Chapter Text
It's two weeks later when Yoongi wakes up and finds you sitting on the floor in front of the big bedroom window, dressed in his hoody and a blanket, legs naked and stretched out in front of you.
You are busy eating cereals and now he knows what woke him up – the sound of the spoon against the bowl, a sound not common in his bedroom. He already got used to your habit of eating everywhere you liked, in bed, on the couch, he even found a plate with crumbs next to the sink in the bathroom the other day, while you were having a bath.
Yoongi uses the moment of your obliviousness to watch you eat or rather stare thoughtfully out of the window while absentmindedly shoving a spoonful of your breakfast into your mouth every few minutes.
You haven't posted a story since the concert. He secretly subscribed to your blog as soon as he found out it was yours and every notification got his heart racing, at first with guilt and later with giddiness because it was his way to find out how you feel about him.
He knows you like him. He knows you enjoy spending time with him because you told him several times. He is also pretty sure you do more than just like him and he can't believe how lucky he is that you are as into him as he is into you. And then there's the sex. Since the first time two days after you quit your job, you have slept with each other a lot of times. It just happens. Cuddling leads to kissing leads to fucking and he loves it, of course, he does. He loves to touch you, feel you, watch you, hear you and yes, he loves to taste you as well. He goes down on you a lot. For some reason, you love to give head too and he doesn't mind, although he prefers your pussy over your mouth, because he doesn't have to be so gentle with it. He is glad you like it rough. Not that he is against tender sex. He isn't. It's just not what he can do currently. He is still not used to you being here, smiling at him, laying open on his bed, ready to be filled. It's still new, it still makes him nervous, every time he hears you at his door.
Yoongi has had his fair share of one night stands; more than enough to know that they aren't satisfying him the way he needs sex to be. He doesn't only want it to be an opportunity to get off. He needs a certain closeness and wants to feel that the woman wants him as a person and not only because he happens to have a dick. You never made him feel as if it was only the latter. You always make him feel like it is him you want to be close to. It's heaven. It's exciting. It's highly addictive. Thus the roughness he couldn't really avoid most times.
You lean towards the window, your eyes following a bird of prey that sails calmly along the windows of a block nearby. Another habit of yours. The most random things fascinate you and on several occasions, you got lost in them; a bird, some clouds, the way the sunlight wanders through his apartment.
He smiles when he realizes that of all the possible rooms in his home, you chose to remain here with him, silent and patient, determined to let him sleep but still be near him.
He wonders if you consider yourself his girlfriend. He was about to ask you at least five times in the last few days but in the end, he always chickened out. What if you said no again. You probably wouldn't but he couldn't be sure. In hindsight, he blamed it on the dynamic of the moment (and maybe the alcohol) that he had mentioned the girlfriend thing at that club. He had no intention of doing it when he invited you, although he had already loosely considered a relationship with you at that time. Yes, he didn't know much about you, but people often don't even truly know each other after being married for 20 years. It's always a process. Why not just jump into it. And as you brought the topic up... But even if he wasn't serious about it then, he certainly is now. Everything he has learned about you since that day has made him fall more in love with you. He could already tell which habits of yours will drive him mad one day, but he knows he will annoy the hell out of you too and that it was perfectly normal. Love would be the glue to keep you two together. That and tons of patience.
The bowl in your hands is empty and you place it next to you, before crouching closer to the window, eyes fixed on whatever was happening down on the street in front of his block.
Yoongi smirks. Your change in position has discarded the blanket and he is now presented with the answer to what he has suspected all along: you are wearing his hoody and his hoody alone.
Oblivious to your nakedness and Yoongi's staring, your attention is on the couple that is strolling along on the street below, holding hands, engaged in a conversation. Until now Yoongi and you have only spent time with each other at work, at the coffee shop and here in his apartment. You have no idea if he was one for walks or if he preferred the sea over mountains or vice versa. You have no idea about the most basic things. There is so much you still don't know about him.
But on the other hand, there is also a lot you do. It might just not be the basic things.
The couple has disappeared from your field of vision and you turn around to check if Yoongi is still sleeping.
He isn't and you catch him quickly dragging his eyes away from your backside, ducking slightly under the blanket as if caught doing something forbidden. Eyes narrowed, you reach behind you and feel your bare butt, which has obviously been bare for quite a while.
You crook a brow and Yoongi grins.
“I never knew this view could get any better, but apparently, it can.”
You roll your eyes in fake annoyance and Yoongi sits up, exposing his bare upper body, still sporting that wide carefree grin, he so seldom showed at the office, but all the more since you two started to meet privately. Before you know it your eyes drop to his chest, causing your guts to ache with want. It's insane how easily your body reacts to his, how addicted you are to him, how insatiable when it comes to touching. You probably had sex two dozen times already and you still want him as if you never got a taste before, starving, longing, craving the highs he gives you.
You blink and look up at his face again, finding Yoongi watching you intently, pupils blown wide.
“Come here,” he says softly, lifting the blanket to invite you in.
You get rid of the hoody and crawl towards him, slipping into the bed, immediately snuggling up against him. He wraps his arms around you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.
You trail his skin with your fingertips, feeling the bony parts, the soft parts, the muscles moving, the silky swelling that's already waiting for you. You continue with your feather-light ministrations, drop deeper, where the skin is different and seemingly moving on its own accord.
“Do you like it, when I touch you here?” you ask before you can think about it.
He doesn't answer but spreads his legs slightly to give you better access.
“There is still so much I don't know about you,” you whisper, cupping him tenderly.
“You will find out. In time,” he replies, turning to find your lips with his.
You kiss without haste, but soon you shift until you are on top, your crotch damn close to his.
“I've been thinking,” Yoongi murmurs against your mouth and you open your eyes in mixed anticipation. “You know I had those interviews recently.” You nod. After the first one, he instantly declined, as the position didn't feel right for him. The second was much more promising and you know he was waiting for them to offer him a job or at least invite him for a second interview. It's been three days and since it was the weekend, he didn't expect an answer for a few days. He knew there were several applicants, but the interview went well and he was positive to get a chance.
“Even if I don't get it, I'm going to quit.”
Your eyes grow big. Frowning, Yoongi stares at the ceiling, not noticing your surprise.
“I've talked to Hobi and if all else fails, I'm going to work at his studio.” Unsure, he looks at you. “As a producer.”
Wow. Astonished you sit up, your mutual nakedness forgotten. A wide smile starts to bloom on your face. “Ohmygod, that's amazing.” You don't hide your excitement. Yoongi has never intentionally shown you his music, you only got a glimpse of his equipment the other day, but you suspected he snuck a few of his songs into the playlist he usually listened to while cooking. The voice of that one rapper just sounded too damn familiar.
Upon your obvious enthusiasm, Yoongi's brows rise.
“Well, would you look at that,” he says dryly. "Someone is hoping I don't get the job."
"That someone thinks your music is pretty good."
His eyes crinkle with amusement. For a moment you just grin at each other.
"And how do you happen to know that? As I figure you haven't heard it yet."
"I may or may not have noticed the very deep and very sexy voice in some of the songs you played a few times."
His grin widens impossibly, making his eyes disappear.
"Deep and sexy, huh?"
"Very," you drawl, damn sure that your face shows him exactly how much you want him.
He pulls you down and captures your lips with hunger and greed and you surrender quickly, your hands finding him between your bodies.
"Damn, woman, I just can't keep my hands off you," he groans lowly and you chuckle.
"I actually moaned out loud in my last yoga class because my muscles were so sore. It hurt like hell to bend."
"Is that your way of telling me I should go easier on you?"
"God no, I love it when you fuck me."
When your words are out in the open, Yoongi pauses, backing away a little to study your expression. Ever so softly he cradles your face, drinking you in with dark sharp eyes, a sudden seriousness shining in them.
"You do?" he murmurs, watching your reaction and your answer is more breathy than anything.
"Yeah."
The silence that settles between you is only superficial. Beneath your skin, your heart pounds an anxious beat that deafens your ears and for a split second, you wonder if you went too far.
Then he kisses you.
His lips, usually so pressing and urgent, are calm now and so very tender. You lean into the touch of his mouth and for a while you just dance with each other that way, before he moves you around to get on top of you, his hips casually settled between your thighs. He looks at you again for a long moment and then starts to make his way downwards, stopping at your chest, to suck and caress, with unusual patience. The more he takes his time the more you relax and melt into his ministrations, low sounds signalling that you like what he does.
When he arrives at the heat between your legs, he just licks along your folds, again and again, a hot wet muscle gently caressing your swollen flesh.
This time it's not about getting off but soothing and you enjoy it so much, you are literally purring.
"This feels incredible", you sigh, when he kisses down your legs and flickers his tongue against the hollow of your knees.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I want to touch you too though."
He moves until he lies next to you, his lengths pressed against your cheek. When you take him into your mouth he groans against your flesh and you clench, arching towards him mindlessly.
"You taste so good."
"So do you."
You continue with your hands, stroking his slick length slowly, whispering praises while making him feel as good as you without rushing for a high. Your whole body hums with bliss, a glowing vessel of warmth, wrapped around him, oblivious where you end and he begins.
When you do come eventually it's like honey being poured over your heated skin, a slow swelling of pleasure, resulting in a deep sigh.
Yoongi follows a while later, a quiet release into your hands, his body shuddering against yours.
Having so much free time on your hand is pretty convenient when you are in love and horny, and it's safe to say that you keep making the most of it. Waking up next to him is easy to get used to and you spend whole days at his place while he is at work, trying not to wait too impatiently. Time goes by quickly between kisses, touches and sweet talking and yes it's heaven and yes, you love it, but in the end, it can't distract you from the fact that these blissful times will come to an end sooner or later, namely when you start your new job. The closer this day gets, the more space it takes up in your thoughts. And by the time your last week off begins, you can hardly think about anything else.
It doesn't help that Yoongi himself hasn't been offered a new job yet. His frustration and your anxiety both increase with each passing day, which maybe wouldn't be a thing, if only you talked about it properly. Which you don't. So instead you tiptoe around it, Yoongi stating that he doesn't care and you trying to reassure him that you are looking forward to this new beginning. And secretly? Secretly you are losing your damn mind.
And what do you do, when you can't talk about what is going on in your head? You withdraw from people and shut off the world, which means Yoongi.
It takes a while until he notices. You are getting quieter and quieter and on Wednesday before your new job starts, you stay at home entirely, spending two nights there in a row, which hadn't happened in weeks. You don't know what to tell Yoongi apart from bullshit like needing to do laundry and water your plants, but he doesn't press further when he drops you at your place on his way to work, saying goodbye with a lingering kiss, that makes your head spin.
Finally up in your home again, you look around and try not to cry. It's the familiar feeling of too much and too little at the same time, the feeling of not being able to cope, not being able to get rid of all the feelings that are choking you. Heart racing in your chest, you sink down in your hallway, coat still on, shoes still tied.
You know a few things about your new job and you know you can always start again somewhere else if it sucks but at this very moment quitting your old job feels like running away and you wonder if it was worth it, if the situation has really been that bad. If it hasn't been all in your head and you just too fucking sensitive.
You wonder if you will do better in this new, much smaller company, or if you will struggle with the same loneliness and separation. What if it couldn't get better no matter where you go because the problem is you and not your surroundings?
And then you start worrying about Yoongi and growing apart from him. Relationships are easy when there are no struggles, no daily grinding, but what if your new job swallows you completely and you don't have energy left to deal with another person?
You enjoy your time with him, you really do, but although you spent several weeks together, you haven't named what you are, yet. Not that you doubt Yoongi's feelings or his desire to spend time with you. He made it more than clear several times that he was happy about waking up beside you or coming home to you being there. But. You hate to admit it, but you'd love to put a label on this, define it, make it feel less fleeting, make it a fixed point in your life that is about to change in a direction you have no idea about yet. The only problem is, you don't want to ask for it. You want Yoongi to say it, to tell you that he would like you to be his girlfriend. You long for it and it's the only way to avoid wondering afterwards if you forced yourself on him. You need to hear it from him yourself.
Too bad he just doesn't bring it up.
When your back starts to hurt, you finally get up, take off your coat and shoes and proceed to the bedroom, where you change clothes and slip into your bed. Although the day has already started, you don't feel like taking part in it, but rather diving into social media, a guilty pleasure that fell short during the last weeks.
It's past noon, when you remember your blog and start checking for comments and likes, scrolling through your stories.
Reading them now that you are so close to him, feels weird. You didn't write as many stories about Yoongi as you wrote about Taehyung, but you quickly find that none of the few come close to the real thing. For a brief moment, you consider deleting them but then a comment catches your eye, making you pause.
I love your writing style and always wait impatiently for new stories. But you haven't posted anything in so long. Is everything okay?
Your first thought is to reply 'more than okay'. But the second is 'No'.
You start typing and before you know it, you are pouring your heart out to this stranger, talking about your fear of failing, of causing your own suffering, of never being satisfied.
Of losing the love you only found so recently.
When you press reply and your answer appears on your blog for everyone to see, you feel even more miserable.
“Everything done? Want me to pick you up after work?”
“Not yet, let's just meet again tomorrow, okay?”
It's an awful feeling to lie to him, but the thought of seeing him, touching him, laughing with him, terrifies you even more, which says a lot about the mental state you are in.
It takes 30 minutes until he replies and his message makes your heart sink, but there is no going back now.
“Ok. Sleep well.”
“You too.”
Two hours later, when he must have gotten home, you receive another message.
“It's strange being home alone. I miss you.”
And because you are a coward, you don't reply to that.
It's your best friend again, who helps you figure shit out. Or rather, gives you a good talking-to.
“What do you mean you are home alone? What about your handsome lover? Don't tell me you called things off already?”
“No! At least that's what I think. He told me he missed me. I just need some space because I have too much on my mind.”
“You need space? Are you fucking kidding me?”
The three dots appear again immediately afterwards, telling you your friend is typing another message. Already guessing where this is going, you don't bother to answer the first one.
Deep down you know she is right. But this precious knowledge is currently buried by a thick layer of trying not to be too much.
“I bet you didn't tell him you missed him too, did you? For fuck's sake, y/n...is this really happening again?!”
This time you two type at the same time. But before you can press send, her picture pops up on your screen, signalling an incoming call.
“Running away again, are we?”
“I don't want to be difficult. And he can't help me anyway.”
She scoffs. “I bet that poor man doesn't even know what's going on with you. Have you at least tried to explain yourself or have you just made up a stupid excuse to hide?” She doesn't wait for your answer. “You haven't, am I right? For how long do we know each other? 20 years, 22? I can't believe you still do the same shit.” She pauses for a brief moment, but before you can say something, she continues, tone increasingly impatient. “He is a grown-ass man. He fucking knows that you don't dream about rainbows and unicorns all day, y/n. You are such a smart woman, but when it comes to relationships, you are fucking hopeless.”
“Kind as usual,” you get to mutter and she snorts but then her voice turns soft.
“If you can't tell him, then at least tell me. What's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”
And you tell her. How scared you are to fail, to not be liked, that it won't be better than your last job, that quitting won't change your difficulties when the problem is actually you. And how you don't dare to talk to Yoongi about all that, because you want him to believe that you are strong and got your shit together.
“He actually asked me whether I'm afraid, but I said no and that I'm looking forward to it. And he looked at me like I was hot shit and-”, you cut yourself off, remembering Yoongi fucking you right there and then in the shower. “Also he is still trying to find a new job and I don't want to remind him that I was lucky so quickly.”
Your friend is quiet for a while. Then she sighs, deeply and defeated.
“You need to talk to him.”
Your exhale following that is as tired as hers. “I know.”
“And you should do it rather sooner than later, bestie.”
Yes, you should. You very well know that too.
When you end the call, it's almost ten at night. You are exhausted but still panicky, so you switch your laptop on again and scroll through various pages, that help you distract yourself.
Back on your blog, you find a message in your inbox. A guest has apparently read your answer to the comment regarding your lack of posts and wrote: “If your new love is half as great as you say, I'm sure he'll understand your concerns.” Making a face because it sounds just like your best friend, you quickly type: “You should team up with my best friend. She told me the same or rather yelled at me for half an hour. Old habits die hard, though.”
Five minutes later, there is a new message. You frown. You never get messages. How come there are even two today?
“You could unlearn together. Maybe there are things he doesn't dare to tell you either. And speaking up could help him find the courage to open up to you too.”
What is it about the universe that sometimes all forces combine and point to the same thing from all possible angles? You get it, you should talk to him, you are going to do it, but you can't help it, he's not here right now, he's probably asleep too, so you'll do it tomorrow.
Promise.