l8r x’.  

He’d been wandering to the kitchen to make coffee at the time and had almost skipped at that, grinning at your terrible spelling. Why didn’t you have auto correct? 

Later, heading into work he doesn’t think he’s ever been in a better mood. He’s got the girl, he’s got the job, it’s his birthday soon and he’s got friends to share it all with. He doesn’t think his life has ever been better.

There’s a definite swagger to his gait as he pushes through the swing door to the office building and one of the other designers, a sweet but overenthusiastic lad called Lee is at the elevator as Yoongi arrives.

“Mr Min!” he waves happily in greeting. “Heard a rumour you’re off outta here soon. Going anywhere good?”

Yoongi shrugs. Where he’s going is no concern of Lee’s; the last thing he wants is for this easily- led lad to try and follow him to his new company.

He lies instead.

“Not sure, might be moving home, got family in Daegu. Can only do so long in Seoul, right?”

Lee steps into the elevator in front of him and turns to press the floor button. “Right? I Love this city but I kinda hate it too…” he tails off, a little melancholy, before remembering himself and brightening. “Good luck, though! Oh, hey, would you mind much if I put in for your office when you go?”

Yoongi shrugs, “Knock yourself out, Lee, I’ll flick you a message when I hand in my notice. I’ve got some stuff to finish up first, few things to check off the list. I’ll let you know though. Till then keep it under your hat, yeah?”

He heads up to his office, flops down on his sofa, grabs his tablet and gets down to work. He answers some e-mails and thinks about the date next week with his girl. His girl! Drinks and then a dinner? Fancy lively buzzy restaurant or quiet intimate setting?

He looks at the little toys on the coffee table and smiles to himself remembering that first meeting. She’d been so… so curious and intriguing and funny. He recalls her bright eyes and her smirk and the swing of her hips in those tight black jeans as she left, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

He’d been a gonner even then, probably. God, he’s so lucky. Can’t believe she’d said yes to him, finally. He shuts his eyes for a moment to recall the feeling of his mouth on hers in this very office, how eagerly she’d responded to him, before her wobble, and then his terror that it was all over before it had even started.

Yoongi finishes up some notes and starts some sketches for a new project that’s come in which he probably won’t get to finish. He’s yawning and stretching and thinking about making a drink when he glances up and sees her in the doorway.  She’s holding a vending machine coffee in one hand and her smile seems a little shy. He freezes for a second before a slow smile spreads across his own face.

“About time, Miss. I thought you were never going to come!”

She’s clearly trying to keep a straight face but can’t quite hide the smirk that’s quirking her lip.

“I always come when I’m ready and not before!” she answers, primly.

He laughs at this and watches as she steps into the office, swapping the polystyrene cup from hand to hand.

“Not drinking your coffee?”

She sets it on a side table and shrugs. “It’s too hot actually.” She’s moving towards him and he gets up to greet her.

“Yeah?” He smirks. “You should blow it!”  He hopes he hasn’t overdone it there.

But she laughs out loud at his teasing, eyes dancing and reaches up to put her arms around his neck at the same time that he snakes his own around her waist. It’s new, he thinks, this hugging thing and he’s all for it. Then she’s lifting her head for a kiss, and he flicks his eyes to the door to check the coast is clear before bending his head to meet his lips with hers.

She’s still smiling, he realises; there’s an intimacy to this kiss that’s new as he touches his tongue to hers for a taste. She indulges him for a moment before breaking away and nuzzling into his neck and he feels her sigh against him. “I can’t stop tonight; I have to work as fast as possible so I can get home and finish my project.” 

Yoongi brings his hand up to stroke the back of her hair and moves back a little, kissing her temple. “You’re doing okay though? Feeling better?”

She shrugs. “I’m good. I’ll be even better tomorrow at nine when I hand everything in.”

“Good for you. Hey, look, I know we said next week for a date but I’m not sure I can wait that long…How’s this weekend for you?”

She shakes her head. “Dammit, I can’t, its my little brother’s birthday on Saturday so I’m at home for most of the weekend. I took tomorrow off though, so I could do tomorrow evening? I don’t leave until early Saturday morning…”

“What’s tomorrow, Friday?” Yoongi’s about to agree when he remembers his agreement to go out with Tay. “Arghh, I can’t do that, I’m going for a drink with a mate from school. Looks like we’ll have to be raincheck!” He picks up the toggles of her hoody and tugs them gently, pulling her closer to him.

She smiles. “Well, I’m still at my parents' on Monday, but I’m off on Tuesday too, I took a long weekend. Can you make that work, Sir?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I can make that work.” There’s a glint in his eye as he drops the toggles and steps back, smirking. “If you think you can fit me in?”

She laughs again and Yoongi feels ridiculously proud of himself. She leans in to kiss him softly, lingering against his mouth, he can feel her hand warm against his cheek.

“I’ll fit you in, for sure!” she murmurs, voice husky. She’s smirking herself now as she glances up at him and Yoongi’s starting to regret playing this game. His jeans feel uncomfortably tight all of a sudden.

She takes pity on him and grins. “Pick me up at seven on Tuesday?”

“Seven.” He agrees.

Then she turns, grabs her coffee from the table and with a last smile over her shoulder, she’s gone.

****************************************************************************************

It’s the best feeling in the world when you upload your project for marking. You take a breath, select the hand in work button and watch the happy little sunshine sticker doing a dance to tell you how great you are. It’s done. The weight lifts off your shoulders; you hadn’t realised how much this assignment had been affecting you.

You message Lucy to tell her the good news. She’s at work already, having graduated last year and snapped up a translating job at a global law firm.

Her reply comes almost immediately.

“Well of course you did it, because you’re a genius! Drinks to celebrate?”

You think for a minute. Yes to Friday drinks, definitely.

“Yep, if is not too larte – home 4 the w/e!”

You frown and then add “*late*”

“Lol! Citrus? I’ll pick u up”

“Yay!”

That’s friendship you think, as you potter into the kitchen to make tea. Celebrating the good stuff as well as sharing the hard times. Lucy’s been your friend since you got chatting in a coffee queue whilst still at high school and you’ve had each other’s backs ever since. There’s been a lot of laughs and a lot of tears, and you sometimes wonder if you’d have managed without each other.

With no work tonight you spend the day doing chores. By the time you settle down for a nap you’ve managed two loads of laundry, tidied your chaotic apartment, baked your brother’s favourite brownies (Auntie Pat’s recipe) and wrapped his Captain America action figure.

You luxuriate in a bath with the last of the Christmas bath bombs and by the time Lucy arrives you’re feeling rejuvenated, relaxed and ready to have some fun. You’re keeping it simple tonight with your best black skinny jeans, a favourite floaty top and your hair loose. You feel good.

Lucy casts her eye over the room. “Oh my God, you actually had a table under all that shit!”

You laugh, “What are you, my mother? Well, Yoongi was here the other day, and I was a bit embarrassed when I realised the state it was in.”

“Whoa!” She holds up both hands, her voice raising “Back up a minute! Lover boy was in your apartment, and you failed to tell me? What’s going on?”

You shrug and grin but she’s not going to let this go, waving her hands around and pacing as she rants. “You’re telling me everything! Start talking! Did he stay? Were you safe? Did he bring his work home with him?” She waggles her eyebrows at this last part.

You’re laughing now; it’s not actually possible to get a word in, Lucy’s having too much fun.

You bend down to pull your boots on and grab your purse. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you on the way!”

*******************************************************************************************

Tay’s enjoying himself.

He really hopes the gorgeous girl will show up tonight, but he hates drinking alone so if she doesn’t, then at least he gets to have a night out with his buddy.

They’re a drink down now, perched at the bar as they compare work horror stories and talk about people they used to know at high school.

Tay appreciates the advice he’s given and thinks how nice it’d be if Yoongi could find a partner to bring him out of his shell a bit. Make him enjoy life a little more. He loves spending time with his friend, thinks of him as a big brother, appreciates his wisdom, his gentle guidance, his patience.

He orders another drink and does a quick visual sweep of the dance floor to make sure he hasn’t missed her.

And then there’s a slight stir in the bar as two girls walk in, drawing glances from all over the room. It’s the girl he likes. She’s with her friend again, who’s also very pretty and similarly out of place in this bar.

The friend is looking his way, Taehyung realises, she looks surprised, shocked even, but then her mouth curves into a smile, aimed at someone just behind him. Her eyes light up and then Yoongi is brushing past him, walking right up to the friend. And as Taeyhung watches in disbelief, Yoongi bends slightly to kiss the girl, smiling slightly, and the girl smiles back before snaking her arms around Yoongi’s neck and kissing him back.

They’re in the middle of the dance floor, and now the whole bar is whooping and cat-calling like they’re extras in a rom-com and Tay suddenly realises that one of the extras is him.

And now the other girl, the one he fancies, is walking over, smiling at him and rolling her eyes, good naturedly.

“Sorry about them!” she grins.

Her Korean is flawless.

“Hi! I’m Lucy!”

*****************************************************************************************

It’s a great evening. Tay is positively starry-eyed over Lucy and the four of you are huddled in a booth in the back of the bar. Yoongi tells you about his new job and Lucy decides that champagne is the order of the day.

The barman, Jackson, tells her the price of the champagne and you all decide that bubbly wine is the order of the day instead.

You’re all a bit giggly now and you’re telling the boys hilarious stories about previous nights out, blokes that you’ve turned down and the worst pick up lines that you’ve heard.

Yoongi’s sitting opposite you and you feel his dark eyes on you all the time. It’s intoxicating, the way his attention rests on you; it makes you feel electric, a giddy, breathless warmth that has you excited and nervous at the same time. You realise you’re staring when Lucy’s voice cuts through your daze.

“Hey! Zombie-girl! Quit ogling him, you said you didn’t want a late night!”

You feel your face heat and nod, draining your glass. Tay looks up questioningly. “I’m seeing my family tomorrow, you explain. “It’s not far, but I’m leaving early so…” you pick up your jacket and the others make moves to leave. Tay and Lucy have a short but urgent conversation on the other side of the table while Yoongi drains his whisky then turns to you.

“Can I see you home?” he murmurs, hopefully.

You don’t want him to go, not yet, so you nod quickly, “Yeah. Yes please, that would be great.”

You turn back to Lucy but she and Tay are already standing, hands clasped together.  “We’re staying for a bit,” she smiles. “But you should go! And have a good weekend.” She disengages from Tay to pull you into a tight hug. “And be safe!” she snickers into your ear.

Yoongi’s face is mostly unreadable, save for the pinkness of his cheeks and the dip of his head. He grins at Tay who grins back and then you leave him and Lucy to it.

The night air is still a little brisk, helping you to sober up and you feel pleasantly tipsy, not drunk but relaxed as you fall into step beside Yoongi.

“When we get home, are you coming in?” you blurt out.

He slides his hand into yours and the sudden move surprises you. There’s something very intimate about the slide of his palm against your own skin, but it feels natural too.

“Do you want me to come in?”

There’s no doubt in your mind. You’ve been skating around this for too long.

“Yes, I do.”

“Well alright then, I will.” His hand squeezes yours. “That was very mature of us you know.” He adds.

You turn to look at him. “Mature how?”

“Well, we managed a whole talk about coming in without it getting dirty!”

You snort at this. “Do you want to get dirty?”

He chuckles. “What do you think? Hey, are you walking faster?”

You giggle as he takes exaggerated strides beside you, making you jog a little to keep up. “Fuck’s sake, we must be nearly there!” he complains.

“One more block,” you reassure him, “and you’re supposed to be being a gentleman!”

“I am a gentleman!” he complains. He side-eyes you as you both slow down a bit to conserve energy. “You can even call me Sir again, if you like?”

You scoff, trying not to laugh. “Oh, I bet you’d love that!”

“I would actually. I kinda miss it. Oh, thank God, we’re here! This is the most exercise I’ve done in weeks!”

You’re still giggling as you let him in to your place, reaching down to unzip your boots as he kicks off his shoes. You look at each other awkwardly and then you smile as he steps into you for a hug. His eyes flick over your head. “You tidied up.” He notes. “Thought there’d been a fight when I was here the other day!”

You huff a laugh into his neck. “Don’t you start! I’m untidy, okay? Is that going to be a problem?”

You feel, rather than hear him laugh against you.

“Not a problem if you call me Sir.”

You smirk and lift your head to look at his amused expression. “Well then. I’m sorry I’m such a slob…Sir.”

It’s supposed to be funny, but your eyes connect and something sparks between you. He bends his head and your lips connect, the kiss becoming more urgent as his tongue licks against yours.

You break apart to breathe and he cups your cheek. “Let’s go and get comfortable,” he suggests, nodding towards the sofa.

He sits down, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and throwing on the side table and you slide into the space next to him, your body turned towards him one leg folded under you, and the other sliding over his thigh. He nods as though in approval and leans in again to kiss you as your hand slides up into his shiny hair.

He tastes of whisky and his breath is warm on your skin as he pulls away, panting a little and you catch your own breath, your eyes flicking between his, lost for words.

“Well.” He observes. “This is a great way to shut you up!”

“Yeah? How do I get you to shut up? Like this?”

You slide your leg over both of his, so that you’re on his lap, straddling him, and he gasps suddenly. You look down at him; his eyes are totally focused on you, lips slightly parted and there’s a soft crease in his brow. His skin is still utterly perfect and then he shifts his hips slightly, seating you more fully on him so that you can feel how aroused he is.

He grins up at you, cockily. “Well, you got me where you want me! Watcha gonna do now?”

*****************************************************************************************

You lean down again to kiss him until you’re both a little out of breath again. His hands are snaking up under your top, sliding over your skin and teasing the band of your bra.

You lean back a little, grasping the hem of your top and then pull it over your head, dropping it somewhere behind you. You give Yoongi a moment to admire your lacy bra and then, while you’re still feeling brave you reach behind your back to unfasten it and slide it off your arms with a little flourish.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks and the moment seems to stretch, time pausing until you suddenly feel ashamed, embarrassed. Does he not like what he sees? You’re bringing your hands up to cover yourself when he grasps your wrists suddenly.

“God.” His voice is low. “God you’re so gorgeous. So perfect.” He releases his hands to bring them up to your breasts, stroking and caressing them, his expression almost reverent.

You bend down to kiss him again and his touches become bolder, cupping and squeezing gently, thumbs rubbing over your nipples, making you gasp into his mouth. He bucks his hips up against you properly, and you realise how hard he really is.

 “Fuck.” He swears. “Jeans off! Baby, please!”

You scramble off his lap, heart spiking at the pet name and wriggle out of your stupid too-tight jeans. He’s watching you intently. “And the rest?” he asks, breathlessly.

You slide your underwear down your legs and kick them off, and then you’re climbing back onto his lap as he unzips and gives himself a tug.

“God. There’s so much I wanna do,” he groans. “You’re so pretty, all over!”

He looks down, pulls your thigh more firmly over his hip and runs a finger through your wetness, exploring the soft flesh he finds, playing with you until you’re almost there already.

“God Yoongi,” you grind out, “all so much better than I imagined.”

He laughs breathlessly. “You imagined? Yeah? Me too, we’ll compare notes later.” He grins, bucks up into you again, then leans over to grab his wallet, retrieving a foil packet.

“This okay?”

You nod, watching him roll the latex down his length and then you’re lifting your hips, lining him up and then sinking down onto him slowly as you sigh and he groans. You bottom out and stay still for a long moment, squeezing around him, enjoying the stretch.

“Someone’s gonna have to move here baby!” Yoongi’s voice is strained and his face flushed. He lifts his face up to kiss you and then, finally, you start to move.

It’s good. Your hands are on his shoulders and his are on your waist and your thighs are working hard. It’s not perfect; a couple of times you lift too high and he slips out of you; both of you wincing until you line him back up and sink down again.

You’re aware you need more and reach down to touch yourself, losing rhythm and feeling a burn in your thighs. You’re not entirely sure you’re even going to come. A moment of clarity hits you and you pause, catching your breath. You lift off him and rub at your thigh which is actually hurting now and Yoongi opens his eyes. “You okay?”

You shake your head, feeling a little teary.

He’s going to be disappointed in you.

“I’m sorry Yoongi, I don’t think I can do this.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry Yoongi, I don’t think I can do this.”

He stares at you for a second and shakes his head, “Yeah…no...that’s fine...I’m sorry, I...”

“Maybe if I lie down instead? It’s just, my legs cramping up. I’ve never understood how people do it like this, it’s so fucking uncomfortable, I mean I get you probably like to look at all this…”  You wave a hand in the general direction of your breasts, “…but it’s really tiring and…”

Yoongi’s grinning now. “Shut up! God, I thought you wanted to stop completely! Do you want to stop completely?”

“No, no! I just...I’m just so unfit!” you clamber off his lap in an undignified manner and perch next to him on a cushion, trying not to make a mess on the brown suede of your sofa.

“Jesus, unfit and a slob!” he laughs. He leans over you pushing you gently into a lying position. “I don’t know why I bother!” his voice is low and deep and sends a sudden shiver through you.

“Yeah?” you raise a brow. “Get back in here and you’ll soon remember!”

He grins and leans down to kiss you, shifting so that he’s between your legs. A hand comes up to play with your breast and he bends his head to suck your other nipple into his mouth. He moves his hand down, between your legs now, fingers moving rhythmically, and the pleasure starts to rise again. “This what you want?” he breathes, “Yeah?” His breath is hot on your skin and soon the need in you is spiralling into desperation.

You reach for him and he pushes back inside you, moving his hand to lift your leg up against the back of the sofa.  You watch his face, deep in concentration as he gazes down at you, spread wide for him as he thrusts into you, putting one foot on the floor to help him move.

“God, feels so good,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “Think about this all the time, can’t believe its happening, wanna stay like this forever, feels so good, baby!” You’re both a little frantic now, and you move your own hand down to touch yourself, rubbing desperately as you chase your release together. Yoongi groans suddenly, crying out as he comes jerkily, grinding against you, his hipbones grazing yours. Your release hits you almost as suddenly, making you clench around him, both of you panting hard.

You slump back, head against the arm of the sofa and you catch your breath, feeling his hands stroke up and down your naked sides to your breasts. It seems like an eternity that you lie there together; he lifts his head to look at you and his eyes are soft, lingering on your chest then flicking up to your face. Now that the haze of lust has passed, you feel a little foolish, a little wanton, lying here naked while he’s mostly clothed.  He leans down and kisses you. “Perfect,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

You give him an awkward smile as he sits up, and you grab the tartan throw from the back of the sofa, draping it over your shoulder as he sorts himself out, wandering over to the bin.

“All good?” he asks softly, coming back to pull the throw more securely over your shoulder. He sits back down and puts an arm around you. His bangs are still damp, you notice, sticking slightly to his forehead.

You smile and reach up to brush them off his face. “Yeah, I’m so good. Really good.”

He pulls a face. “That wasn’t supposed to happen until after our date. In a bed, preferably. Sorry.”

“Oh, you had it all planned out?”

“Well, more of a hope than a plan, really.” 

He pulls down the throw a little and leans in, kissing your collar bone, then moves his mouth down to the top of your breast and sucks a mark into your skin, pulling back to admire it. “What’s that for?” you ask, smiling at him.

He shrugs, flicking his tongue over the hickey and looks up to meet your eyes. “Something to remember me by!”

You huff a little laugh. “I’m only going away for the weekend, you make it sound like I’m off to war!”

“Yeah, but I won’t see you for three days, you might forget me!”

You laugh, but there’s a warmth spreading through you at his words. “And there I was thinking you’d be off now you’ve had your wicked way with me!”

Yoongi looks at you more seriously. “I hope you’re joking” he says, “because I plan on staying around for a long time.” He draws a pattern on your chest above the little red bruise. “I don’t know what’s happened to you before, but I think it’s hard for you to trust me?”

A rush of shame flushes through you and he must read something of it on your face because he sighs and bends to kiss you again. “It’s okay.” he mutters.

“I’m trying.” You reach up to stroke the softness of his cheek. “I promise I’ll try.”

“Good. That’s all I ask.”

“Yoongi? I’ll…I’ll tell you the rest on Tuesday. We’ll talk properly then, yes?”

“Yeah, if you’re ready, I’m not pushing.”

You lean back against him smiling and the little carriage clock on your shelf catches your eye. “It’s late,” you sigh.

He follows your gaze. “What time’s your train?”

“Seven.” You shift and wince a little, feeling slightly sore. “Early start, but then I get the whole day there.”

Yoongi moves his arm from around you and stretches. “I should go then. Let you sleep, yeah?”

You want him to stay, but he’s right.  Yoongi stands up and holds his hand out to pull you up into a hug.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m not even packed yet; it’s going to be a horrible rush in the morning." You walk with him to the door. "I’ll see you on Tuesday though? For our date?”

He’s putting his shoes on now and grins up at you. 

“I can’t wait!”  

**********************************************************************************************************************

Across town, Jackson is ringing the bell for last orders and the bar is beginning to empty out. Tay studies the girl opposite him. She’s the same age as him, he thinks. He’s had a bit of a history of dating younger girls, the kind of giggly, over-enthusiastic-but-gorgeous type; egged on by their girlfriends to come and chat him up. This is the first time he’s actually bothered to pursue someone his own age and he’s enjoyed chatting and spending time with her. 

Lucy excuses herself to head to the Ladies' room and Tay watches as she pauses at the bar to chat with Jackson, her smile wide as she jokes with the handsome bartender. He smiles ruefully to himself as he recognises the little jolt of jealousy in his gut. 

She’d seemed genuinely interested in his work as a graphic designer and was impressed by some of his clients. They’d spent quite a while talking about the impact of AI and she’d talked passionately about the legal viewpoint, eyes sparkling and hands waving around as she spoke. How refreshing to talk about adult stuff with a girl, rather than listening to opinions on romcoms or fashion.

He’s going to walk her home, he decides; see her to her door and just say goodnight. Leave her wanting more so she might want to see him again, maybe? Yep, that’s what he’ll do, he’s going to pace himself this time, play the long game. It’s time to grow up.

*****************************************************************************************************************

You have a good weekend, if you don’t mind teenage birthday parties and a general obsession with Marvel characters, and fortunately, you don’t.

You spend most of Saturday cooking for the party with your Eomma and your sister and its comforting and safe being with your family. Your Dad sits at the table and reads you bits of his students’ English essays as he marks them, some parts brilliant, some hilarious, some very much not going to pass. There’s laughter and some scolding from your Eomma who does a lot of tutting and sighing as she rolls gimbap and pretends she isn’t laughing too.

You’re reaching across the bench to wipe it down when your sister grabs your hand. “Uh-oh, what’s this then?” She’s looking very intently at your collar bone which the neck of your T-shirt is failing to hide as you lean over. “It’s a hickey!” Dad! She’s got a hickey, look!”

“Shut up!” you hiss, but the damage is done.

Your Dad pushes his glasses down his nose to look over the top of them. You absolutely know he’s going to love this. “Bloody Hell, lass, was he hungry? Looks like that was a whole meal!”

You roll your eyes, heat flooding your face. “It’s nothing,” you grumble, “just leave it!”

Your sister’s giggling in delight. “Have you got a new guy? Is he a vampire? Ouch!” She ducks too late, as you chuck the wet cloth in her face.

“Are you seeing someone new?” your Eomma asks. She’s paused cooking to look at you, hands on hips, waiting expectantly.

You shrug. “Yeah, kind of. Early days, but yeah, there’s a guy. I like him.” 

“Aww, that’s nice!” Your sister puts her elbows on the counter and sets her chin in her hands. “What’s he like, is he from uni?”

You sigh. They’ll wheedle it out of you one way or another so you might as well give them something. “I met him at work, at my cleaning job. He’s...uh… a designer at one of the companies there. Except he’s just got a new job, so I expect he’ll leave in a few weeks.”

“Ooh, is he rich?” Your sister is nothing if not practical. You snort at this, “not really. Richer than me, but that’s not saying much! We’re going on a date on Tuesday.”

“Well.” Your Dad turns over a page and pushes his glasses back on. “I hope he’s more trustworthy than the last one.” He looks at you meaningfully. “You deserve better than the last one.”

You swallow a lump in your throat and nod, a little stiffly. “Yeah, I know Dad. He is. I really think he is.”

The party passes in a blur of rowdy boys, piles of food and endless clearing up and you fall into bed on Saturday night with just enough energy to flick Yoongi a goodnight text.

He sends you back a kissing emoji and you stare at it for far too long, smiling pathetically at it before you turn your phone off and turn over in your childhood bed, in the room you shared with your sister for so many years.

Mrs Choi calls out of the blue on Sunday morning while you’re taking a walk with your parents in the local park. You grab your phone and perch on a bench to answer it, wondering why on earth she’s calling while you’re on leave. Her voice sounds a long way away.

“Hello, dear, I know you’re off, but I wondered if you could help me out? Everyone’s going sick and I need someone for tomorrow night. And maybe Tuesday?”

You think for a second and shiver, watching the bare branches of the cherry trees whip around. You could get an earlier train tomorrow but there’s no way you’re missing your date with Yoongi. And she’s obviously desperate, she’s never called you dear before.

“I can do tomorrow, but not Tuesday, Mrs Choi. I have an appointment.”

“Ah well, that would help, dear, thank you. I’ll see you then.”

You hang up and smile. If you go into work tomorrow you can surprise Yoongi, see him a day earlier. Maybe he’ll take you home after? Maybe…

The rest of the weekend is full-on but fun. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be with people all the time. Without your own room, there’s no privacy in the little house and no time when you can call Yoongi. You’ve sent him a video of your brother opening his present and he’d responded “Ahh, cute! Having a good time?”

You want to talk to him properly, but you’ll have to deal with four pairs of ears listening in, so you comfort yourself with the knowledge that you’ll see him at work tomorrow instead.

It’s good to be home, but for the first time in ages you’re excited to get back to the city.

******************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi doesn’t normally enjoy Mondays, but he doesn’t think that anything can spoil his mood today.  He knows that he won’t see you tonight but he’s taking you to a fantastic restaurant tomorrow and he’s excited to spend time, proper time with you. He’s not interested in work, doesn’t particularly care about projects that he won’t see through to completion. He looks at his messenger bag which he tossed on the sofa, the resignation letter is tucked snugly inside and he makes a decision. He’ll go and hand it in now.

He checks his watch; his boss, Mr Kim will still be in, he might as well go and get it done.

Mr Kim is disappointed but understanding and the meeting goes as well as Yoongi can expect. They’ll be sorry to see him go, they wish him all the best, He’ll have an excellent reference, and so on. It’s what happens next that he doesn’t expect.

Kim swings back to him and smiles warmly. “Well young man, I’ll call security to escort you out and then you can be on your way!”

“Security?” Yoongi’s confused. “Why do you need security?”

“It’s just routine, you know. Once you hand in your notice, you’re no longer an employee. I’ll need your phone and your tablet and you can collect your personal items from Human Resources tomorrow.”

Yoongi is stunned. “What could I do though? I’m going to a homeware company, I’m not going to steal ideas! What am I gonna do, design erotic bakewear?”

The older man laughs. “Just company policy, Min. You’ll get two weeks and your leave paid out.” He stands and bows and Yoongi also rises and responds.

“Well, Min. All the best then. Ah! Ja Chae, Mr Min is leaving now.”

The big beefy man in the doorway nods and holds his arm out to wave Yoongi toward the door.  Five minutes later, Yoongi’s standing on the pavement outside the building feeling a little dazed. His work phone is gone and his own phone which he rarely uses these days is almost dead and needs charging. Luckily, there’s just enough juice to call Tae.

“Buddy? Yeah, hey. Just left my job. They kicked me out! Wanna get a drink, and I’ll tell you all about it? Yeah, great. Be there in twenty.”

***************************************************************************************************************************

The train pulls in and you check your watch, making some quick calculations. You’ve plenty of time to get home and change before heading into work and by the time you’re on the right floor, heading for Yoongi’s office, you’ve been to your apartment, straightened the throw on your sofa (which had made you blush) eaten some dinner and even put on a bit of (hopefully casual) make up.

You swing through the door with a big smile on your face, despite the butterflies dancing in your belly “Ta-Da!” you announce. “Surprise!”

The young man who turns from the window does indeed look surprised. He’s tall, taller than Yoongi with a crew cut and a slightly shiny pin-stripe suit.

“Oh!” you say, confused. “I’ve got the wrong office!” You look around but everything else is the same as Yoongi’s office. Same sofa, same plant by the window, same table. You look back at the guy. “Err… Is Yoongi in?”

“Yoongi? Min Yoongi? Nah, he’s gone. Are you the cleaner? Your Korean’s amazing!”

“Err…yeah, thanks. He’s gone home already?”

The guy leaves the window and comes to sit on the sofa. On Yoongi’s sofa. “He’s gone for good, left the company.” He smiles and waves an arm around, “He said I could have his office! Guess you’re my cleaner now!”

He must finally see the horror on your face and looks mortified. “Not like that. I mean, you’ll be cleaning and I’ll be in here. I probably won’t though. Just moving my things, that’s why I’m here late. Min worked weird hours, huh?” He seems to realise he’s babbling and stops suddenly, scratching his nose.

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, he’s left the company?” You’re so confused. He’d never said that he was leaving so soon.

“Not just that, left town!” the man announces cheerily. “He’s moved back to his parents place. Daegu, I think. He left today.”

You frown, starting to feel cold, somehow. “Who…who told you this?”

“He did. The other day. I’m just telling you what he told me anyway. Said he had some things to check off his list then he’d be done with Seoul. Can’t blame him really, tempted myself sometimes.” He pulls a face then grins. “Sorry, what was your name?”

There’s a horrible sinking feeling in your gut as you try to understand everything that this man has said. Yoongi has left town? He’s moved back home? This can’t be right. You’ve got a date tomorrow, for fucks sake! You ignore the man in the office and turn back to the door fishing your phone out of your pocket and calling Yoongi.

His phone is turned off.

It’s never turned off.

Why is his phone turned off?

You sit down in the hallway and take a deep breath. What the hell is going on?

****************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi’s having fun. Tay’s called Jungkook and the three of them are at a pub in Gangnam, as Yoongi regales them with a full account of how he was escorted out of his job to prevent him from engaging in corporate spycraft. Jungkook’s eyes are like saucers. “Do people really do that though?” he asks.

Drinks have turned to dinner now, which is just as well as the soju was starting to go to their heads. Now they’re on to some really excellent barbecue and Yoongi and Tay are trying to stop Jungkook from ordering too many side dishes. “Just a couple more though, I’m sooo hungry!”

“So, tell us about the other night!” Tay asks, a little slyly. How’d it go?”

Yoongi scoffs. “Like I’m giving you a blow-by-blow account of my evening!”

“Ooh, blow-by-blow, huh?” snorts Tay, nudging Jungkook who’s chuckling into his glass, “sounds promising!” He takes pity on Yoongi and lets it go. “She still at her parents?”

Yoongi grins at their antics and nods, “Yeah, she’s back late tonight, we’ve got a date tomorrow! I’m taking her to ‘Koi'.”

“Oh, it’s amazing there, I went for my birthday.” Jungkook’s nodding enthusiastically. “The food’s so good!”

“What about you, Tay? You and Lucy get home okay?” It’s Yoongi’s turn to raise his eyebrows suggestively and Tay actually looks a little embarrassed. “I took her home and kissed her goodnight. That’s it!” He leans back in his seat and folds his arms, glaring defiantly at Yoongi from under his bangs. “I’m playing the long game on this one!”

“Wow, you must really like her!” Jungkook is impressed. “Is this a serious thing then?” he folds an entire minute steak into his mouth and looks up expectantly for an answer while chewing.

Tay is a little pink. “I...yeah, maybe. She’s not like anyone I’ve met really.” He stares at his plate for a moment while the other two exchange glances.

Yoongi snickers. “He means that she doesn’t let him get away with anything. He’s not used to it, it’s a novelty!”

Tay shrugs. “Yeah, that might be it!” He shakes his head and picks up his glass. “Here’s to being bossed around by gorgeous women!”

*********************************************************************************************************************

Lucy is not answering her phone. Where is everyone? It’s getting late and you’re at home, too wired to sleep, your mind racing. He’s gone home. To Daegu. Is he on a plane? Is that why his phone’s off?

He’d wanted to check some things off his list. Things to do in Seoul - was that you? One of the things to ‘do’ in Seoul?

You rub at the little hickey on your chest “something to remember me by…” Oh God, is that all it was? You’d said it yourself; ‘Now that you’ve had your wicked way with me…’

Has he actually gone?

Chapter Text

You give yourself a bit of a mental slap.  What was the last thing Yoongi had said to you? That you need to trust him. And what had you said? ‘I’ll try’. And are you trying? No. No, you’re not. At the first sign of trouble you’re assuming the worst. Believing the worst in him.

Get it together, girl!

You get through the rest of the cleaning schedule on auto pilot, glad of the emptiness of the offices and the chance to think. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this and as soon as someone answers their fucking phone, you’ll find out what it is.

In the meantime, YOU WILL TRUST HIM!

He could have been murdered for his office by the too-tall man, Lee – there, that’s an obvious solution. Not ideal of course, but at least he wouldn’t have chosen to leave.

Then again, that guy could just be confused, so desperate for a bigger office that he’d convinced himself that Yoongi was gone. That could be it too. See? Lots of valid reasons.

You dump the last bag of recycling in its assigned bin, pick up your coat and jump as the sudden ringing of your phone startles you. You grab it, almost dropping it in your haste. Unknown number. Shit! Hospital? You swipe the little green phone icon with trembling fingers.

“Hey Baby?” the voice is a little slurred “You’ll never guess what happened! Got kicked outta work, took my phone and everything! You there, Baby?”

You force your throat to move, “I’m here!”

“Sorry! ’s really noisy in here, having dinner with the guys, Luce messaged Tay and said you called. They took my phone though and mine’s flat can you believe it? You having fun?” He sounds pretty tipsy.

“Err, yeah, I’m good, I’m home. I went to see you at work but there was another guy there.”

“Ah shit, Lee? Bastards been after my office! Shit, I’ve only been gone a few hours! Sorry I missed you, see you tomorrow yeah? I’m coming Tay! God! See you baby, I’m staying at Tays.”

“See you tomorrow, Yoongi.” Your voice is a whisper now as you fight to keep your tone even.

“You still there? I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow, Baby!” The call drops out.

You hit the red icon and drop the phone on your lap. Then you put your head in your hands and sob with relief.

Almost immediately your phone rings again and you take a shuddering breath and grab it again; it’s Lucy. She sounds a bit frantic. “Hun, you there? You okay? I’m so sorry, I got all your messages; I was in a movie with my sister! I called Taeyhyung, did you get hold of Yoongi?”

You clear your throat. “He just called, it’s all good. His phone was dead and he wasn’t in his office. That’s why I couldn’t reach him.”

“Oh good, that’s okay then.” She pauses. “Were you worried? You sounded worried.” Damn her for knowing you so well.

You sigh. “I was a bit, but I gave myself a good talking to. I’m trying out this whole trusting-people thing.”

“Good for you!” There’s a pause and then, “why, what did you think was going on?”

You take a breath and relay the whole story; leaving home early, Yoongi not being there, what Lee had said, how confused you’d been.

Lucy sighs loudly “God, you guys are a nightmare. Don’t you have regular conversations like normal people?” She laughs softly. “Honestly, if you looked up ‘miscommunication’ in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of you two!”

You snort at this. “I know. God, I know. I need to tell him about Shin Woo I think. So he knows I’m not a total fruitcake.”

“You do” agrees Lucy. “And do I need to remind you yet again that what that douchebag said is total crap? And that any guy would be lucky to take you home to meet his mom?”

You smirk, in spite of yourself. “No, you don’t need to, I think I’m finally getting it. I’ll tell Yoongi about him.”

When’s your date, tomorrow? Do it then!”

“Yeah, I will. When are you seeing Tay next?"

“Also tomorrow. We’re going for barbecue, keeping it simple and fun. This is my first second-date for a while though, if that makes sense!”

You smile at this. “So, what’s special about this one then? I mean he’s obviously an awesome person or he wouldn’t be Yoongi’s friend! And he’s super-hot, but you’ve dated lots of hot guys. So what is it? You really like him?”

There’s a pause on the line and you give Lucy a moment to think. “I mean, he’s kinda old fashioned in a way. You know he dropped me at home the other night and I invited him in and he just said, ‘another time’ and kissed my cheek.” She gives a short laugh “I dunno, maybe I’m not used to being told ‘no’!"

You laugh too. “Aint that the truth! Smart guy, he left you wanting more!”

“I did want more! But now I’m actually looking forward to spending an evening with him so…Anyway, I’m going to let you go, you feeling better now?”

“I am, yeah! I’m exhausted now though. Gonna go home to bed. Love you Luce. Thanks.”

“Love you, hun.” 

**************************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi is ready. He’s picked out black jeans and a red shirt with a dark jacket and he thinks it all looks pretty good on him. He brushes his teeth, gives up on trying to make his hair behave and wonders when he last went out on a proper date like this.

Getting into the car, he realises that bizarrely, he feels a little nervous. He pulls out of the parking lot and tries to figure out why. He knows this girl, pretty well he thinks. He’s slept with her for God’s sake; it’s not like this is the first time he’s been alone with her.

He wants it to go well, wants to get to know her, understand her better. That’s it, he thinks, that’s what it is - he’s nervous because this really matters. It feels like he’s on the edge of something huge. Something life-changing, as though this date could determine the rest of his life.

Shit.

He’s going to keep it classy he decides while waiting at the traffic lights, he’ll take a leaf out of Tay’s book. Buy her dinner, see her home and kiss her goodnight. Show her that she’s not just a piece of ass, show her how much he likes her just for her.

Yoongi turns into her road and nods firmly to himself, parking outside her block.

Yep, He’s going to be a gentleman.

He nearly changes his mind when she opens the door and he sees her; she looks good. She looks really good. Her hair is all wavy and shiny and she’s wearing a dark bluish dress that somehow covers her up but at the same time shows off all her gorgeous curves. Fuck, maybe he could be a gentleman next time?

Then she smiles at him.

It’s a shy smile, as she brushes her hair behind her ear, and she looks a little nervous too. Yoongi’s stomach flips. The smile is for him, the nerves are because of him too. He doesn’t just want to take her to bed now, he also wants to give her the entire world because she’s almost certainly the most amazing woman who ever lived.

“Wow!” she breathes. “You look great!”

This amazing woman is looking at him as though she’s in awe of him; he realises. On the short drive to the restaurant she keeps stealing glances of him although she’s trying to hide it. He’s so, so lucky.

The waiter at Koi leads them to their table and Yoongi follows behind her, enjoying all of the double takes she receives, all the long glances, the stares.

‘Yeah, you can look’ he thinks ‘but she’s with me.’

****************************************************************************************************************************

You settle at the table, smooth the white linen in front of you and take a breath. It's a beautiful room, decorated in cream and gold, and two huge chandeliers twinkle above you, casting a soft light across the room as classical music plays quietly in the background.  You’re a little jittery for some reason, which doesn’t really make sense, but you’re suddenly desperate for Yoongi to see you, beyond the flirting and the banter and the sex.

You want him to think well of you, to respect you as you respect him. He smiles at you across the table and your heart stutters slightly. He looks gorgeous tonight, put together, poised; all of the things you wish you were.

He smells fantastic.

You order drinks and then look back to him, expectantly, wondering what to say. All ideas of rational conversation topics seem to have abandoned you.

“You’re nervous?” he asks, softly.

You’re tempted to play it cool but decide on the truth, “Yeah, is that silly?” you ask, fiddling with your napkin, “I feel a bit off-balance.”

You look up and meet his eyes.

“I’m nervous too” he confesses, shrugging slightly.

“Really?” you sigh. “You always seem so in-control of things!”

He snorts at this. “Well, you didn’t see me fall over the coffee table in my rush to get out!”

You laugh with him and he reaches across the table to capture your fingers in his. “Let’s enjoy ourselves, yeah? It’s just us and this probably counts as our tenth date or something anyway, so let’s just have some fun, okay?”

You agree, relieved, and spring apart as the waiter brings your cocktails, a whisky sour for Yoongi and a Manhattan for you. You order your food and then Yoongi leans back in his chair, sips his drink and puts it down carefully on its little paper coaster.

“I bring my parents here sometimes when they come to visit,” he tells you. “They really like it.”

“You’re a good son” you smile, making him shrug. “I bet they’re proud of you!”

He winces. “Only ‘cause they don’t know what I really do for a living!”

“You design homeware, don’t you? Or you will soon! Next time they come you can show them your new workplace and they can be properly proud.” You nod firmly, smiling as his dips his head in awkward recognition. Yoongi deserves to make his parents proud, you think.

“They’re coming next month actually.” He looks down at his lap then back at you. “You, uh, you could meet them maybe? Is that, uh, is that too much too soon?”

You manage a little nod and a smile but your heart is hammering in your chest. He wants you to meet his parents!

“I think my Eomma will really like you, that’s all…”

He tails off awkwardly and picks up his drink. There’s a knot of emotion growing in your throat that’s making it hard to breathe. You will the tears to go away and take a breath, studying your own glass as you battle to regain your composure.

Yoongi gives you a strange look. “No pressure” he assures you.

“No, it’s fine” you manage a strained smile, swallowing down the tears, “that’d be nice!”

Yoongi nods, fidgets with his chopstick rest and then leans forward, conspiratorially, frowing at you. “So, new subject. Tell me, what’s that dipstick Lee done to my office?”

You take a breath, grateful for the change of pace and huff a little laugh. “Nothing yet, I don’t think he’s had time!”

Yoongi shakes his head. “He’s always been a bit..dunno, clingy? Bit of a fanboy, but he’s not a bad guy. I told him some rubbish about leaving the country I think, in case he followed me to the new place, but I reckon in the end he was too keen on getting my room!”

Your smile fades a little. “He told me you’d left Seoul and gone back to Daegu.”

Yoongi laughs, “Oh yeah that’s it! That’s what I told him! Sucker.” He catches your expression and his smile fades. “You didn’t believe him, did you?”  He stares at you for a minute. “You didn’t think…?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, I didn’t!” You pause, stirring your drink. “Well, I did, for about thirty seconds.” You reach back across the table for his hand. His head is tilted, watching you, listening intently. You push on. “But then I remembered what you said. At my place, after we…we…” you stutter to a pause.

“What did I say?” his voice is soft.

“You…you said you wanted me to trust you and I said I’d try. So I did. I told myself there had to be a good reason why your phone was off and it wasn’t because you were flying to Daegu.” He winces at this.

“Well, I waited and then you called, and it was okay. Because I trusted you.”

“Good girl.” Yoongi nods approvingly, stroking your fingers.

“And you called me Baby. You were a bit squiffy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t like being called Baby?”

“Umm…I do actually. So I’ll allow it!” you sniff in mock graciousness, waving a hand.

Yoongi smirks, “Well, a moment ago I called you a good girl come to think of it. Pretty sure I could get cancelled for that these days, I know what you kids are like!”

You supress a laugh, “Well, as it happens, I liked that too!” you tell him primly.

“Oh, do you now?” his voice lowers, both in pitch and volume and he leans forward over the table. “Any other names I should try out, Baby?”

You shiver, feeling your face heat. You’re not used to this kind of openness. “I’ll let you know, Sir. I know you like being called that!”

He grins and tips his head in acknowledgment. “Good girl” he grins.

You fight the swirling sensations in your belly, cross your legs and try for a safer subject, clearing your throat. “Anyway, you wanted to know about your office. Lee said he’s very much looking forward to me being his cleaner now, instead of yours!”

Yoongi chokes a little on his drink and looks over to meet your triumphant grin. He recovers quickly. “Oh, really? Little shit. Have you discussed any of his designs?”

“Err, he asked my name?” You’re floundering a bit here.

“Your name? That’s disgusting. What a player.”

You laugh out loud. Bastard. He’s enjoying this. You grin at each other and there’s a pause as your food arrives and you start to eat. Everything is amazing. You spend a little time sharing tastes and discussing flavours and then you carry on talking, warming to your theme.

“Anyway, Lee said ‘I guess you’re my cleaner now,’” you nod, “like a passing of the baton, you know.” You swirl your drink around in the glass and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.” Yoongi waves his chopsticks at you. “He’s very tall though. And Gangly. You might want to invest in a box to stand on or you’ll never reach his baton!”

You giggle at this before attempting an expression of mock outrage instead. “Are you saying I’m short?” you toss your hair over your shoulder and glare. It’s hard to glare whilst smiling. It loses its effect a little.

“Yes, I am. Short ass. But you’re my short ass.” He glances up at you quickly, looking a little worried. “Am I allowed to say that?”

A thrill runs through you. “Yes. You are. And anyway, you trust me.”

“I do.” He pauses and looks at you meaningfully. “You wanna talk to me more about trust yet?”

You sigh. Here you go. “Yeah. I guess.”

Yoongi puts down his glass and folds his hands in front of himself. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know, but I want to,” you take a breath. Here you go. You’re doing it.

“Okay. In my first year at Uni, I met someone. We became a couple very quickly, spent all our time together. He was my first, uhh, my first lover. I was head over heels, this was true love, y’know? I was certain we were going to get married, like, this was it for me."

He nods, listening.

“On our 100 days anniversary I bought him a gift, a pendant, the infinity symbol. I was so excited to give it him, y’know? So I handed over the box and said, ‘This is for our anniversary.” You pause, take a breath.

“He laughed. He said how funny I was, what fun he had with me. How, uh, how sexy and cool I was.” Your face crumples, lost for a moment in the memory. “And then he said ‘You make it sound like this is real. But no Korean guy is ever going to take you home to meet his Eomma’. And then he laughed again.”

You risk a glance up. Yoongi looks horrified. He reaches across the table, but you can’t touch him whilst you’re telling this story. You look down at your plate and carry on, managing to keep your voice steady.

“I believed him. I left him, yeah, but I carried that with me, what he’d said. I believed it completely.” You sigh. “I’ve never really been able to trust anyone else’s motives. Never been able to believe that someone would want more from me than just sex, or to satisfy a curiosity. You’ve seen the way people look at me, even here.” You wave an arm around; you can't look at him.

"I think you're extraordinary," Yoongi tells you softly. "I think about you all the time, bout how I want to be with you. I see little things or read something and think about how you'd enjoy it too. I want more with you, much more, if that's what you want too..."

Your eyes are welling with tears now as you take in his words. “I do. I do want that too! I haven’t trusted anyone else - not until you,” you can’t look at him.

Yoongi takes your hand. “That’s why you reacted like that when I said I wanted you to meet my parents, isn’t it? I thought I’d scared you, but it wasn’t that, was it?”

You raise your eyes to meet his. “It was like you’d broken a spell - God, that sounds ridiculous out loud, but that’s what it felt like. Like I’m finally free.”

He swipes at the stray tear on your cheek and smiles gently at you. It feels as though you’re the only two people in the room. “It’s nothing to do with me” he tells you. “You are free, but not because of me. While I’d love to be your knight in shining armour, It’s you who chose what happened. It was you who made the choice to trust someone, that’s what broke the spell.”

He smiles a little mistily at you and clears his throat. “Baby, you've set yourself free!” 

Chapter Text

Taehyung looks deep in thought when Lucy arrives for their first proper date, fiddling with the straw in his soda and he startles a little when he sees her, rising to greet her properly.

“You look pre-occupied!” she smiles, pulling off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. She tips her head to regard him. “What are you thinking about?”

Taehyung looks back down at the straw. “I was wondering if a straw has one hole or two,” he tells her.

There’s a pause.

Shit! he thinks. He’s done that thing where he says what he’s actually thinking, the thing that makes people look at him funny. She’ll probably make an excuse to leave now. Shit!

But Lucy doesn’t make any excuses, instead she smiles and looks at the straw herself as they both lower themselves into their seats. “That’s a good question!” she laughs. “Is it one hole that goes all the way through, or a hole at each end?” Taehyung blinks at her in surprise.

“Actually, I think we’re asking the wrong questions though,” she continues, frowning. “If the hole goes all the way through, doesn’t that make it a tunnel?” She looks up at him quizzically and shrugs. “…Or not…?”

Taehyung grins then and folds his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Okay, if you’re so smart, answer me this!” He nods over towards the fish tank. “D’you think that fishes can smell things?”

Lucy follows his gaze and grins herself, flicking her sleek bob behind her ear. “Again, not really the question. The real question is ‘What does it smell like underwater?’ Because it’s not something we can ever find out, is it?”

He laughs and Lucy feels pleased with herself; his smile is adorable. She laughs with him and a waitress arrives with a bottle of wine. It’s not a high class establishment; the girl slams it down on the plastic tablecloth with a couple of glasses and rushes off to pick up the next order.

Lucy laughs though, “D’you think I should’ve picked somewhere better? The others are at Koi!”

She might be the most low-maintenance girl he’s ever been on a date with, Taehyung thinks. He shrugs, “I don’t mind, I don’t really need fancy, I just wanted to see you.”

Lucy looks up in surprise to see if he’s being deliberately smooth, but he’s clearly oblivious to what he’s said, he’s just being genuine, she realises.

He pours a glass of wine and waves it at Lucy, browns raised questioningly. She smiles and nods, pushing her glass towards him. “Thank you. I hadn’t pinned you as a wine drinker!”

He shrugs, swirling his own drink around in his glass and watching it intently. “No, I didn’t used to like it. Yoongi got me into it, actually.”

She takes a sip; It’s surprisingly drinkable. “D’you think they’re going to make a go of it?” she wonders aloud.

Taehyung thinks for a moment. “I hope so. Yoongi’s…I think he’s been lonely for a while. And I think he needs someone to see his value. He’s an awesome guy, he really is.”

Lucy’s reassured and smirks up at him, “Well, I mean, they both have great friends!”

Taehyung laughs. “God, yeah, good point.” His gaze wanders back to the fish tank. “You see that sucky fish at the bottom, the one that cleans the glass?”

“Plecostomus” announces Lucy proudly. “My Dad has fish!”

Tay raises his eyebrows and nods, impressed. “Yeah, well,” he continues. “D’you reckon he thinks that the other fish above him are flying?”

*********************************************************************************************************************************

“No, I’m not coming in” declares Yoongi, an hour and a couple of whiskies later. “Even though you’re super-hot."

You raise an eyebrow at this. “Oh, super-hot am I? If I’m so super-hot, then why aren’t you coming in?”

Yoongi frowns at you from under his bangs.

“I’m being gentlemanly,’” he explains.

“Oh!” You nod thoughtfully, “But what if I don’t want you to be gentlemanly?”

Yoongi gazes at the sky for a minute, presumably for inspiration, before looking back at you. “Well, tough. Because that’s who I am. I’m showing you that you’re more than a super-hot body, but also a person with feelings and stuff.”

You laugh out loud at this. “Feelings and stuff? Is that what I have?”

Yoongi rocks a little on his heels. “Yes. You have feelings and you’re clever and funny and inspiring and that’s why I can’t bang you tonight.”

“Oh! Gosh!” You nod in appreciation of this. “What if I’m grateful for your many lovely thoughts about me and say thank you, and ask you very nicely to please...bang me?”

Yoongi shakes his head firmly. “No. You’re too inspiring.” As an after-thought he adds, “and well-rounded.”

“Yes, if you come in, I can remind you how well rounded I am!”

A smile quirks the edge of Yoongi’s lip. He gives into it and grins. “No.” he repeats.

He seems to be resolute in this.

You think for a minute. “I’m wearing my laciest underwear, you know. It’s black…” you frown, trying to think of something more persuasive, though the whisky is making it tricky. “It’s very lacy!”

His eyes flick down your body for a minute, as if expecting to see said underwear. “I’ll be able to look forward to seeing that another time then,” he decides, though his voice is a little hoarse now.

You sigh. “Ah, okay. So there’s no way I can convince you otherwise?”

Yoongi shakes his head again.  “I respect you too much.”

“Right,” you bite your lip. “Is there...uh…is there any way I can get you to respect me less?”

Yoongi is laughing himself now, shoulders shaking. “Goodnight, Baby.”

“Can I at least have a goodnight kiss?”

He leans in and his lips graze yours for the briefest moment. You smile softly as you step back into the doorway.

“Goodnight, Sir!”

*************************************************************************************************************************************

You’ve only just got back from Uni the next afternoon when the door goes.

Shit, you’re wearing a ratty old t shirt and faded jeans.  You’d got as far as discovering that there are no teabags left, and you’ve been ferreting around in the back of the cupboard (where you find a lemon and ginger infusion and a small plastic bag of what looked like weed, but which a cautious sniff reveals to be loose leaf Earl Grey.)

You’d turned your nose up and were just thinking about heading to the convenience store when the buzzer had gone.

Well, whoever it is will just have to take you as they find you if they can’t be bothered to let you know they’re coming.

You swing the door open and Yoongi is grinning on the other side. He’s loaded up with plastic bags and you step back to let him in, amused.

“Hello!” He does a little shoe-kicking off dance whilst holding the bags, which makes you laugh. “Thought I’d bring stuff for dinner! You got plans? We can stick it in the fridge and do it another day if you have?”

“No, that’d be lovely!”

He leans in to kiss you, thinks better of it and goes to dump the stuff on your kitchen counter. You huff and fold your arms. “Well, you’re full of promises and no substance at the moment,” you complain.

He turns, laughing and leans in to give you a proper kiss. He still smells amazing; cologne and something that’s just uniquely him, somehow.

“Is this about last night still?” he grins, “Because I didn’t come up?”

“You didn’t come anywhere!” you grumble.

Yoongi smirks, “That’s what you think” he teases, booping your nose. “My shower saw a lot of action last night, actually!”

You pull a face. “Was this Tay’s ‘being a gentleman’ idea?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe!” he grins. “We’re mature and sensible now, done with meaningless fooling around. I’m a totally new man!”

“Well, I don’t want a new man, I want an old man.” You frown, “…ahh, that’s not quite what I meant…”

Yoongi’s laughing again. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I can put a card up at the community centre, they’ll be lining up...” he doesn’t get to finish because you jab him in the ribs in the exact same way that you’d do to your little brother.

Yoongi’s quicker though, wincing slightly, he grabs your wrists and spins you around, pushing you against the wall. He’s still grinning when he leans down to kiss you again, holding your wrists at your sides as his mouth explores yours.

“Still the best way to shut you up!” he murmurs, when you break apart, a little breathless. You gaze up at him, enjoying the ways his eyes crinkle as he smiles, admiring his still perfect skin, the tiny mole on his cheek.

“Yoongi, I..” you’re interrupted by the door again and the two of you stare at each other for a beat, before you pull away frowning.

“Does no-one make appointments anymore?” you grumble. “That’ll be Lucy coming to spill the tea about Tay.”

“Excellent,” nods Yoongi. “I love a bit of girl-talk!”

You glare at him as you open the door “We’ll be talking about you too and your failure to deliver! If you wine me and dine me, I expect you to sixty-nine me!”

This last is delivered with a grin, as you swing open the door for Lucy. Only it’s not Lucy.

It’s your Dad.

He looks a little startled; you suppose you all do. His gaze flicks from you to Yoongi and back again. Eventually he clears his throat. “Well? Am I gonna stand out here all day?”

Introductions are made and your Dad toes his shoes off and rubs his hands together. “Put the kettle on then, love and make us a cuppa!”

“Actually, Dad, I was just gonna go and get some tea, I’m all out!”

He takes up residence on the sofa and waves a hand. “Ah, go on then, Gives me a chance to interrogate your boyfriend for a bit.”

You grab your bag and pretend not to see Yoongi's frantic head-shaking. “There’s whisky on the shelf if you’re desperate!” You throw a half-amused, half apologetic smile at Yoongi and bolt.

******************************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi sits, nervously. The older man pours two measures of whisky and lifts one in a salute.  Yoongi takes the other and returns the gesture. He steels himself for the cross-examination which is sure to follow.

“So, Yoongi. I hear you’ve recently changed jobs?”

Yup, here it is.

“I have, Sir.  I’ll be working for a manufacturing company who design homewear made from recycled and sustainable materials. It’s challenging, but I think it’ll stretch me a little. I’m excited about it.”

“The blond man nods, “Lot to be said for enjoying your work. What did you do before that?”

Yoongi tenses a little. Traces the rim of his glass with his thumb and sighs. “I’m going to be honest with you Sir, even though your daughter might tell me not to…”

Dave looks concerned. “Go on.”

“I worked for a company called ‘Sleek Satisfaction’. We designed and manufactured sex toys.”

He waits.

Dave nods. “And my daughter doesn’t want me to know this?”

Yoongi nods himself, eyes on his glass.

He’s startled when Dave laughs. “Christ! I thought you were going to tell me you’d been in prison!” He laughs again and lifts his glass to salute Yoongi again. “Bloody Hell, do all kids think their parents have never had sex?”

Yoongi’s smiling now as the tension drains out of him. He shrugs, “Fairly sure mine never have, Sir!”

Dave hoots at this, “Well, I suppose your new job’s easier to tell the neighbours about when they ask about the boyfriend!” He pauses, “though I might have enjoyed seeing their faces!” Then he winks, and Yoongi suddenly sees the family resemblance in the older man’s mischievous expression. Dave looks up at him suddenly. “Why did you tell me when she didn’t want me to know?”

Yoongi shrugs, “I’m…err…serious about her. I’m daring to hope for some kind of a future here and I don’t like dishonesty.”

Dave stares at him for a minute. “I don’t either.” His gaze softens a little as he looks at Yoongi. “She’s been badly done by, you know, in the past. She hasn’t told me everything, but I know enough.”

Yoongi nods and the burly professor continues. “Well. I’m choosing to believe that you’ll do right by her, Yoongi. I like your honesty and I hope we’ll see more of you.”

Yoongi nods. “I don’t want to hurt her, Sir, I just want her to be happy.”

Dave reaches over to pour another measure. “Me too, son. Me too.”

************************************************************************************************************************************

It’s comfy, companionable, the way you move around each other to make a meal once your Dad has left to catch the train.

You peel vegetables while Yoongi slices green onions and you wonder about how the two of you got here. You glance up at him next to you. He’s relaxed in a black hoody and jeans, earrings clinking a little when he turns his head to smile at you, eyes crinkling. He’s so gorgeous. Why wasn’t he dating when you met? How had some hot, mean girl not snapped him up already? Your mind drifts back to the Chanel-suited woman at work. The one who had sneered at your melt-down.

“Was she your girlfriend?” you blurt, suddenly, flushing as you realise you’ve spoken mid-thought.

“What, who?”

You recover a little, scraping away at a carrot. “The girl at ‘Sleek Satisfaction’, the boss’ daughter or whoever?”

Yoongi snorts at this. “No chance. She wanted to be, I think. “She was a bit of an octopus, hands everywhere; it scared the hell out of me!”

The mock horror on his face makes you smile. “Really, why?”

“Dunno.” He scoops up the onions and drops them into a bowl. “Felt like a lose-lose situation. Date the boss’ daughter or scorn the boss’ daughter by turning her down. Lucky escape, I think.”

You nod and carry on peeling.

“There was a girl. A...uh...a girlfriend before that though.”

You still, waiting expectantly, feeling that Yoongi won’t want to rush this conversation.

“Her name was Hwa-Yeon. We were together for a year or so but it didn’t work out. Kind of a relief when she left, to be honest.” He looks down at you and shrugs.

“Because she was mean to you?”

He shakes his head. “Not even that, really. I mean in the end she was pretty harsh, yeah. But, no, she was very ambitious, loved to network with people, enjoyed all the spin and politics of business. I just wanted to, I dunno, just be.

“She..got frustrated with me, I guess, and I resented her wanting me to do stuff all the time. I think we each wanted the other to be something we weren’t and then we limped on in a relationship for too long until we hated each other.”

Yoongi pulls a face, puts his knife down and turns to you.  His eyes soften as they scan your face. “It’s different with you, I feel like I can relax, that there’s no right or wrong answer, there’s just honesty and fun. I love that.” He reaches for your hand, catches hold of your pinky finger and pulls you closer, gently. “I’ve really fallen for you.” He confesses, softly, face flushing pink at his own words.

Your heart is thumping now, “Me too,” you offer, reaching up to brush his bangs to the side, needing any excuse just to touch him. “It’s..I…” You shut your eyes for a second. Fuck it, you’re gonna say it.

You take a deep breath. “I’m.. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” You force yourself not to look down, to be brave.

Yoongi exhales and smiles hugely at you, cupping your face in his hands. “Yeah?” He studies your face. “You know what? I’m pretty sure I love you too,” he mumbles, face flushing again.

Then he’s leaning down to kiss you and you feel the warmth of his breath before his soft mouth meets your own and you feel the soft trace of his tongue on your bottom lip.

The kiss escalates quickly and soon you’re both breathless, your hands sliding under each other’s clothes, making you both gasp.

“Can the dinner wait a bit, d’you think?” you manage to pant out.

“Fuck, yeah! Lets go!”

It’s a giggly race to the bedroom, pulling off tops, and there’s some inelegant tripping over jeans and swearing.

Then you’re on the bed in just your underwear and Yoongi’s staring at you, like he’s never seen a half-naked girl before. He sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers down the strap of your bra. “You're so lovely," he tells you softly. "Nearly killed me, turning you down last night! You sure about this now?” he murmurs.

“Yeah. I’m sure. I mean we already…”

“No.” He interrupts. I know we did but I…I wanna take my time with you.” He looks down, his face twists slightly as though he’s embarrassed. “Last time was a bit of a race to the finish, yeah? But now..I want to show you…how I feel.”

Your heart twists at the depth of feeling in his words and you feel suddenly tearful, grateful, overwhelmed with emotion.

You manage a shaky whisper. “Okay.”

He nods at your aquiescence and crawls over you, pushing you down to lie on the bed. “Aish, hang on, bra off!” he orders, before you can recline against the pillows.

“You’re very bossy!” you mutter, without malice, reaching back to undo the little hooks.

Yoongi smirks at you. “Do you mind?”

You bite your lip, shaking your head and he grins. “Good girl!”

Your giggle turns into a moan as he reaches up to rub a thumb across your newly-exposed nipple, settling himself above you propped on one arm. He runs his free hand down your body, from your breast, over your hip bone to cup you gently between your legs, dark eyes totally focused on what he’s doing.

“Yoongi!” you gasp out, trying to rut up into his hand.

“Just relax!” he murmurs, bending down to kiss you thoroughly, tongue sliding against yours, before pulling back to look at you. “We’ve got all day. Just enjoy the feelings. Yeah?”

You sigh against his lips. “I’ve never done this before.”

He pulls back to study your face, fingers combing your hair back gently. “Pretty sure you have, actually!” he smirks.

“No, I mean. I’ve never…gone slow like this, it’s always been about just…getting off I guess.” You pull a face at the crass statement, but when you sneak a glance at Yoongi he’s nodding.

“Yeah, me too, I think. It’s just…I want more than a quickie, here, I want to…you know…”

You wait and Yoongi sighs. When he speaks, its so soft, so deep, that you almost don’t hear it. “I want to make love with you.”

You smile through your tears. “I want that too” you croak out before helpfully adding, “I’m on the pill, you know,” then, “umm...that’s less romantic, sorry!”

Yoongi chuckles. “Practical though” he observes. “And good to know!” Then he’s touching you; gentle, slow strokes exactly where you want them. He mutters to himself as he watches his fingers moving against you. “Beautiful, look at you, so soft and wet and pretty. God, I love this!”

You arch back against the pillows, reaching down to touch him too, taking him in your hand to move in time with his strokes. Yoongi releases a strangled groan. “Yeah, that’s it, keep it slow, feels so good, huh?”

You stay like this for so long. Gentle touches, enjoying the intimacy, the sensations, the soft sighs and gasps of enjoyment, the joy of giving each other pleasure like this.

You look up at Yoongi and your eyes meet, your heart pounding as he leans down to kiss you softly. You shift a little on the bed, allowing him to line up with you and you groan softly when he enters you finally. “All good?” He’s studying your face and you nod, eyes almost rolling back in your head.

“I love you.” He tells you, eyes fixed on your own. You take a shaky breath, trying to speak through the barrage of sensation. This is important, though. You need to tell him, too. “Yoongi I loveyousomuch!” you manage, slurring it together, hoping he understands. The scrunch of his face and the wetness of his eyes tells you that he did. He kisses you softly on the tip of your nose and starts to move.

Even now, he takes his time; setting up a rolling rhythm that has you moving against him, stroking his arms, his back, smoothing over his butt and trying desperately to pull him as close as possible to you. His pelvis is hitting right where you need it most and you’re building toward something extraordinary, you know it.

It’s slow, leisurely even, but every movement, every stroke against each other’s skin feels incredible. Time seems to have slowed, to have lost all meaning.

“Feel good?” he pants again and you let out a little sob of pleasure at the sensation, even as you gasp out your “So good, so good!” in response.

“Gonna come soon!” he grinds out. “Want me to wait?”

You shake your head and he reaches down to touch you once more and then suddenly, wave after wave of pleasure floods over you. You feel like you’re floating, simultaneously utterly relaxed and at the same time every nerve of your body tensed and tightened.  Someone’s calling out and Yoongi is moving faster, harder and you’re dimly aware of his own cry as he finishes, rocking your body against his as tears gather at the corner of your eyes and run into your hair.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi wonders if he’s blacked out for a minute; he feels spacey, slightly tearful and with a huge effort, he leans up on his hands to look down at you. Your eyes are glazed, unfocused, he can feel you still twitching around him, making him gasp with the aftershocks.

It takes him a few moments to find any words.

“You good?” His voice is a whisper.

“Dunno..I…God, It’s..I’ve never…”

He chuckles raspily. “Can’t talk? Did I break you?”

You swipe at his arm pathetically. “Gonna call an ambulance for me?”

“They wouldn’t be surprised, got ‘em on speed dial!”

You huff an exhausted laugh at this “Oh, really? What, ‘Quick, put the sirens on, Min Yoongi’s broken another girl!’”

You’re both giggling now. He rolls back towards you and props himself up on one elbow. You smile stupidly at each other before he reaches over to brush your hair off your face.

“No,” he says. 

“There’s just you.”

Chapter Text

It’s getting dark and the lights are on low in your tiny apartment as the evening draws in.

It’s been two weeks since Yoongi stayed over for the first time and you’ve settled into a new normal, seeing each other between your study and cleaning and his new job which he’s settling into well.

Life is good. Today, being Sunday, has been a lazy day of coffee, sex, tv and takeout and you’ve just emerged from the bedroom in proper clothes, ready to go to work. Mrs Choi has you doing a deep clean on floor 7, which is not part of your normal roster but useful extra money.

“I should probably go home and get some clean clothes!” yawns Yoongi, stretching out on your sofa.

You nod, grabbing your hoody from the back of a chair and shrugging it on. “Want to come back later?” you ask, hopefully, “or’ve you got stuff to do at home?”

Yoongi puts his phone down, clicks his neck from side to side and stands up, ambling over to you. He wraps his arms around you and brushes his nose against yours. “I wanna come back later!” he murmurs. He smells of washing powder and cinnamon and sex.

You smile against his mouth. “Maybe we could go to your place tonight?”

There’s a pause and Yoongi looks away briefly, as though considering this. He takes a step back and runs a hand through his messy mop of black hair. When he looks back, his expression is hard to read. “Err…I suppose, yeah.”

You zip your top up, suddenly unsure. “Is that…a problem? You’d rather I didn’t come to yours?”

“Of course not!” He shakes his head “It’s…yeah I suppose…let’s do that.” He turns back to the sofa and picks up his own hoody, shrugging it over his head and flicking his hair out at the back.

You nod, but there’s still a niggling feeling that something’s off somehow.

You try for a different tack. “I need to make a decision about the internship at Lucy’s company, remember? The one she recommended me for. What do you think? What should I do? Shall I take it?”

He shrugs, picking his phone up again, “Well it’s up to you, what do you want to do?”

“Well, I need to know if you’ll be okay with it if I do?”

He shakes his head, “Why wouldn’t I be okay? You can do what you want, it’s not my decision!”

“Well, no, but I’d have less time for a few months and I’d like your opinion?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Up to you. Do whatever you think.”

There’s a pause as he starts scrolling through his phone again.

You’re confused at his response but you can’t hang around, you’re late as it is. “Uhh, well, then. I’ll get going.” You start to tie your shoes. “Lee will be wondering why I’m not there wiping down his surfaces!” you add, trying to lighten the mood.

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, Go and ask that tosser his opinions, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to sort you out.” His tone has turned a little bitter and a sudden sense of dread washes over you. When you look up he’s frowning.

“Hey, I was just..it was just a joke, Yoongs!” the atmosphere has shifted completely now and you’ve no idea how to shift it back. You stare at him, confused.

“S'not funny,” he snaps.

That’s it, you think. That’s all you’re getting. His face is blank now and you get the impression that he’s shut off from you completely. This is new; you’ve seen him like this at the office when he’s absorbed in work, but never when you’re in the middle of a discussion.

There’s a lump in your throat as you turn and grab your bag. “Okay, well shut the door properly when you leave,” you manage. Your face feels hot and you pause in the doorway and wait for him to call out to you, wait for him to call you back.

He doesn’t.

***********************************************************************************************************************************

The wind is biting and Lucy steps a little closer to Taehyung as they wander back to her place. Citrus was quiet tonight as it usually is on Sundays. It’s the first time they’ve been able to get together for a while, both busy with work, so when Taehyung had suggested a drink, she’d been just as keen to get together as he had.

Now, he’s insisted on seeing her home and they’ve talked all the way. They pass under a streetlight and the sudden glow against Lucy’s auburn hair makes it look like its on fire, he thinks. Like some kind of halo. The colour is extraordinary. She looks up at him and widens her green eyes in question. “What is it?” she murmurs.

Tay shrugs. “What was it like for you at school?” he asks, “Did you get bullied?”

She stares at him for a moment and looks back down at the path, pulling her coat tighter around her neck.

“Because I look different, you mean?” she’s still looking straight ahead and Tay wonders if he’s offended her.

“Yeah. Kids are horrible, right? Anything different’s fair game so I just wondered…” he trails off, nervously.

Yeah, that’s true.” She looks up at him and pulls a face. “Yeah, it was pretty bad actually. I try not to think about it these days but there were some rough times. Ended up in hospital one time, actually.”

“Shit!” Tay looks concerned. “What happened?”

“A group of girls cornered me in the toilets, and took it in turns to punch me.” She narrates the sentence so completely factually that it takes a moment for the words to sink in.

Tay stops walking and turns to her in horror. “They what?”

“Yeah, Girls are the worst bullies, it doesn’t matter where you live, but this time the problem was that apparently my eyes were the wrong colour. So I ended up with cracked ribs, a black eye and minor concussion. After that I changed to an international school and it was fine. I grew up quicker, though, I guess.” She turns to carry on walking and Tay puts his arm around her shoulder. It feels nice; heavy and comforting.

“My Dad’s translation job ended and my parents went back to the states, and my sister and I chose to stay on for Uni because it felt like home here. It was my choice.” She nudges him in his side and a hint of amusement returns to her voice. “So you can stop feeling sorry for me now!”

Tay shrugs as they stop at the lights, waiting to cross the busy road. “People just suck, I guess.”

Lucy sighs, “I feel like I’ve killed the mood!”

“Oh, was there a mood?” Taehyungs asks, innocently.

Lucy snorts in a slightly unladylike way and slips her hand into his back pocket as they cross. “Well, I had hoped you might be staying over tonight!” she says, airily, as though it doesn’t matter either way.

“Ooh, staying the night, that is a mood!” Taehyung nods.

“Oh, too serious? Because you’re more of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy?” Lucy looks up to see Taehyung wince and instantly regrets her words, her face falling. “I’m sorry, Tay, that was out of line.” She starts to pull her hand away from him and he shakes his head and pulls her closer.

“No, that’s fair. But I really like you and I don’t want this to be a one-off. I want more serious this time. With you…I’m hoping you’ll be my girlfriend, that we could…go steady?”

Lucy’s smile is a little shy now, “I’d like that too! I…Don’t you want to decide that after you stay though? What if it…isn’t good, what if…I’m not good? Or we’re not…compatible? I think you’re more experienced than me…?” she’s not looking at him now, eyes following the leaves skipping along the pavement.

Tay pauses, frowning as he gathers his thoughts, “I don’t think that’s a thing,” he offers. “There’s no such thing as bad sex, just bad communication. If people say they’re not compatible it’s because they don’t connect up here,” he taps his forehead, “not because of a problem down there!”

Lucy shakes her head in surprise. He’s done it again; taught her something new, made her feel like she’s not the only adult in a relationship, for once. Who is this guy, who’s so imaginative and so thoughtful? How is it possible to keep that childlike wonder and yet have this wisdom at the same time?

She doesn’t know, but she wants more of it.

*******************************************************************************************************************************

Taehyung is a little off-balance. He’s sitting on Lucy’s expensive sofa in her very tidy apartment with a glass of wine in his hand. She has pink and grey wallpaper with flamingoes on it.

Historically, at his stage of the night he’s usually been in some girl’s untidy dorm room with a bottle of soju trying desperately to remember her name and opting for some variation of Jagi or Kiddo. Usually the girl doesn’t care and he’s only there for a couple of hours, before he’s pulling his pants back on, explaining he’s got an early start at his Very Important Job and promising to call.

But it’s different now. He should tell her, he decides. He drains his glass, sets it on the glass table and turns back to her, shifting his weight to look at her properly.

“I really, really like you,” he announces, slightly breathlessly.

Lucy smiles. 

She smiles and Tay feels like he’s sinking, like he’s scrambling to keep his footing to keep from drowning, it’s hard to breathe.

He’s found her.

She stands up, flicks her hair behind her ear in what he’s coming to realise is a habit. “Let’s go to bed,” she suggests, face a little flushed, reaching out to take his hand.

Taehyung stands too, takes her hand, and lets her lead him to her bedroom.

He waits in a bit of a daze as she starts to undo her dress and turns her back to him. There’s a pause and he realises that she’s waiting for him to unzip her. He murmurs an apology and pulls the zip down, trailing his finger down her back as he does so, noting her shiver, the lack of a bra and the top of her lacy thong.

He feels like he’s on firmer ground now as he pulls the dress of her shoulders as hears her little gasp as he reaches round to cup her breasts. The dress drops to the floor and she kicks it away, arching her back against his front and he looks up to see them both reflected in her mirror.

He’s still in his work clothes and the image before him is stunning; Lucy wearing nothing but a scrap of black lace and he's fully suited, tie slightly loosened, holding her body against his.

“Oh my God! I feel like I need a picture of this!” gasps Lucy. He squeezes slightly in response and she makes a little noise in the back of her throat as he pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it and snaps the picture.

He releases her long enough to shuck off his own clothes while she gets into bed, watching his every movement.

He’s beautiful, she thinks and the way he’s looking at her makes her feel beautiful too. He joins her on the bed and leans in to kiss her. His mouth is soft on hers, undemanding, letting her lead the way. His hands are warm against her skin as they glide over her body. Lucy stops thinking and relaxes against the pillows. His hand moves lower, touching her properly and she reaches down too, to take him in her hand, making him gasp against her mouth.

There’s a moment a little later on when he’s moving inside her and she looks up into his face, to find his eyes, open, fixed on her face. He smiles and then winks at her, making her laugh, even as he moves faster against her.

‘This is good’ she thinks. ‘This is right. We’re going to have something here that’s really good!’

**********************************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi slams his door and surveys his empty apartment. It’s not very warm in here, the heating needs turning up and it’s far too quiet. He likes quiet, he reminds himself. Maybe he likes it better with someone else though?

He reclaimed this apartment months ago, got his own space back. His refuge. There’s no shouting here now, no door-slamming, not even deafening silences, just peace and quiet. Is it wrong to want to maintain that? To keep this as a sanctuary?

Yoongi sinks down on his own sofa; the leather is cold to the touch and too smooth, not soft and lumpy like he’s got used to. He sighs. He’s behaved like a total a dick, he knows he has, can still see the confusion on her face. Why did he make it so weird? He knows why, he just hasn’t been honest with himself.

He needs to let her in, both metaphorically and physically.

He tries to call, but she’s turned her phone off. Which is fair, why would she want to talk after how he behaved? Well, he’s going to have to make his actions speak for himself instead.

“Right.” Yoongi says to the empty apartment. He turns up the heating, turns on the lamps and goes to turn down the bed, before deciding it needs changing. When he’s finished that, he makes coffee, enjoying the aroma as it spreads through the room. Hwa-Yeon hated coffee. Ha! Take that, Hwa-Yeon; it’s not about you any more!

He drinks his coffee, scarfs a bowl of instant ramyeon, grabs his keys and heads back across town.

***********************************************************************************************************************************

You’re tired when you get home. Truth be told, you haven’t had a lot of sleep lately and you’ve spent the last few hours stewing over your conversation with Yoongi.

He’s tried to call, but he doesn’t deserve to talk to you because he was a dick. So screw him. He can take some time and sort himself out.

You’ve impressed yourself by not blaming yourself for this and instead you’re now annoyed. Annoyed and tired, and hungry; more than ready to get into the gimbap you picked up on the way home.

You let yourself in, throw your keys on the side table and head to the kitchenette, dumping your bag of dinner on the counter. Then you stop.

Because Yoongi is sitting on your sofa.

Your mouth drops open in surprise and then you narrow your eyes, folding your arms in case he sees your hands shaking.

“Why are you still here?”

He holds his hands up in supplication in the universal ‘whoa, easy!’ sign. He looks miserable, but you’re going to stand firm.

“I’m an idiot!” he says.

You nod, this is a good start. “You are.”

“And I’m really sorry.” He sighs. “I over-reacted and I owe you an explanation.”

“You do!” You take your food out and peel the lid off your gimbap, loading a piece into your mouth and chewing. You don’t offer him any, which is incredibly rude, but you don’t care.

His mouth twitches ruefully and he pauses.

“Go on then!” You wave your chopsticks airily in his direction and carry on eating.

Yoongi takes a breath and begins. “I told you about Hwa-Yeon and the end of our relationship?”

You nod, feeling slightly sick, wondering what's coming. Is he ending this too?

He carries on, waving his hand as he speaks, dark eyes focused on something far away. “It was awful at the end and my place was like a war zone. I got to the point where I hated going home…” he pauses, memories playing across his face, he looks a little sick and you squash down a pang of sympathy. Still a dick.

“When she left, it was like I had my life back. And I had my home back. I got rid of every trace of her and it went back to being mine.” You think you're starting to understand now.

You put down your chopsticks and pick the cokes out of the bag, moving around the counter to hold one out to him. He takes it with a little nod.

You sit down on a chair with the coffee table between you and take a swig out of your can. “So, you think that if I come to yours, it’ll stop being your sanctuary? That I’ll spoil it somehow, make it somewhere that you can’t be happy anymore?”

“No!” he shakes his head firmly. “No, because you’re not her. I know that; I thought about why I said all that stuff, but it was just a stupid reaction.” He leans forward, hands on his knees, eyes searching yours. “I was thinking that if I let someone in, it’d be like it was before but of course it won’t be, because you’re you.” He shakes his head again, staring at his knees and repeats softly, “I’m so glad you’re you!”

You swallow down the emotion and nod, thoughtfully. “Why were you so upset over that joke about Lee? After all you said about trust, I…”

“No,” he interrupts. “It’s not a trust thing, it’s…” he rubs a hand across his eyes. “I’m fucking it all up. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’d got inside my head and when you said that…” he pulls a face then looks up at you. “She used to do that all the time, you see. Dangle guys in front of me, tell me how cool they were, how much fun she had with the guys at work, all the ways they were friendlier, cooler, better than me. Then you said that, and I just flipped. I’m so sorry. Of course I trust you.”

It’s this that breaks you open. You feel a rush of sympathy for him; this gorgeous kind, patient man who was damaged by someone who didn’t really see him.

Just like you.

You get up to move around the table and sit next to him. Your sofa is really lumpy, you think.

“We’re a right pair aren’t we? I think, maybe I thought you were perfect, but we’ve both got stuff to get through.”

Yoongi snorts. “I’m way off perfect. But I’ll work on it and so will you and we’ll get through it together, yeah?” he nudges you affectionately. “You were properly cross with me weren’t you? If I hadn’t been so scared, I’d have been proud of you!”

You laugh, as a stray tear escapes and wipe your eyes. “You were a dick!” you protest.

Yoongi pulls you sideways onto his lap, making you squeak as you shift onto him and wriggle to find a more comfortable spot. “I brought you something” he announces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Is it diamonds? I think a first argument deserves diamonds!”

Yoongi laughs. “It’s not diamonds, it’s better than that.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls his hand out, closed. “Here!” he says. You hold out your hand and he drops something into it.

“It’s a key to my place.”

You stare at the key in your hand. “Yoongi, are you sure? You don’t have to…”

“I want to." He starts to push you off his lap. "Come on, lets go now.”

You wipe your eyes again and clutch at his arm to stop him. “We can stay here,” you whisper. “I don’t mind.”

“No.” Yoongi is firm. “I cleaned and brewed coffee and changed the sheets and I’m taking you home to my place and my bed and I’m keeping you there!”

The implication is not lost on you and you feel a little shudder of anticipation. “Oh! Um, okay!”

Yoongi strokes his thumb across your cheek. “I really am sorry,” he tells you soberly, “And I really do want you there." He kisses you softly, lingering against your lips.

"Come on, lets go home.”

********************************************************************************************************************************

Yoongi’s bed is big and he buys more expensive sheets than you; they’re somehow both softer and smoother than yours. You don’t have too much time to consider them before he’s on top of you, kissing you hard and then kissing his way down your body and pushing your legs apart.

Then his mouth’s on you, tongue working against you to create the most delicious sensations that have you writhing against him. He slaps your thigh and when he speaks his voice is so low it's almost a growl. “Stay still for me, baby!”

You gasp. “I can’t...I don’t want to... finish, not yet, wanna return the favour.”

He lifts his face, blows hair out of his face and raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, well in that case…!” He pushes himself up and flops onto his back in all his naked glory and you eye him doubtfully before bending to your task. This isn’t usually your favourite thing, but once you take him in your mouth, the noises that Yoongi produces and the soft, smooth weight of him on your tongue make you want to keep doing this forever.

“Yeah, just like that!” he manages. “Fuck, feels amazing. You’re amazing. We should argue more often!”

You have to pull off at this point to laugh, so you crawl up his body and ease down onto him instead. There’s a familiar intimacy in this; he senses when you begin to tire, rolls you over and starts again, moving steadily against you, until you topple over the edge, finishing almost together.

You catch your breath, as Yoongi rolls onto his back, letting your eyes roam the bedroom. There’s a clock on the wall opposite; silver and black with gothic numerals.

“It’s still only nine!” you tell Yoongi.

He turns back to you and smirks, “Good. Plenty of time. We can investigate my enormous box of adult toys!”

You laugh, “Actually that was something Lucy asked me once; if you brought your work home with you!” You lie back and stretch, enjoying the slight ache of your muscles.

He grins. “Well, just say the word. I’ve got a couple of prototypes in there that’d make your eyes water!”

You giggle, then turn back to face him, hand on his waist, stroking his soft skin. “Actually, I’m not bothered, really," you trail your hand lower. "Not sure there’s any point when I’ve got the real thing!”

Yoongi nods very serious. “Well played.” He pulls you against him, “we don’t need ‘em!" he declares, planting a kiss on your temple. "Sex toys are definitely over-rated!”

You laugh, enjoying the moment, the fun, the closeness. He’s right; you don’t need them.

Everything you need is right here.

Chapter Text

“What colour is that called again?” she asks, swinging her legs as she perches on the shelving unit opposite the bathroom vanity.

Yoongi meets her eyes in the mirror and pauses in tying his tie.  He’s getting ready for a meeting which he hopes is going to result in a pay rise and some more interesting work. He glances down at the brand-new suit he’s sporting. “Uh..brick? Or rust, I think?” He clears his throat, his voice hasn’t warmed up yet, still scratchy and too deep. “The guy in Brioni did say the colour, but I wasn’t really listening.”

She snorts. “The guy in that shop wanted to jump your bones more than I did when you came outta the changing room!”

Yoongi pulls a face at her, but he can feel that he’s gone a little pink; she’s right, the guy in the shop was uncomfortably flirty with him and more than a little over the top.

She’s still smirking. “D’you think we should’ve brought him home? Spice things up a bit?” she’s deliberately winding him up now and he knows it, can tell from the sparkle in her eye.

Luckily, two can play that game.

“Yeah, maybe. What was his name? Riko? Miko? Haven’t had a guy for a while, might be a nice change.” He’s never actually been with a guy and they both know it, but he forges on anyway. He clears his throat and goes for bravado, “maybe I should’ve given Miko my number in case I get bored of you!”

She raises an eyebrow, “oh, really?” She pauses, flicking her hair over her shoulder.  “Your mother would never forgive you; she loves me too much. D’you know, since your birthday dinner she and my Eomma facetime twice a week to gossip about us?”

Yoongi laughs, warmth spreading through him, “I know. They’re planning a wedding, I think.”

She swings her legs again, “oh good, that means we don’t have to!”

Yoongi fiddles with a cufflink, still smiling. “Yeah, I think they have most of it sorted. I might have to let them know about Miko though, bet they haven’t planned on him!”

“Oh, so Miko’s coming to our wedding now is he? I thought he was just a one -night thing!”

“One night? You’re such a user! Poor Miko!”

She giggles, “well, I’m certain your mother wouldn’t approve of Miko and I have to keep her sweet; she’s my biggest fan!”

Yoongi works the other little metal link through the cuff of his sleeve, “Only because she doesn’t know how rude and disrespectful you are to me.” He sighs, theatrically, shaking his head. “If she did, she’d be telling me to make you behave. Discipline! That’s what mouthy little students like you need,” he declares.

He pauses, decides to wind her up a bit, his voice still rough and gravelly.

“I think you need me to give you some proper discipline!”

He risks a glance at her and freezes. Her mouth has dropped open, and she looks a little flushed, as though she likes that idea. She closes her mouth then opens it again.

He smirks, pleased with himself, and raises an eyebrow at her, watching the exact moment that the last of the sass drains out of her as she stares back at him, wide eyed and a little breathless.

Yoongi knows that look. He glances at his watch; he’s still got plenty of time. If he plays his cards right, he’ll be going to work with a smile on his face.

He studies her. She’s still in her short pyjamas, the ones made of the shiny stuff he loves, sleep-mussed, bare faced, a little rumpled.

Gorgeous.

He gives himself a last look in the mirror, he does look good, he thinks. He’s seeing himself more and more through her eyes these days; he hasn’t missed the way her gaze lingers on him, and he knows for a fact that his suits drive her crazy.

He turns around and adjusts his cufflinks as he steps closer to her and drops his voice lower. “Come to think of it, I reckon that now might be the perfect time for a little discipline, don’t you think?”

She’s flushed very pink now, nodding enthusiastically and making Yoongi chuckle at her eagerness. He takes her hand and gives her a little tug, helping her off the shelves. His hands go to the hem of the pretty pyjama top and he lifts it up and off.

He stops laughing as he drinks in the sight of her. He’ll never get tired of this, he thinks. Never get over the perfection of these incredible curves, never forget how lucky he is that the girl he loves is wrapped up in such beautiful packaging.

She blinks up at him and licks her lips.

He bends his head to kiss her, softly at first, then more firmly, sliding his hands into her hair to angle her exactly how he wants her. She’s soft, pliant, allowing him to move her how he wants her. He smiles against her lips; she might be scrappy and smart-mouthed, but she’s putty in his hands as soon as he gets her in the bedroom.

Or the bathroom, as the case may be…

He slides his hands down to her shoulders and pulls her back towards him, turning her so that she’s facing the same mirror that he was, with her back to him. His hands reach around her to slide up to grasp her perfect breasts, thumbs rubbing at her nipples and making her gasp as his eyes meet hers again in the mirror. He’s so turned on now, he can only hope that he can last without making a fool of himself.

He pulls down the elastic waistband of her silky shorts to reveal a beautifully rounded cheek and almost without thinking draws his hand back to give it a hard slap. The sound echoes in the tiled bathroom and Yoongi has a sudden moment of horrified doubt that he’s pushed this too far.

His concerned eyes meet her wide ones in the mirror and he smooths his hand over the red mark that he’s just created. Before he can mumble an apology, she takes a breath, “Do that again!” she half-whispers.

He drops a kiss onto her shoulder. “You sure?” he checks, heart thumping.

 She responds by pushing back against him. “Please, Yoongi..”

Oh, God, yes. He pushes the side of her shorts down and gives a hard slap to the other cheek, then repeats his actions; a smack to each side, making her cry out each time, pinking up the smooth skin of her buttocks. God she looks amazing like this. He’s aware that the fabric is getting in his way and steps back, running a hand through his hair, he’s ridiculously hard now. “See?" He swallows and tries to sound tough. “Now you’re remembering how to be a good girl for me, right?”

It must work because she actually whimpers at this, the mirror shows that her eyes are huge in her flushed face, her breath coming out in excited little pants. Yoongi isn’t sure whether to kiss her or smack her again. He tugs at her pyjamas instead.

 “Nothing to say? Take these off!” he orders.

She scrabbles to push the shorts down her legs and flick them away with her foot, before he’s kicking her legs apart, getting her to shift so that he can touch her where he wants to. He leans briefly on the side of the vanity in a bid to stop his hand from shaking so much, and takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down a little.

Then he lifts one hand to her chest and the other between her legs, finally touching her. They both moan as he slides his fingers against her; she’s dripping wet and so slippery and warm and she feels so good and she’s all his to touch and please and love and he’s just so, so lucky.

Everything is too much now in the best possible way. He fumbles with his new belt which is too stiff and struggles to undo the tight button of the new pants before finally managing to release himself from the confines of his suit. When he looks in the mirror there’s a glint of amusement returning to her eye. “All good?” she murmurs breathlessly, “because I can call Miko and…”

He snorts a laugh, “shut up!”

She giggles and then gasps his name as he lines up and pushes into her. He groans at the same time she does; she’s gripping the vanity like a lifeline. “I want it hard and fast,” he grinds out. “That okay for you? That okay, baby?”

Her reply is a strangled “please...” which is all he needs to hear before he sets up a rhythm, pounding into her and watching her tits bounce with the force of his movements. It’s going to be over too soon, but he doesn’t care this time, can’t afford to take his time anyway. He reaches round to rub at her, feeling the pleasure rise, watching his own actions in the mirror and seeing that she’s watching too, eyes half closed in pleasure, making the whole thing even hotter, dirtier.

She comes almost immediately, contracting tightly around him, and calling out something unintelligible as she shakes under his body. His own orgasm hits him fast, still slamming into her as he releases, shouting “Fuck, fuck, yes!” as the spots dance in front of his eyes.

He carries on moving against her, not wanting it to end, pulling her body close against his. She sighs against him and the moments linger before she swears suddenly, “Oh God, your suit, hang on!” Then she’s unrolling toilet paper and wadding tissues and inspecting his crotch while he laughs and pushes her away. “It’s fine, pants were round my knees and I’ll tuck my shirt in anyway!”

She grins and leans back against the vanity, then winces as her butt meets the white porcelain. Yoongi frowns as he realises why and he feels a little sick. “Ah, fuck, did I really hurt you, baby?”

She smiles sheepishly. “No…I like it. Just feels kinda warm and sting-y.  Gonna help me remember this all day.” She smirks, “and maybe most of tomorrow too!”

Yoongi steps forward, wraps his arms around her and squeezes her tight. “I love you,” he mumbles into her hair.

She tiptoes up to kiss him softly. “I love you too.” She straightens his tie and smooths his hair back. “Now get going, you’ve got a promotion to win and a new suit to flash around!”

Yoongi glances in the mirror. “I’m going to wear this suit a lot!” he grins “Might stop in at Brioni so I can personally thank Miko!”

She giggles, “wait till Saturday and we can go and thank him together!” He catches sight of himself again in the mirror, laughing silently, his shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling, his teeth showing. He looks as happy as he feels inside.

And when Yoongi steps out onto the street and starts his walk to work, he’s still smiling.