play that vinyl (kitty cat)
There was a special place in hell for the jerks who fucked up his display.
The vinyl display was a small point of pride for Yoongi. He had refused to admit how excited he’d been when Seokjin had told them a few months ago that there was a unit in the back room he’d ordered as more real estate for the increasing demand of records. The shop was bringing in a decent crowd, and they were the kind of people who were too cool or good for Starbucks and Barnes & Nobles (in their opinion, at least). But Yoongi couldn’t really blame them. Their coffee was better, their books were used and thus had character, and their vinyl selection beat out at least half the music stores in the city in terms of quality (and quantity wasn’t looking bad either). Besides, if there was one thing hipsters had to have, it was vinyl.
And Yoongi’s vinyl display was fucking immaculate. With the extra unit, and the wooden rack to go with it, complete with fucking dividers, there was enough room to order them by genre and artist, in alphabetical fuckin’ order. Enough room to display the prettiest album art on the shelving right behind the bulk units, shit, enough room to have a couple featured records on display on top of it all, or a record player if he was in the mood. Yoongi got to his shift twenty minutes early some days just so he could organize it to his liking. There was an art to the music, okay? And it would be a fucking crime to not take advantage of the larger print of Duran Duran’s Rio.
So yeah, it annoyed him to no end when he looked over at the display and saw the dividers half hanging out of the boxes, the wrong records on display up against the wall, and, not even having to inspect to know that the alphabetical order was shot to hell.
What was worse was when Yoongi could see it happening from behind the café counter, preoccupied with a customer or said customer’s cup of coffee, with two shots of espresso and four creams and three and a half tablespoons of raw sugar, meanwhile, the douche with a beanie rested the vinyl sideways over the tops of the carefully organized piles, three feet from where he had originally pulled it.
“Asshole,” Yoongi said as he handed the coffee over to its owner, who frowned, looking wholly offended as she scuttled away, clearly eager to duck in between a row of bookshelves in the back and out of Yoongi’s line of vision.
“What did I tell you about scaring the customers?” Namjoon groaned from the other side of the counter.
“Same thing I told you about putting me on barista duty,” Yoongi said back. “Don’t do it.”
“Touché, but I’m blaming Jin for that one,” Namjoon said. “Wanna switch?”
At that moment, a soft chime sounded, indicating the front door of the shop opening. Yoongi and Namjoon both looked up and around, instinctively, and Namjoon let out a soft hum, arching a brow at Yoongi.
“I’m good here,” Yoongi said.
Namjoon shook his head. “Fuck you, and that. C’mon, apron off.” Namjoon walked around where the counter top latched open for employees, even as Yoongi looked away from him and at the group that had just come in, heading towards their usual table, which sat an equal distance from where Yoongi stood behind the countertop and the slew of bookshelves clustered at the back of the shop.
They were a familiar, cheerful group, a little loud at times, but never to the point that it was obnoxious or annoying. Besides, despite the bookshelves, it wasn’t like this was a library. Their shop, Seokjin’s shop really, was more of a coffee-music-bookshop combo. Directly across from the café was the spot for music, with vinyls prominent over anything, plus some CDs and a decent cassette selection, complete with a miniscule array of devices to play such items on. A few beanbags, a smattering of armchairs, and a slew of tables scattered around the middle. And of course, the café. “A hipster haven,” Namjoon had declared when they were closing the shop together one night, and Yoongi had smacked him with the broom he’d been holding, even if he agreed.
So it wasn’t the group’s giggling and chatting that sometimes had a person watching for longer than was strictly normal. What made this group slightly different from any other group of kids from the nearby uni was the fact that they were all hybrids.
Granted—hybrids had stopped really being a big deal around the time Yoongi had stopped needing diapers. Sure, they were still a minority if you looked at the numbers, with some smaller towns not even having a hybrid population yet, but that wasn’t the case in the city. Not to mention, their shop did attract a, ah, more diverse sort of crowd. One time a lady had walked in with a ferret on a leash, and he and Namjoon had spent the next 40 minutes debating whether they were allowed to ask her to leave, unsure if the vest the ferret was wearing meant it was an emotional support animal or not. Not one customer complained. Granted, that had only happened once, and there’d only been two other people in the shop.
There was something undeniably eye-catching about the hybrids. They had a different…feeling. A different way of carrying themselves. It wasn’t bad, by any means. But it was different.
This group in particular.
Him in particular.
“You gonna stare from behind the record display again?” Namjoon said, slamming down the hinged counter that served as the café’s employee entrance. Yoongi glared at him, ripping off his apron and throwing it at his face. Namjoon made a grab for it and missed, stooping to pick it up from the ground with an eye roll.
“I dunno, are you gonna fuck up another coffee while you stare?” Yoongi shot back, glancing from Namjoon’s suddenly pink face to the two familiar figures bringing up the rear of the group. Taehyung, with his cute, triangular dog ears, their golden reddish color blending seamlessly with his hair, was grinning over his shoulder at Jungkook, whose hands were gripped around his forearm, tugging at him playfully. His dark, sleek rabbit ears, one flopping adorably down into his brown hair, twitched as he laughed, a cute peal of sound that had Taehyung’s fluffy, curled tail swinging happily and Namjoon’s pink cheeks darkening considerably.
“Shut up or I’m gonna tell Jimin about that time you wrote your number on his cappuccino cup and then chickened out and made him wait ten minutes for you to make a new one,” Namjoon snapped.
Fuck. He got so salty when he was embarrassed. Yoongi must be rubbing off on him.
“Fuck you,” he rebutted, swinging open the counter hinge and slamming it down with a little more force than was necessary. He glanced behind him, wondering if the noise had been a little excessive, feeling his heart beat skip when he saw who had looked around at the bang.
Jimin was looking at him, swinging his bag off his shoulder and hooking it onto the back of a chair that sat around the hybrids’ usual table. His blonde hair was windswept, pointed, fluffy cat ears twitching forward in Yoongi’s direction. His tail curled around the arm rest of the chair, a movement that seemed more restless than purposeful, but his lips, plush, pink and wholly unfair, curved into a small smile. He lifted his fingers in a wave, blonde tail swishing back behind him and curving through the slats in the chair’s back as he sat down.
By the time Yoongi realized he had not responded in kind, Jimin had already looked away, towards the remaining two hybrids in the group. With how often they all came in, not to mention how long they had been coming in for, the five of them were bonafide regulars, and it hadn’t been hard to learn their names. From overhearing their conversations, to taking their coffee orders, to struggling not to choke on air when Jimin approached him about a tape, to helping Taehyung and Jungkook find a certain album or book while Namjoon was chickening out in the bathroom, they were relatively familiar with each other.
The other cat hybrid’s name was Jongdae, his dark, reddish brown cat ears closer together and more front facing than Jimin’s. Sliding into the seat next to him was Baekhyun. He was the most outwardly striking, large, fluffy black fox ears a stark contrast to the white silver strands of his hair. His eyes were amber in color, alert and sly, and he was the one looking at Yoongi now, a playful smile on his lips.
Yoongi huffed and turned away. He watched Namjoon judgmentally for a few seconds as the younger boy fumbled with a stack of coffee cups, trying and failing not to stare at Jungkook and Taehyung. When Namjoon dropped the stack and they went rolling all over the floor, he decided he would take the long way around to fix his display.
He wasn’t avoiding walking by the table. That would be ridiculous. It’s not like they made him nervous. Not like he thought that cat hybrid Jimin was the most beautiful fucking thing he’d seen since The Low End Theory’s album cover (not to mention the album itself) and he blushed like a 12-year old girl with a crush in front of him.
Yeah, definitely not.
So he didn’t have a good explanation for the way he startled when he passed by the second to last bookshelf and nearly ran right into Taehyung, who beamed at him, both hands coming out to grasp at his shoulders, almost as if he were stopping Yoongi from jumping too violently.
“Whoa, hyung, hi!” Taehyung exclaimed, shimmying a little in place before releasing Yoongi and stepping back. “What are you doing back here?”
“I,” Yoongi said. “I’m just making sure things are in order.”
Taehyung leaned forward and peeked up and down the back pathway, which was neat and quiet and completely absent of any disruptions. “Looks good. Hey, can you help me find this one album?”
“Sure, kid,” Yoongi said, and tried not to smile at the way Taehyung’s tail twitched.
“Ah, I knew you would, knew you would,” Taehyung chattered, hooking his arm through Yoongi’s and half dragging him towards the records. “Jungkookie said you mentioned it to him so he went and listened to it online, it's got this real weird album cover, sorta creepy, but he hasn’t shut up about it, like, he hasn’t shut up about it for an entire two weeks, can you believe that?”
Yoongi hummed, making his way towards the middle section and rifling through the dividers.
“And you have pretty good taste in music hyung, I mean, obviously you do, you work in a sort of music store, even though they sell books here too, but whatever, Namjoon-hyung can help us with the books, he’s so smart,” Taehyung paused, a small smile touching his lips as he glanced across the room towards the café. Yoongi followed his gaze and saw that Jungkook was currently leaning over the counter, biting his lower lip cutely at Namjoon who was furrowing his brow very hard at the various selections of creamer behind the counter.
Taehyung giggled, his ears flicking backwards then forwards very quickly, his eyes trained on the pair. “Y’know, Jungkook re-read the book Namjoon told him was his favorite like, four times.”
Yoongi was still thumbing through the stacks, but he glanced up at Taehyung as he said, “What about you?”
“Huh, me?” Taehyung turned back to him, grinning. “Bought my own copy, of course. Jungkook can’t have all the fun.”
Jesus. Namjoon was doomed. As Yoongi pulled out what he was looking for, the cardboard matte and smooth under his fingertips, he heard Namjoon curse and what suspiciously sounded like a creamer container toppling and exploding onto the ground. When he looked over, Jungkook was laughing into his arms and Namjoon was scrambling towards the back room for a mop.
Yoongi tapped Taehyung’s shoulder with the record. The younger boy’s eyes widened, his tail swinging back and forth as he grabbed it out of Yoongi’s hands, a little too violently for Yoongi’s taste, but the grin on his face was impossible to stay miffed at.
“Ah, hyung, this is it, this is it, holy cow I didn’t even tell you the name did I, you’re a genius, you know that?” Taehyung exclaimed, flinging his arms around Yoongi without any other warning.
Yoongi was actually used to this, so the pat on the dog hybrid’s back was only slightly awkward. “Been told that on occasion, yeah.”
Taehyung pulled back, looking down at the album excitedly. “Wow, this is so great.”
“You need to convert Jungkook to vinyl, you hear me?” Yoongi said. “Enough of that digital shit. Least not for an album like that.”
Taehyung grinned. “I’ll do my best, hyung.” He bounced on his toes. “Will you ring me up?”
Yoongi glanced up towards the cash register by the front doors, which was missing a set of broad shoulders behind it. “Where the fuck is Seokjin?”
Taehyung followed his gaze. “Handsome-hyung? He was out front when we came in. Talkin’ to a cute girl.”
“And he says he’s the owner,” Yoongi grumbled, walking towards the register. “Yeah, kid, I got you.”
Taehyung chirped his thanks to Yoongi when he handed over the paper bag, swinging back towards the table where the other three sat. Namjoon was still scrambling to make Jungkook’s coffee, mop in one hand and empty coffee cup in the other. Jungkook didn’t look phased by his clumsiness, and although Yoongi was very tempted to go back to the vinyl and fix that mess instead, he took pity on his friend and made his way towards the café counter.
Jungkook smiled at him as Yoongi ducked under the hinge without lifting it, trying not to laugh too hard at the sight of white creamer absolutely all over the floor.
“Wow, Namjoon, were you that happy to see Jungkook?”
Namjoon opened and closed his mouth so many times that he appeared to be having a stroke, Jungkook’s wide grin surely doing nothing to ease Namjoon’s embarrassment. Snickering, Yoongi grabbed a roll of paper towels from a lower cabinet and unrolled them over the mess on the floor.
“Yah, make the poor kid his coffee, Joon, kid’s been waiting for centuries.”
Namjoon was still trying to form words.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Jungkook said, leaning a little further over the counter so that his back arched, shirt falling forward to reveal the twitching rabbit tail poking over the waistline of his shorts, its underside white and fluffy. “Namjoon-hyung is fun to watch.”
Namjoon looked like he was seconds from blowing a circuit. Yoongi and Jungkook caught each other’s eye and for that brief moment, it was hard to tell whose grin was bigger.
“Yoongi will bring the coffee to you,” Namjoon blurted out, and Yoongi’s back straightened, glancing wildly over to the table where Jimin was fucking sitting and Namjoon very well knew that.
“But hyung, I want you to give it to me,” Jungkook pouted, and Yoongi had never been more grateful for anyone else in his life.
Namjoon tripped over the mop. “I, I, well, I—”
“What the hell is going on back here?”
The three of them looked up at the sound Seokjin’s very unimpressed voice. He was standing next to Jungkook, arms crossed, looking down at Namjoon pulling himself up from the ground, his knees damp with excess creamer Yoongi hadn’t managed to sop up yet.
“Seokjin-hyung,” Jungkook said with a mischievous grin. “Namjoon-hyung was just making me a drink.”
Seokjin cast Yoongi and Namjoon an appraising, judgmental look. “Yoongi, weren’t you supposed to be behind the counter?”
“Weren’t you supposed to be at the register?”
Seokjin huffed. “My mistake for thinking my two very capable employees could handle the shop for ten minutes while I stepped out.”
“That’s very big of you to admit,” Yoongi said.
Seokjin narrowed his eyes, glancing from him, to Namjoon, and finally, to the table where the other hybrids sat. Including Jimin.
He smiled and Yoongi’s body temperature dropped.
“Jungkook, bun, why don’t you sit down and Yoongi will bring your drink to you?” Seokjin said, his voice sweet.
Jungkook sighed hugely, casting Namjoon a forlorn sort of look, but it was hard to resist Seokjin when he turned the charm on. “Okay,” he said. He leaned forward one more time, casting Namjoon a happy smile. “But come say hi, hyung!”
Namjoon mumbled enough of a response for Jungkook to turn and walk back to his table.
“You’re a dick,” Yoongi said to Seokjin when Jungkook was out of earshot.
Seokjin snorted, but his eyes were twinkling. “Hurry up, yeah? Don’t trip on your way there, either. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself. Right, Namjoon?”
Namjoon rubbed a hand over his eyes and Yoongi glowered at Seokjin as walked back towards the register. He turned to Namjoon and grabbed the mop out of his hands. “Make the drink and try not to hurt yourself.”
Namjoon sighed. “Fuck.”
Yoongi could whole heartedly agree with that sentiment, but he figured Namjoon had suffered enough, so instead of griping, he cleaned up the rest of the mess in silence, grabbing creamer from the back to replace what Namjoon had spilled.
Seokjin might act like a dick sometimes, but he never charged Namjoon for his mishaps. A stupid business decision really, considering the amount of shit Namjoon spilled and/or broke on a weekly basis. Yoongi was particularly peeved at the older boy as he took Jungkook’s coffee from Namjoon, so he allowed himself to mentally curse Seokjin and his stupid managerial decisions as he turned, warm coffee in hand, and made his way over to the table of hybrids.
Baekhyun looked around at him first, amber eyes darting up when he was still several feet away. He had been writing in a notebook, but as Yoongi approached, he put down his pencil, raising a slender finger to his lips, and Yoongi felt almost like Baekhyun was considering him.
Jongdae was the first one to notice Baekhyun’s movement, but he only glanced at Yoongi for a second before turning back to his own notes, looking wholly unconcerned. When Yoongi was a couple feet away, Jimin looked up.
He stopped at the only edge of the table that didn’t have a chair, which happened to be directly across from Jimin, who was now smiling at him. Yoongi tongue poked out to wet his lower lip, definitely not nervously, nope, not nervous at all.
“Are you guys doing table service now?” Baekhyun drawled, his lips curling.
“Namjoon is just an idiot,” Yoongi said, putting down the cup and sliding it over to Jungkook on his right. “You might have broken him, Jungkook.”
Jungkook grinned up at Yoongi as Taehyung reached over and ruffled the top of Jungkook’s head, as if he were proud of him, which, Yoongi guessed, he probably was. The motion caused Jungkook’s other rabbit ear to flop down briefly, like the lopped one, before it straightened again, the tip of it folding over adorably.
Namjoon was totally fucked.
“He should just go out with them already, don’t you think Yoongi-hyung?”
Yoongi blinked at Jimin’s soft voice, looking up into his eyes, the swell of his cheeks.
“Well,” he said, hoping he hadn’t taken too long to respond. Baekhyun’s smirk made him think he definitely had. “We’d have to hire another employee. Because he’d definitely die.”
Jimin’s smile widened. Taehyung crossed his arms, pouting. “We wouldn’t kill him, Yoongi-hyung.”
“Yeah, that’s what you think,” Yoongi said.
Taehyung pursed his lips while Jungkook grinned.
“He’s probably right,” Jongdae said, his voice low and smooth. “The guy nearly killed himself making you a cup of coffee, Jungkook.”
“I think it’s adorable,” Jungkook said, bringing the coffee to his lips and taking a sip. He smiled down into the cup.
“You’re adorable,” Baekhyun cooed, eyes flicking from Yoongi to Jungkook and then back again. His fingers were now resting against his jaw, chin in his palm. “If Namjoon is too chicken to make a move, he probably doesn’t deserve you anyway, yeah?” Baekhyun’s fingers tapped against his cheek, eyes glinting. “Either of you.”
Taehyung was pouting again. Yoongi frowned. “Being shy doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve them.”
Baekhyun’s pinkie twitched forward to skim over his lips, one of his black, triangular ears mimicking the motion. “Why not? If he liked them enough, he would ask them out.”
Yoongi briefly sucked the skin of his cheek between his teeth, making a quiet clicking sound. “That’s not how it works.”
Baekhyun finally put his hand down on the table, but this seemed to intensify his gaze as he looked at Yoongi. “Then how’s it work, Yoongi?”
Yoongi felt a little fidgety under Baekhyun’s amber stare, but he was stubborn if nothing else, so, voice steady, he said, “He’s shy because he likes them so much. Should be taken as a compliment.
Baekhyun hummed, looking amused. “So you avoiding Jimin all the time is a compliment?”
Yoongi opened his mouth, feeling his tongue catch on his suddenly very dry lips. He didn’t want to look at Jimin, but he had to, wasn’t really surprised when the blonde brought his hand up to his mouth and giggled into his fingers.
“Well,” he said again, forcing himself to meet Jimin’s eyes, half-mooned little crescents in his smile. “Guess that depends on Jimin.” He stepped back. “Sorry the coffee took so long,” he added before turning away and making nothing short of a beeline towards the vinyl.
Shitfuck. Baekhyun was such a cocky fucking shit and Jimin's soft, breathy giggle was still ringing in his ears. Kid was way too cute, way too pretty, way, way too out of his league. Yoongi wasn’t even sure which fucking record he was holding, didn’t recognize the cover art, which was definitely a bad sign. He almost envied Namjoon, stupid fucking Namjoon who just dropped shit and had not one but two beautiful fuckin’ guys cooing and thinking he was just oh-so-adorable.
He nearly dropped the record when he felt a soft touch to his shoulder, whirling around and finding himself face to face with Jimin, who quickly pulled back his hand, pressing a softly closed fist to his mouth.
“Hyung,” Jimin said, and he smiled at Yoongi over his knuckles, his expression kind. Yoongi wanted to punch himself in the face, just a little bit. “I’m—I’m sorry about Baekhyun-hyung.” Jimin huffed, lowering his hand. His tail was swishing a little violently behind him, and Yoongi realized with a start that Jimin was nervous. “He likes teasing.”
Yoongi shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Seriously.”
Jimin licked his lips, reaching up to push some longer strands of hair out of his eyes. His left cat ear twitched. “Yoongi,” he said. His tail swished back and forth again, succeeding in swiping some of the displaced vinyls straight off the display table.
Jimin’s eyes widened and he shifted so his back was facing away from the display. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, ducking down to grab at the fallen records as Yoongi did the same. They both reached for the same one at once, hands knocking against each other. Jimin’s hands were soft and cool to the touch. Yoongi exhaled, pulling his hand back. Jimin glanced at him as he picked up the record, reaching for another one as Yoongi grabbed the third. They straightened, both a little flushed in the face. Jimin held out the records to Yoongi, who took them with a muttered, “thanks.”
Jimin hummed, leaning forward a little too close for it to be unintentional. Yoongi pressed his tongue against the underside of his teeth, trying to focus on that rather than how intent Jimin’s eyes were on his.
“I just wanted to say that I take it as a compliment,” he said, and he was smiling again. His tail swished, and Yoongi thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest when he felt it, soft and feather-like in its touch, briefly curl around his wrist. “And I don’t mind waiting.” Then Jimin was stepping back, a light flush still on his cheeks, smile still on his lips.
“Uh, okay,” Yoongi said.
Brilliant. Fucking brilliant, that’s what he was.
Jimin grinned at him though, unphased. He waved at Yoongi as he headed back towards his table, and, Yoongi, stupidly, waved back.
Spending the rest of his shift cleaning the back room seemed like the best next-course of action.
When Yoongi had met Jimin, he’d been on all fours.
He’d been fixing up the display. Some fucktwat had managed to get The Dark Side of the Moon and 1989 on the floor, smack under the table like they did it on purpose. While one infuriated him more than the other (seriously, he was pretty sure that Pink Floyd was not allowed to touch the ground) no vinyl deserved such treatment, not even Taylor Swift.
It was at the precise moment he was grumbling down at the cardboard, “whatever asshole did this definitely belongs on your blank space, Taylor,” when a soft, high-pitched voice had come from above him.
“Ah, excuse me?”
Yoongi cursed, lifting his head and promptly smacking it on the underside of the table. He cursed again and shunted forward enough so that he could poke his head out from under the surface and look up at the face of the one who had spoken.
Who just happened to be an angel. Complete with blonde hair, bright eyes, and cat ears.
Yoongi made to scramble to his feet and hit the bottom edge of the table with the back of his neck. “Oh, fuck, shit, fuck,” he said, sinking back down onto his hands, Seokjin’s reprimand for him to keep his language PG a nonexistent memory. He nearly cursed again when the cat hybrid giggled down at him, and, before Yoongi quite realized what was happening, crouched down so they were at eye level.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking incredibly amused as Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.
“Yeah,” Yoongi said, even though it hurt like a bitch and he was definitely going to bruise. He squinted at the guy in front of him, eyes flicking up to his blonde hair, cat ears of the same color nestled cutely in the fluffy locks, dipping back down to curved eyes, risking one very quick look at his lips. They were pretty. He was pretty. His right cat ear was twitching sideways and forwards at a quick rate. “Uh, hi. Can I help you?”
The hybrid’s smile turned wry. “Can I help you?” He shifted, and suddenly Yoongi had a brief face full of something soft and furry. Before he had a chance to even sneeze, the hybrid was laughing again as he lurched to his feet, hand batting at his own tail even as it curled back behind him again. “Shit, sorry.” He held out his hand. “Gimme the records and stand up carefully, okay?”
Yoongi definitely didn’t pout, but he did concede the two vinyls over to him, taking unfortunate note of his cute hands, small, not-quite-chubby fingers adorned with a variety of silver rings that clacked dully over the cardboard as he grasped the records. Slowly, he crawled out from under the table. Any other person would have stepped back, given Yoongi room as he made to stand, but this guy did no such thing, so Yoongi got a nice, close-up look at his legs, thighs thick and straining against denim. He straightened quickly, stepping back when this brought their faces close together. He was able to move back an inch before his ass smacked against the record table display.
The guy’s eyes flicked down to the nondescript name tag pinned crookedly on his plain black polo. “Yoongi?” he said, his voice almost a simper. His right ear had stopped twitching, and he tilted his head, lips curling into a smile.
“Yeah,” Yoongi said. “Can I—help you?”
One corner of his mouth twitched downwards. “Yes, please.” He looked down at the records in his hands, then back at the display behind Yoongi. “But let me help you first.” Suddenly, all Yoongi could smell was floral, maybe (probably) lavender, and the inch of space Yoongi had managed to gain was gone as the guy leaned forward, close enough that their shirts were brushing and he could feel warm breath on his neck, the hybrid’s soft tail flicking up the skin of his forearm as he peered at the records behind Yoongi. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Looks like the P’s go here.”
Yoongi shifted, swallowing a sharp exhale when the guy rested 1989 temporarily on Yoongi’s left-hand side, his arm curling around his right side as he reached and shuffled around with the records behind Yoongi until DSOTM slid into its proper place. He was practically hugging Yoongi. He definitely smelled like lavender.
“I usually like to know a guy’s name before second base,” Yoongi said, and immediately regretted everything, letting Seokjin convince him to work at this damn shop, his pretentious love for vinyl, his lopsided name tag, life in general.
But the guy giggled, giggled, leaning back, hugging 1989 to his chest, eyes peering over the top of it, basically picture perfect.
“I’m Jimin,” he said, lowering the album and smiling at Yoongi. He practically skipped to the far end of the table, sifting through the T’s and popping Taylor back in place. He turned to face Yoongi, still smiling. “Just started uni down at the school a month ago.”
Yoongi poked the inside of his lower lip with his tongue. “You a freshman?”
“Mhm,” Jimin said. His ear twitched again. “What about you?”
Yoongi ran a finger over the edges of the record covers. “Junior. M’only taking couple classes though. Shit’s expensive.”
Jimin hummed. “Hyung has a job though,” he said, and his voice was teasing.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “I’m shit at it. Wasn’t I supposed to be helping you?”
Jimin grinned. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Why would I want to do that?” Yoongi said, and although he meant for it to come out sarcastically, he sort of (definitely) meant it.
Jimin pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked the screen, and held it out for Yoongi to see. “Do you have this album?”
Yoongi leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “Vinyl or CD?”
Jimin licked his lips. “Uh, cassette, actually?”
Yoongi looked up at him, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You got something to play tapes on?”
Jimin raised one eyebrow in return. “Well I wouldn’t be asking you for it if I didn’t, would I?”
“Shit, I don’t know your life,” Yoongi said, leaning back. “That’s pretty new music. Most of our tapes are older stuff.”
Jimin’s lips puffed into a pout, his ears flicking backwards. “Shoot.”
The words left Yoongi’s mouth before he had a chance to think about what he was saying. “I could make it for you.”
Jimin looked at him, lips parting. “Huh?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said, glancing around to make sure Seokjin wasn’t in earshot. “Er, don’t tell my manager or anything. S’probably sort of illegal. And bad for sales or whatever.”
“Sort of?” Jimin laughed. “I won’t tell, hyung. But you don’t have to.”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi said, meaning it more than he wanted to. “I get it, some people gotta have that lo-fi.”
Jimin laughed again, sounding delighted. “You get me.” He smiled at Yoongi, all pink, plump cheeks, and Yoongi thought that might have been the moment he fell for him.
Yoongi refused to admit he was too shy to walk up to Jimin and just give him whatever tape he had expressed interest in a week or two before. After making at least 12 different ones, he should have developed some sort of pattern.
But no, he just sort of hung around the music section, unless Seokjin stuck him behind the café or worse, the register, and waited for Jimin to come up to him. After a minute of back and forth hellos and how’s uni Yoongi would say, as if he hadn’t been thinking about it from the moment his shift started, “oh yeah, I have this for you” and hand Jimin the cassette.
And it didn’t matter how lame he felt or actually was, Jimin’s eyes would light up every time and he’d smile so brightly at Yoongi that Yoongi had to avert his eyes.
When Jimin walked up to him that day, a couple weeks after the spilled cream incident (Namjoon had thrown a CD album at him when Yoongi labeled it as such, and Yoongi had not spoken to him for the rest of their shift), Yoongi was in the middle of wiping down the record player he’d put on display earlier in the week with a soft cloth. He’d be damned if there were any fingerprints smudging the wood laminate underneath the turn table. He got palpitations every time he saw someone come near it with a coffee cup, one time literally seeing album covers flash behind his eyes when some girl tripped next to it, her coffee fortunately spilling all over her shirt rather than the player.
“Hi Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin said from his right, voice soft and sweet as ever. Yoongi looked up at him, the golden glow on his cheek bones, the pink shine of his lips.
“Hi Jimin,” he said to the record player.
“Are you closing tonight?”
“Mm, leaving around six,” Yoongi said. “What about you? You got dance later, right?”
Jimin sounded happy when he answered. “Yeah, Jungkook is mad because Taehyung is gonna stay and flirt with Namjoon while we’re there.”
Yoongi chuckled. “Seokjin is gonna leave him to drown.”
“You should give Namjoon-hyung more credit,” Jimin said, nudging Yoongi’s side playfully. Yoongi shook his head, feeling his cheeks warm.
Jimin peered down at the player. “This looks scary.”
Yoongi looked at him again. “Do you know how to use it?”
Jimin looked a little sheepish. “If I say no, you’re going to judge me.”
“No,” Yoongi said. “I’m just embarrassed that as much as I talk about them and this fucking display, I never showed you how the player works.” He glanced behind them. “You wanna pick an album?”
Jimin lips curved. “Yeah.” He turned, moving over to the Ls and, after several seconds of rifling, pulled out Melodrama. Yoongi raised an eyebrow, but held out his hand. Jimin handed it over, an amused glint in his eye.
“You’re so judge-y.”
“This one is by far better than the first, which was fine, so no,” Yoongi said, realizing he sounded very up-yours, but Jimin was laughing, so he didn’t care. He shook his head, gestured for Jimin to come closer. “So, just take it out—it’s like a CD, right, you don’t want to get your hands all over the black part—” He held it out to Jimin, unable to stop himself from laughing when Jimin tried to mimic the spread of his hand, his small fingers coming several inches short of the edge of the vinyl disc.
“Fuck,” Jimin grumbled. Yoongi tried to reel in his grin, placing the vinyl on the platter.
“So, thing’s gotta be on, which it is,” Yoongi said, tapping the power switch. He pointed at the arm. “Then you take that—go ahead,” he said when Jimin looked at him and hesitated, his tail swinging behind him nervously
“I don’t want to break it,” Jimin said.
“One, you’re not Namjoon. Two, you’re not gonna break it,” Yoongi said, and without thinking about it, touched Jimin’s waist lightly with his fingers. “Just be gentle.”
Jimin licked his lips, glancing at Yoongi one more time before he twitched the arm up. The record began to spin.
“Whoa,” Jimin said, cat ears flicking forward as his eyes focused on the disc.
Yoongi smirked. “So just take the arm and really gently, put it down on the edge of the disc. You see that groove at the end, it’s shinier than the other part? Put it there.”
Jimin leaned closer, narrowing his eyes as he held the stylus over the spinning vinyl, before softly putting it in place. Immediately, vocals came out of the small speakers. Jimin looked delighted.
“That’s awesome,” he said, eyes trained on the player, the steady wobble of the rotating record.
“I’ve been saying,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. He shifted his weight, felt the hard plastic square in his pocket. “Oh, by the way, I have that tape for you—?” He pulled the cassette out of his pocket. Jimin looked around at him, straightening as he took the tape from Yoongi, eyes lighting up.
“Hyung, thanks so much,” he said, voice earnest.
“It’s nothing,” Yoongi said, as he always did.
Jimin did not do what he normally did, in that he wrapped his small fingers around Yoongi’s wrist and tilted his head at him. “When are you going to make me a mixtape?”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, marginally. Jimin was smiling at him, a twinkle, a fucking twinkle in his eye.
Yoongi reigned in his expression. “You want one?”
Jimin nodded. “I’d really love one.”
Yoongi scratched at a nonexistent itch on his nose. “Okay, yeah.”
He was seriously hopeless. Yoongi thought that about himself a little too often, but now, he really meant it. What was he doing, dancing around Jimin, being too afraid to go up to him and give him the two different mixtapes he’d already made, currently shoved in the back of his desk drawer? Not doing much, that’s what I’m fucking doing Yoongi thought to himself, feeling slightly miserable because he always did this, talked himself up into just fucking doing it, because since when did he give a fuck, and then Jimin would walk in the door, looking like an angel with his fluffy blonde ears and hair, and Yoongi was knocked flat on his ass all over again.
Maybe Baekhyun was right.
“Right about what?” Hoseok chirped.
Yoongi looked up from the cash he was counting. “What?”
Hoseok raised an eyebrow. “Baekhyun. What’s he right about?” Hoseok grabbed a couple more books from the cart next to him and stood up on his tiptoes, shoving them on the top shelf. “He’s the fox, right?”
“Silver fox,” Yoongi said, looking back down at the money and continuing to count. “Yeah.”
Hoseok brandished a book threateningly in Yoongi’s direction. “Hey, hey. Don’t avoid the question. What’s he right about?”
“Fuck,” Yoongi said. “Let me finish counting the money and I’ll tell you.”
“Fine, fine,” Hoseok said, grabbing more books and shuffling a few feet down the shelf. “Hey, are you closing shop tomorrow too?”
“I still have to count this shit, shut up for two seconds, yeah?”
Hoseok muttered something under his breath. They worked in relative quiet for the next few minutes, Yoongi sighing hugely when he finally finished counting. He wrote in the amount on the paper Seokjin had left for him, dropping the cash in the bag and taking it to the safe in the back room. When he returned, he grabbed some more books from the cart Hoseok was working off. “Baekhyun called me out on not making a move on Jimin. In front of Jimin.” Yoongi scowled. “Basically said I didn’t deserve him if I was too scared to talk to him.”
Hoseok snorted. “I’m not surprised?” He hummed thoughtfully, swinging around the end of the shelf with a book in hand and popping it into place. “It’s been months though, Yoongi. Surprised the kid is still single. He’s a fire cracker.”
Yoongi pursed his lips. “How do you know he’s single?”
Hoseok grinned. “Because I talk to him. Unlike you.”
Yoongi was offended. “I talk to him.”
“No, you make him tapes, coffee, and help him find stuff in the store. A third of that is part of your job description.”
Yoongi was tempted to hit Hoseok over the head with the book in his hands, just because. “You’re a fuckin’ liar. I do talk to him.”
Hoseok didn’t look impressed. “At least Namjoon has a reason to act like he’s never touched a dick before. Taehyung and Jungkook are kinda overwhelming.”
Yoongi was definitely offended now. “And Jimin isn’t?”
Hoseok grinned at him. “Uh-huh?”
Yoongi opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. “Have you seen him?” Yoongi gestured wildly in the general direction of his thighs, his face, then the top of his head, holding his hands in the general area of where his hybrid ears would be, if he had any. “Hoseok—fuck you,” he snapped when Hoseok started laughing.
“Whatever, Yoongi,” Hoseok said, still chuckling as he put the last book away. “I’m just saying. And apparently Baekhyun is too—make a fuckin’ move. It’s not like Jimin’s gonna bite you.” Hoseok grinned. “Maybe scratch a little. But you’d like that.”
Hoseok barely avoided the book Yoongi chucked in his direction.
Whenever Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi worked the shop together without incident, Yoongi considered the day a massive miracle.
There weren’t many of those.
There had been the ferret—which to be fair, hadn’t caused much issue, but Namjoon had nearly bitten through his fingernails in muted anxiety as he and Yoongi decided what they should do about it, while Hoseok made a small trail of muffin crumbs in an effort to see if the ferret would show interest. It hadn’t, and Yoongi had been stuck cleaning up the crushed crumbs when he closed that night. There had been the time Namjoon had knocked over their entire espresso machine and they’d had to close the café for four hours, three to reassemble it and one to figure out how to stop it from making an awful screeching grinding noise every time they went to make a cup. Then of course, there was the time Hoseok convinced Namjoon it would be a good idea to have a dance off with the customers on top of the café tables, and Yoongi had nearly broken his nose running to the back room after he saw Jimin drop so low and so fast on the table’s surface that he’d had trouble looking him in the eye without feeling uncomfortably hot under his collar for three weeks afterwards.
Then there was today.
There were two guys sitting at their usual table when the hybrids came in. It was late on a weekday, not more than an hour till they closed, so they were practically the only people in the shop. Jimin was leading the group of five with a wide grin on his face. He spotted Yoongi organizing the bookshelf at the end and he smiled a little wider, lifting his hand in a wave. Yoongi managed to nod back.
Baekhyun was close behind Jimin, and his eyes zeroed in on their table, looking outwardly annoyed that it was taken, thick black tail swishing once behind him. He tilted his head back, murmured something to Jongdae, who looked unimpressed as always. Bringing up the rear were Taehyung and Jungkook, who were giggling about who-knew-what to each other. They both looked towards the register though, chirping out a greeting to Namjoon, who was in the middle of handing a customer her change, the coins falling onto the counter instead of in her palm with a loud clatter.
Yoongi rolled his eyes back to the bookshelf, even though he really didn’t have room to judge. That wasn’t gonna stop him. Stupid fuckin’ idiot.
Jimin slid into the seat of a table next to their usual one, not seeming bothered in the slightest by the change. Baekhyun, on the other hand, glowered at the other table for another beat before settling next to him, ultimately turning his attention to Jongdae as the dark-haired cat hybrid plopped into the seat in front of him.
As Yoongi sidled over to the bookshelf a couple rows over, dragging the cart behind him, Taehyung made his way over to the records and Jungkook all but hopped over to Hoseok behind the café counter.
“Think he’s a good fuck?”
Yoongi’s back stiffened, his hand briefly pausing in the middle of pushing a book into place.
“Dunno. He is a rabbit.” There was some brief snickering. “Probably has lots of practice.”
What the fuck.
Yoongi shoved the book into place with a sharp thud, turning around to the shelf behind him, another book gripped tightly in his hands.
It was the two people who had taken the table, and they were sitting just a few feet away from where Yoongi stood. One was wearing a loosely fitted muscle shirt, the other a red baseball cap, and Yoongi had never quite harbored such a hatred for articles of clothing before in his life. They were both looking towards Jungkook chatting with Hoseok at the café counter, his tail twitching under his thin T-shirt. Yoongi felt a little bit like he was watching a horror movie as he watched both their gazes flick across the shop to where Taehyung was crouched by the wall, looking at the vinyl on the lower shelves.
“Bet he’s good at taking it on all fours,” muscle shirt said.
Yoongi and baseball cap opened their mouths at the time, but a soft voice beat them both to it.
“Clever. What were you gonna say next, that he likes it doggy style?”
Baekhyun had stood up without Yoongi even realizing it. He felt little bit like his vision was tunneling. He blinked, watching as Baekhyun plopped his ass down right onto the table, thick, white tipped tail swiping muscle shirt’s phone onto the floor.
“What the—” he griped as baseball cap scowled. “Can I fucking help you?”
His voice was scathing, but Baekhyun’s gaze matched his tone. Yoongi’s eyes shifted over a couple feet to where he’d come from. Jongdae’s back was facing the table where the two jerks sat, but his form was oddly frozen, ears sideways and nearly flat on his head. Jimin was leaning forward on the table, his eyes narrowed, his own ears forward and alert. Yoongi had never seen him look so serious before.
“This is our table,” Baekhyun said, his voice calm. He shifted to lean back more comfortably on his hands, kicking his slender legs forward onto the chair in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. “I wasn’t going to say anything before, but since you two can’t seem to shut your traps, I figured I’d return the favor.”
Muscle shirt snorted, grabbing his phone up from the ground. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Baekhyun’s eyes glinted. “I want you to fucking move. Now.”
Baseball cap and muscle shirt exchanged a glance. The former looked back towards Baekhyun and stood, a sneer on his face. “No way we’re moving for a thing like you.”
Jimin stood at that, moving so quickly his chair toppled over with a clatter. Jungkook and Hoseok looked up and around at the noise. On the other side of the shop, Yoongi saw Namjoon stop counting the money in the register, and Taehyung turned, a frown on his face. At this point, they were the only people in the shop.
Yoongi’s fingertips were white around the book in his hand.
Baekhyun looked unconcerned. “Well, I guess we can agree on one thing,” he said. “Because I’m not moving for a thing like you either.”
“Listen you fucking fox—” baseball cap snarled, reaching forward to grasp at the collar of Baekhyun’s shirt. A snarl twisted the corners of Baekhyun’s lips, but even as the guy’s fingers curled into Baekhyun’s collar, briefly jerking him forward, Yoongi’s hand wrapped around his wrist with a sharp slap.
Baseball cap looked shocked, whirling around to see who had touched him. He stared at Yoongi for a second, taking him in, and then he snickered, glancing at muscle shirt, who was standing now as well.
“Who’re you?” baseball cap sneered.
“I work here,” Yoongi said, his voice raspy in his anger. “And I’m asking you to get the fuck out. I’m not gonna ask again.” He yanked the guy’s wrist away from Baekhyun before he released him and stepped back.
Baseball cap stepped right the fuck forward, crowding into Yoongi’s personal space. “Yeah, huh? What you gonna do if I don’t?”
“He can’t do shit,” muscle shirt goaded, his voice close behind Yoongi now. “What, you didn’t like how we were talkin’ about your pets?” Yoongi turned his head a smidge to look at him, took in the smug smirk on his face. Muscle shirt nodded at baseball cap, jerking his chin towards Baekhyun. “The fox'll move if you grab it by the tail. Also,” he said, eyes flicking back to Yoongi. “We’ll leave when we want to, thanks, then you can get back to whatever you were doing. Likely fucking them like the animals t—”
Yoongi’s fist was on his jaw before he had a chance to finish his already too-long sentence. Yoongi could hear his knuckles cracking, but didn’t really feel much outside pure satisfaction at the look of shock that crossed muscle shirt’s face, quickly followed by pain as blood burst from his split lip. He was still careening backwards and onto the ground when there was an explosion of pain on his right temple. He staggered, ducking another punch from baseball cap even as he saw spots. Distantly, he heard someone snarl, more noise and the muffled sound of a body hitting the ground. Pounding feet, cool hands on either side of his face.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ sue your ass!” someone was yelling. Yoongi blinked away the spots, couldn’t find it in himself to care very much about what the guy was saying when his blurry vision slowly cleared to reveal wide, anxious eyes. He registered cool metal touching his cheeks.
“Yoongi, are you okay?” Jimin breathed, fingers skimming anxiously over his temple, eyes flashing when Yoongi hissed.
“You fuck—” Yoongi’s gaze flickered over to see the one yelling now was baseball cap, said hat askew on his head. “Gonna fuckin’ break your legs, you and your fucking cat, gonna call the fucking police—”
“No, you’re not.”
Yoongi looked up, reaching to intertwine his fingers with Jimin’s without thinking, pulling the younger boy back a little so he stood behind him, ready to knock someone’s teeth out.
Namjoon had been the one to speak, looked out of breath probably from running over from the cash register at the front, but his voice was steady and hard, hard enough to make everyone freeze, allowing Yoongi a second to fully take in the scene in front of him.
Baekhyun was still on the table, but it looked like he’d tried to get off, in fact, still looked like he was trying, something livid and wild in his expression, but Jongdae was standing now and gripping Baekhyun’s arm, his eyes hard and ears flat on his head. He looked a little bit like he was vibrating.
Taehyung and Jungkook were there too, Jungkook’s already wide eyes large in his face, both ears lopped down on either side of his head. His hand gripped Taehyung’s, who had a dark, flat expression on his face, something Yoongi hadn’t thought was possible till now. Hoseok was standing on the wrong side of the café counter, looking like he’d stopped mid-step at Namjoon’s voice.
“Oh yeah?” muscle shirt said. His teeth were stained with blood. “Your employee punched me, unprovoked—”
“And this worthless piece of shit animal scratched me,” baseball cap cut in, pointing at two red, swollen vertical lines running down his jaw before directing his finger at Jimin.
“Put your fucking fingers down before I—” Yoongi seethed, but Namjoon cut him off.
“Call the police,” he said, his voice cold. “I’ll be very, very happy to explain to them how you and your friend here verbally and physically harassed our customers.” Namjoon nodded at Jimin, who Yoongi realized with a start, also had a split lip, something he quickly licked and wiped at when he realized Yoongi was looking.
“Your employee punched—” muscle shirt began, seething and spitting, but Namjoon stepped close to him, his tall frame towering over the other.
“You called Baekhyun-hyung a thing—” Taehyung broke in, his voice a shocking, deep growl, but Jungkook squeezed his arm and shook his head. Taehyung stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide and focused.
“You talk about fucking them like animals, and say you’ll sue me?” Namjoon said, his voice cracking like a whip. “As far as I’m concerned, my employee acted in defense. And as far as anyone in this fucking store is concerned, that’s what happened.” Namjoon stepped back, shot baseball cap a cold look. “But by all means, sue. We’ll be happy to explain how you touched a hybrid unprovoked.”
Muscle shirt and baseball cap looked furious, but they stayed silent, jaws tight, breathing heavy.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” muscle shirt finally said.
"Why don't you put your pet on a leash?" baseball cap sneered as they both swept violently past Yoongi, who pulled Jimin closer to him, could feel the cat hybrid’s nose pressed against his shoulder, his breathing quick. They all watched in tense silence as the pair stomped out of the front door, taking care to shove it shut with a loud slam.
Hoseok was there in a moment, flipping the open sign to closed and locking the door with a resounding click before turning around to look at everyone else.
They all just stared at each other in silence for several seconds before Hoseok said, “You guys up for barbecue?”
There was a place only a few blocks away, which was definitely a nice thing about living in the city. Never had to go too far to satisfy a craving, whether that was a niche coffee shop that sold books and vinyl or an all-you-can-eat barbecue.
Hoseok was in the lead, talking on his phone to who suspiciously sounded like Seokjin. Yoongi could hear Hoseok hiss, “Yeah, everyone’s okay, seriously—but you shoulda seen Yoongi swing—!” Baekhyun and Jongdae walked just behind him, Baekhyun calling out helpful highlights, his arm wrapped around the cat hybrid’s waist, Jongdae’s arm around his shoulder.
Jungkook, Taehyung, and Namjoon trailed several steps after them. Yoongi was dimly surprised, not at the sight of Jungkook and Taehyung holding hands, but at how Namjoon’s hand was gently resting on Jungkook’s waist. The younger tilted his head to say something to Namjoon, who shook his head before he responded, his voice a low mumble that didn’t quite carry over to where Yoongi and Jimin brought up the rear.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin said, his fingers wrapping around Yoongi’s wrist, gently. Yoongi felt a painful twinge in his knuckles. Jimin’s blonde ears twitched. “Are you sure it’s not broken?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said. Jimin looked unconvinced, his full lower lip pushing out in a pout that was particularly red and swollen due to the split in it—’cause someone tried to punch him. The thought still made Yoongi’s insides boil.
Almost as if to prove to Jimin it was fine, he lifted the aching hand and, moving slowly, skimmed his fingers over Jimin’s jaw, chin, finally coming to rest on his lower lip. He could feel Jimin’s breath catch, warm on his fingertips. “What about you? Honestly, I could kill that guy. You’re still bleeding.”
Before leaving the shop, they had attempted to make themselves halfway presentable. Jongdae and Baekhyun had pulled Jimin and Yoongi into the bathroom to clean up while Hoseok sped through the closing tasks and Namjoon stayed with Taehyung and Jungkook.
Baekhyun had immediately wet a flimsy paper towel with warm water and gone to gently dabbing at Jimin’s lip. Yoongi stuck his own hand under the faucet. The knuckles were red, two actually split from scraping muscle shirt’s teeth. As the warm water washed away the drying blood, Jongdae ran light fingers over his temple where baseball cap’s fist had hit.
Yoongi and Jimin kept making and breaking eye contact in the mirror for the first couple minutes. Baekhyun was the first person to speak, and it surprised Yoongi.
“Thanks for punching that asshole,” he said, softly shushing Jimin when the cat hybrid flinched at a pat.
“Hyung, are you okay?” Jimin said, before Yoongi had a chance to respond to Baekhyun.
“I’m fine Jimin, are you okay? That dude fuckin hit you, yeah?”
“It was nothing,” Jimin said, his voice irritated, but Yoongi knew the feeling was not directed at him. “Seriously.”
Yoongi paused. “Did you really scratch him?”
Jongdae’s laugh was sudden and rich in Yoongi’s ear. “Shithead wasn’t even finished swinging. Jimin was running over the second you punched his friend, and the guy nicked him but—” Jongdae chucked. “He’s gonna have those marks on his face for days, Jiminie. Nice work.”
Jimin rolled his eyes, but Yoongi could tell he was a little pleased with himself. Yoongi absolutely hated the sight of the blood coming off on the cheap paper towel in Baekhyun’s hands, but he felt a small twinge of pride too. He hoped that guy scarred and regretted not breaking the other one’s nose.
“Yeah, kitten, this should heal in a couple days,” Baekhyun cooed, giving Jimin’s lip one final pat. He looked over at Jongdae and Yoongi. “What’s the verdict?”
“Skin didn’t split, but you’re probably gonna bruise,” Jongdae said, fingers leaving his throbbing temple. “How’s your hand?”
Yoongi tsked, pressing a dry paper towel to the small wounds and wincing. “Uh. Who knows. I’m hungry though,” he said, catching Jimin’s frowning face. “Let’s go, right?”
Jimin brought him back to the present with a shock in the form of his lips puckering around the tips of Yoongi’s fingers in a quick, soft kiss. “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s not bleeding, you’re exaggerating.”
Yoongi swallowed, trying to find his breath. “I coulda taken them both, y’know? You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
Jimin’s smile was bright. “I know that, hyung. But I didn’t really think about it. Saw the other guy coming for you and I just thought, no way.”
Yoongi exhaled around a laugh, and, before he could talk himself out of it, reached with his injured hand to ruffle Jimin’s hair, fingers pressing against the base of Jimin’s cat ears, feeling a throb in his chest when Jimin’s eyes shut and he leaned into the touch. He let his hand drop, felt another pulse in his chest when Jimin, without hesitation, reached out and intertwined their fingers, his movements gentle.
“Thanks,” he said. He smiled at Yoongi. “It means a lot, you know. Defending us.” His eyes glinted, and he leaned close to whisper in Yoongi’s ear. “I’ve also never seen Namjoon look so cool. Tae and Kookie are probably freaking out.” He laughed, the sound carefree and happy. Yoongi’s grip around Jimin’s fingers tightened, a sharp pain shooting up his arm, but he paid it no mind. Thought about the way those two guys had talked about him, Jimin and his friends—who were also Yoongi’s friends. He knew Jimin could take care of himself, but Yoongi would happily defend him from all of that shit, not let anyone else touch him, say a fuckin’ word against or about him. Not ever again. Jimin deserved better than all of that, deserved nothing but the bright happiness he showered on other people, and Yoongi had a fierce urge to make sure he got it.
They had been sitting inside for barely ten minutes when Seokjin arrived at their table in a flurry of loud exclamations of worry from his end and surprise from everyone else.
“Jin, I thought you were on a date—?” Namjoon started, throwing Hoseok an accusatory look.
“I told him everything was fine, the shop is fine—” Hoseok started.
“Fuck the shop!” Seokjin exclaimed, swooping down over the table and stretching right past Yoongi to cup Jungkook’s face. “Jungkook, bun—are you okay?”
Jungkook’s eyes, already wide, went wider, but he grinned a little sheepishly as he lifted his hands to settle over Seokjin’s. “Hyung,” he said, patting the back of Jin’s hands. “I’m fine. Fine.”
Taehyung rested his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “It’s okay, hyung. Jimin’s the one that got punched in the face.”
Yoongi was impressed Seokjin didn’t collapse, instead sliding backwards and, bypassing Yoongi again, zeroing in on Jimin sitting on Yoongi’s other side. “Jim—” Seokjin sucked in a breath at the cut on Jimin’s lip, then, finally, his gaze landed on Yoongi. “What the fuck happened? Jesus, look at your knuckles, Yoongi.”
“Seokjin,” Namjoon said, speaking loudly over the din. “Sit down. Please? We’ll explain. I only got the last half of it anyway, so,” Namjoon said, looking at Yoongi pointedly.
Yoongi pursed his lips, actually making eye contact with Baekhyun across the table. Seokjin sat down with sigh, his expression almost weak as he looked between Jimin and Yoongi’s injuries.
“There’s not much to tell,” Yoongi said, glancing at Jungkook, who seemed fine, but both his ears were still lopped and he had a weird grimace on his face. “These two shits at the shop were giving Baekhyun trouble. So I punched them.”
“So you—?” Seokjin shook his head, looked at Baekhyun. “Trouble, what kind of trouble? You’re all okay, right?”
“Yes, hyung,” Jimin said. “We’re all fine. They were being total assholes, making derogatory comments.” He and Taehyung both looked at each other, eyes dark. “Nothing we haven’t heard before.”
“That’s bullshit,” Yoongi said, his voice loud.
Their waitress had arrived. She cleared her throat. “Um. What can I get you?”
Jimin snorted, then just smiled at Baekhyun across the table. The fox hybrid smiled back before he leaned over to nudge Seokjin. “We’re all fine and all, but, this is on you, right?”
Everyone sitting around the table laughed while Seokjin groaned, leaning forward to look down at the menu Baekhyun held out in front of him.
Baekhyun and Jimin helped tell the rest of the story, not focusing on the details. Seokjin, more than anything, seemed relieved that they were all uninjured, the fact that no one was suing a definite bonus. They were quick to talk about something else, conversation coming relatively easily.
Yoongi didn’t know why he was so surprised that they all got along so well. Baekhyun and Jongdae were noticeably warmer, although the former was still cocky and the latter aloof in true feline fashion, it was no worse than Seokjin on a good day. Taehyung was pressed against Namjoon’s side, one elbow resting on the table so he could prop his chin up and look up at him, their voices a low mumble. Namjoon looked a little flushed, and kept taking sips of water, but Taehyung had an endearing glint in his eyes. His other hand was on Jungkook’s thigh under the table. Throughout the dinner and the ongoing chatter, his one ear slowly rose until it was in its normal upright position.
Jimin, more than anyone, kept up conversation easily. He was so…happy, eyes crinkling prettily when he smiled, his shoulder warm against Yoongi’s, laughter bright and contagious. Yoongi caught himself grinning widely more than a few times and ignored smug, knowing looks from both Baekhyun and Seokjin.
They were halfway through their food, meat on their plates and the remainder cooking in the center grill in front of them, when Yoongi felt something warm and soft slide across his back before pressing against his bare arm. He nearly dropped his chopsticks, glancing down to see the end of Jimin’s cat tail flicking over his arm.
He looked away quickly. Jimin was focused on his plate, lips closing around a slice of marinated beef. His eyes darted up to meet Yoongi’s though, at the older boy’s movement. He raised an eyebrow, and Yoongi felt his tail press more firmly against his skin. Realization flickered in Jimin’s eyes, and he quickly swallowed what was in his mouth.
“Oh,” he said, and smiled, almost looking shy, but he didn’t move to pull it back. “Sorry, hyung do…do you mind?”
Yoongi’s felt his cheeks go warm. “No, Jiminie.”
Jimin’s smile intensified, and he leaned closer against Yoongi, tail eventually relaxing and curling around Yoongi’s hip instead, but he found it didn’t matter. Jimin felt nice, period.
By the time the check came around, Yoongi, Baekhyun, and Namjoon all ended up chipping in a little for the bill, although Seojkin vehemently refused up until the bemused waitress came by and whisked it all away.
“You guys going back to…?” Yoongi said, turning a little towards Jimin.
“We live on campus,” Jimin said with a small nod towards Taehyung and Jungkook.
“You’re roommates, right?”
Jimin nodded. “And Jongdae and Baekhyun live together in an apartment not far from uni.” He fiddled with the napkin in his lap. “What about you?”
“Oh, it’s about a two-minute drive from the shop, five minutes to walk and like, ten, fifteen minute walk from campus?” Yoongi said. “I rent with Namjoon and Hoseok. Seokjin lives alone, in a studio.” He fiddled with his chopsticks. “Jimin, hey—”
“You guys ready?” Baekhyun said. He tapped Jin and Jongdae playfully on the head. “This was fun. You should let jerks into your shop more often.”
“Or we could just, you know, hang out,” Hoseok pointed out.
“Innovative idea,” Baekhyun said with a grin.
Yoongi quickly pretended he didn’t have any more to say, but Jimin’s eyes stayed on him until they walked out of the restaurant and paused on the sidewalk to say goodbye. The university was the opposite direction from where Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon lived. Yoongi spotted Taehyung lean forward to whisper something in Namjoon’s ear, pulling back with a smile, his arm tight around Jungkook’s waist.
“Bye Yoongi,” Baekhyun said, surprising Yoongi when he hugged him. He pulled back, tilted his head to the side. “Seriously, thanks. Maybe you’re not totally hopeless.” He turned around, waving over his shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Bye Baekhyun,” Yoongi said, his voice dry.
“That’s hyung to you, you know,” Jongdae said. He glanced from Jimin to Yoongi and actually winked at Yoongi before turning away.
Jimin hovered, letting his friends put some distance between them. His tail swished behind him, bumping against his back. “Ah, bye hyung? I had—” Jimin paused and seemed to laugh at himself. “I’ll see you soon, I guess.”
He was turning around when Yoongi almost jumped forward, hand curling around Jimin’s arm. He bit his lip, released. “Jimin,” he said. “Can I—have your phone?”
Jimin blinked, eyebrows going up in surprise, but then he smiled, reaching into his back pocket and taking out his phone. Silently, he unlocked it and handed it to Yoongi.
Right, he had an Android. Yoongi huffed, frowning down at the screen, then up at Jimin, who was watching him, face expectant.
“How do you add a contact?” he asked, voice almost a grumble.
Jimin’s cheeks swelled with his grin, and he stepped forward, close enough that his body was pressing against Yoongi’s. He tapped a button the top of the screen and a screen of numbers came up. Quickly, Yoongi typed in his phone number.
“That’s my number,” Yoongi said, feeling like a fucking nerd. Jimin was still smiling, as he reached forward to press the dial button. A second later, Yoongi’s felt his iPhone vibrating in his own pocket.
“And that’s my number,” Jimin said, voice sweet. He tucked his phone back into his jeans and stepped back, eyes bright. “Text me.”
He might have stood there and watched Jimin walk off until he was out of sight, but Hoseok grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away before he could get the chance.
Yoongi had off the next day, which was a good thing, because he spent almost two hours opening up his contacts and looking at Jimin’s phone number then closing out the screen only to do it all over again before he was actually able to fall asleep. He woke up with the phone still in his hand, still empty of messages.
Grimacing, Yoongi sat up, sliding the phone into the pocket of his sweatpants and making a face at the ugly purple and red coloring of his knuckles. He stood, glanced around the covers of his bed before he bent down, scooping up the fallen bag of once frozen peas he’d been using as a makeshift icepack the night before. When he walked into the kitchen, Hoseok was finishing up a bowl of cereal, dressed for the shop in his black work polo.
“Time is it?” Yoongi muttered, tossing the peas back into the freezer.
“Almost one,” Hoseok said around a mouthful. “I’m going in to close. Namjoon’s already been there a couple hours, but he—”
“Said he might work a double, yeah,” Yoongi said, rolling his head back and groaning when his neck cracked. “Shit.”
Hoseok gave him a pointed look. “Did you text Jimin?”
Yoongi made a face. “Huh? Shut up. You’re gonna be late.”
Hoseok’s expression was judgmental. He finished his breakfast and cleaned his dish in silence, stopping at the doorway to say, “Text him.”
“Bye,” Yoongi said, waving him out the door.
He waited for a couple minutes in the silence that followed Hoseok shutting the front door. Then he pulled out his phone.
did we really each other at the exact same time
omg we texted hi at the same time
Jimin was laughing when he answered the phone to Yoongi’s greeting. “Fuck this texting shit.”
“Hyung,” Jimin giggled, and his voice was almost softer, more high-pitched, over the telephone. It was cute. “We said hi at the same time. It’s kinda sweet.”
“Fuck,” Yoongi said, and wanted to die a little when Jimin giggled again. “You wanna hang out?”
Jimin made a soft sound of surprise. “What, today?”
“I’m not working. So, yeah.” Yoongi wondered if he was being too forward. Then remembered he’d literally been seeing Jimin at least three times a week for the last four (maybe five) months. “You don’t have to come here, we can go—”
“Oh, can I?” Jimin exclaimed. “Can I come over? I want to see your place, you’ve probably got so much music shit.”
Yoongi laughed before he could help himself. “Music shit? All right.”
“Sorry, is that offensive?” Jimin said, his voice teasing. “Give me like, an hour. I’ll walk over there.”
“No, I can pick you up,” Yoongi said.
Jimin sounded surprised again. “You have a car, hyung?”
Yoongi paused. “Just don’t tell Namjoon. It’s supposed to be for emergencies.” In Yoongi’s opinion, this was an emergency situation.
“In that case,” Jimin said, a smile in his voice. “Give me twenty minutes.”
When Yoongi hung up, his phone vibrated and he stared dumbly down at the message from Jimin, a compilation of a bunch of stupid excited smiley face emojis, and realized with a start that he was supposed to be picking up Jimin in twenty minutes and he was still in his pajamas.
Glad he was a generally neat, if not slightly cluttered person, it took Yoongi five minutes of nonstop movement, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, to get everything looking presentable. He had an entire wall dedicated to his music, primarily vinyl but a decent amount of cassettes and an embarrassing amount of CDs. He cast it a cursory glance before looking at himself in the mirror, giving his bright, but decidedly fading blue hair a cursory glance of its own, running his fingers through it and pursing his lips.
He brushed it a couple times before throwing on an old, ripped pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, plain save for some red text wrapping around the edge of his right sleeve. He was only running a few minutes late when he jumped into their shared Corolla and flipped on the stereo. He nearly hit a bush in his haste backing out and took a deep, steadying breath before shifting the car into drive. Easy.
He tried to focus on the music more than his restless thoughts, running his tongue over the front of his teeth as he neared the dorms where Jimin said he lived.
I’m basically here
Okay!! I’ll be out in a sec
He drove up and down the parking lot a few times and was coming back around a loop when he had to consciously not slam on his breaks at the sight of Jimin hurrying down the path from the dorm building towards the lot.
Yoongi slowed the car to a stop, taking in Jimin’s outfit, in particular the black choker around his neck. Of all that was holy and fair in the world, in the universe—
Jimin waved as he came around the front of the car, the sweater he was wearing too ripped up and threadbare to be of much real use, hem stopping somewhere around his thighs, clad in black leggings.
“Hi Yoongi-hyung!” Jimin chirped, sliding into the passenger seat smelling faintly of lavender again, his ears forward and alert. He leaned forward over the console, smiling at Yoongi as he took his chin in his fingers and tilted his head to look at the side of his face that had been punched. “I was really happy you texted. Wow, hyung, this is a serious bruise.”
Yoongi felt a little like he was losing his sanity, unable to tear his eyes away from the black stripe across Jimin’s neck. He looked for long enough that something shifted in Jimin’s eyes as he leaned back, his smile more of a smirk. “Taehyung said I should wear the choker. Is it too much?”
“Fuck, no,” Yoongi said, then flushed, horrified that Jimin had directly called him out. “I mean, you look—nice.” He shrugged as Jimin pulled his hand away from his temple. “I bruise easy.”
Jimin made a face at Yoongi’s swollen knuckles when he propped up his hands on the wheel and found a grip as he turned out of the lot. “Ah,” he said, sounding a little less happy. “That looks painful.”
Yoongi took note of Jimin’s lower lip and the fact that it was still dinged up from the night before. “It’s fine, Jimin,” he said, his voice kind.
Jimin leaned back, pursing his lips. “We should ice it, when we get to your place.”
“I already did, it's really fine,” Yoongi said with a small laugh.
They sat in silence for a couple minutes. Yoongi glanced at him, the cut on his lip. “Shit like that doesn’t happen a lot, does it?” he said, thinking of Jimin’s comment at the restaurant. Nothing we haven’t heard before.
“Hm?” Jimin said, blinking at him. One pointed ear flicked sideways. “Oh, I mean, now and then?” He didn’t sound concerned. “It’s mostly just stupid comments. And I can handle it when it’s about me, but not someone else. Especially Taehyung and Jungkook?” He tsked, shook his head. “Fuck those guys.”
Yoongi agreed wholeheartedly. “I’m probably lucky they didn’t actually sue me,” he said, after another minute of quiet.
Jimin crossed his arms. “They’re lucky I didn’t scratch them blind.”
Yoongi glanced at Jimin’s fingers. His nails were filed to slight points, but they looked normal overall, if not a little on the longer side. He was pretty confident the counterpart animal nails didn’t usually cross over to hybrids, but, there were small abnormalities, like Baekhyun and his eyes. “Are your nails—?” he started.
Jimin caught on quick.
“No, normal nails,” he said, amused. He wiggled his fingers, some of his rings clinking against each other with the movement. “Just lots of vitamins and meticulous attention from Baekhyun.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Baekhyun does your nails? Does he paint them, too?”
Jimin stuck out his tongue. “Are you judging me?”
“No, just him,” Yoongi said, and hid his smile when Jimin playfully smacked him on the shoulder.
In his peripheral, he could see Jimin prop his arm against the window and lean against it, his face tilted towards Yoongi. It looked like he was smiling, but Yoongi kept his eyes straight ahead of them, hoping the warmth in his cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
“I like seeing you out of your work clothes,” Jimin said, and Yoongi’s hopes were shot.
“We’re here,” he said after a few more minutes, licking his lips as he cut the engine. Jimin bounced a little in his seat, leaning forward to take in the small, slightly run-down, home.
“You live in a house, hyung?” Jimin exclaimed, hooking his fingers in the door handle and yanking it open. He half stumbled out, his tail twisting wildly behind him as he balanced himself and straightened.
Yoongi shut his car door with a soft snap, tapping on the metal frame as he looked at Jimin, who turned his grin on Yoongi.
“Um, yeah,” Yoongi said, looking at the house instead, the peeling paint around the windows. “It’s nothing crazy. Rent is cheap. There’s only two bathrooms, but I got the master, and it’s got a bathtub so…” he trailed off before he could really start rambling. “Wanna come in?”
“Nah,” Jimin said, even as he skipped towards the front door. “I wanna hear you talk about your bathroom situation more.”
“I officially hate myself,” Yoongi said conversationally as he joined Jimin at the entryway and put his key in the door. He inhaled when Jimin propped his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder, happy he’d already inserted the key as he definitely would have dropped it otherwise.
“Good thing I like you enough for both of us,” Jimin said, his breath warm against Yoongi’s neck.
Yoongi jerked the door open a little more roughly than he probably needed to, clearing his throat as he stepped inside. Jimin was close behind him, looking around at the living room with wide, curious eyes. There was the couch, big enough to comfortably sit four people, one arm leaking stuffing, directly across from a coffee table they’d bought from a garage sale, where the TV sat, leaning up against the wall because they had bought it without a stand. Behind that was the table they ate at, a book shoved under one of the legs to make it stand even, and just behind that, the kitchen.
Jimin looked around, eyes alighting on the door immediately to the left of Yoongi, a few feet from the front door. “What’s in there?”
“Namjoon’s room,” Yoongi said.
“Is he home?” Jimin asked, already walking down the hallway, peering into the bathroom that separated Hoseok’s room from Namjoon’s.
“No, he’s at the shop,” Yoongi said.
Jimin pointed at Hoseok’s door. “Hoseok-hyung, too?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said.
Jimin’s expression turned a little devious. “So we have the place to ourselves?”
Yoongi opened his mouth, closed it. Licked his lips and tried again. “Yup.”
Jimin smiled at Yoongi, his nose scrunching cutely. He darted forward and took Yoongi’s uninjured hand in his. “C’mon hyung. Show me your room.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes even as he tightened his fingers around Jimin’s. “You're impatient, y’know?”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. He stepped close, leaning his body almost completely against Yoongi’s. “Hm? I think I’ve been really patient, hyung.”
Yoongi flushed as he pushed open the door to his room, gesturing rather anticlimactically inside. “Yeah, well. Here.”
Jimin nearly dragged Yoongi in behind him, acting nothing short of a kid inside a candy shop. He made a small, happy sound, taking two large steps towards Yoongi’s music wall before he stopped short and just stared, cat ears flicking forwards and backwards for an endless minute. His tail was swishing behind him, steady and strong, lifting the back of his sweater just enough that Yoongi caught a glimpse of the smooth, muscled skin of his back
Jimin turned and Yoongi jerked his gaze up. “Hyung, you’ve got like, your own music store in here, you know that?”
Yoongi gestured at the wall, unsure what to say. “Well. I like music.”
Jimin grinned, turning back and stepping forward, zeroing in on the record player sitting on a fold out tray. Not the sexiest home, but the player itself had cost Yoongi almost $500, so he had to cut corners somewhere.
“What are you listening to?” Jimin said, already working to get the vinyl spinning, using gentle fingers to move the arm into place.
He looked overjoyed when the soft guitar notes began to play. “You’re listening to The Beatles?” Jimin laughed, ducking to pull out the album from behind the fold out table. “Seems a little mainstream for you, Yoongi-hyung.”
“Um,” Yoongi said, walking forward and tapping on Paul McCartney’s bare foot. “This is a classic. You can wash your mouth now. Bathroom’s right there.”
Jimin grinned, gently taking the album from Yoongi and putting it back in place. “Only teasing, hyung,” he trilled, turning back towards the wall to continue looking.
It was an image that made Yoongi’s heart leap to his throat, Jimin, ears flicking back and forward almost lazily now as he perused Yoongi’s collection of tapes, his eyes intent and focused as he scanned the titles, pulled out a couple that piqued his interest, the song playing in the background blanketing everything almost too perfectly, even for Jimin.
“Do you make these little covers for the cassettes yourself?” Jimin said, holding out Ghost In The Machine.
Yoongi nodded, trying to figure out if he should sit on his bed or not. He ended up just shifting from foot to foot. “Don’t tell Seokjin I use the color printer at the shop. He’d fire me.”
Jimin grinned, pushing the tape back into its proper place, sliding his fingers across the plastic until another caught his eye. “He wouldn’t.”
“You sound confident,” Yoongi said, trying not to smile as Jimin peered down at Rumours, popping the cassette out of the cover, looking fascinated. It was cute, considering the fact that Yoongi knew Jimin was familiar with cassette tapes, so there wasn’t really a reason behind his fascination other than pure curiosity.
“Well, if he fired you, I would stop going there,” Jimin said without missing a beat. He glanced up at Yoongi and smiled, putting the tape back and straightening. He glanced over Yoongi’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow before sweeping past him, his steps purposeful.
“This the bathroom I’ve been hearing so much about?” Jimin said, glancing around a little dramatically.
Yoongi leaned against the doorway behind him, ready to make a smart comment back (like seriously, was he about to inspect his bathroom?) but his words died in his throat as he caught Jimin’s reflection in the vanity mirror.
He had a small smile on his face as he looked around, right cat ear cocked back in Yoongi’s direction, the other facing forward. There was a muted, pearly glow across his cheek bones, the bow of his lips. The black choker was a stark line around his neck, the rips and tears in the sweater shifting around over the skin of his upper body with every small movement in a way that made Yoongi’s mouth dry and his fingertips tingle. One of his hands was absentmindedly playing with the end of his pale, blonde tail.
“You’re so fucking pretty.”
Jimin’s eyes widened in his reflection before they shifted to meet Yoongi’s over his shoulder. Yoongi’s knee jerk reaction was to duck his head or glance away, but he stayed as he was, still leaning against the door, eyes on Jimin in the mirror, and in doing so, got to see the small pink flush that spread across Jimin’s cheeks, gradually creeping down under the black line of his choker.
Jimin was the first one to break eye contact, ducking his head down, fingers quickly releasing his tail and finding purchase in the ends of his sweater. His lips parted, and then he turned, striding forward in two quick, large steps so he stood across from Yoongi in the doorway.
“Really?” he said, and Yoongi had been expecting a few things, but not that.
He frowned, shifting so he could face Jimin. “Uh, yeah? Jimin,” he said, leaning forward and looking at the other boy intently. “You’re…” he felt his nerve fail him, but Jimin was looking at him just as intently, blonde ears facing forward. Yoongi let out a soft, frustrated exhale, briefly fighting and ultimately giving into the urge to reach up and run his fingers through Jimin’s hair, fingertips lingering at said ears and gently rubbing.
Jimin’s lips parted, his eyelids fluttering as he pressed into the touch.
“You’re really beautiful,” Yoongi said quietly, sliding his fingers down out of Jimin’s hair to cup his cheek.
Jimin’s gaze focused again, and it was Yoongi’s turn to blush as they just looked at each other, seconds drawing out into a minute. When Jimin shifted, forward, Yoongi was sharply reminded that they were standing in the doorway of his fucking bathroom.
He jumped back, Jimin’s head whipping around to follow his movements, something almost predatory in his gaze, his tail flicking against the wall.
“Jimin,” Yoongi said, biting his lip as Jimin stepped away from the doorway and followed him. Yoongi took another step back, feeling his heart jump in his chest. He wasn’t scared, even as he took another step back. Scared wasn’t the right word, nervous wasn’t even the right word, even though there was definitely a little bit of that going on. No.
He was excited.
Jimin continued to step forward, a small smile now playing at the corners of his lips. Yoongi felt the backs of his legs hit the edge of his bed and he stopped, standing still as Jimin slowly closed the distance between him. He stopped with his toes practically brushing Yoongi’s, tail flicking behind him.
“Jimin,” Yoongi tried again, but his voice came out quieter, huskier.
Jimin shook his head and leaned forward, hesitating when his mouth was just a breath away. His eyes flicked up to Yoongi’s, almost like he was asking permission.
Yoongi closed the distance, unable to stop the small sound choking in the back of his throat as he brought his hand up to slide through the soft hair at the back of Jimin’s head as their lips finally pressed together. He wasn’t sure whether his grip was keeping Jimin or himself in place. He felt lightheaded, and a little fumbling as Jimin’s mouth moved and slid over his, almost like he’d never kissed someone before. His fingers tightened in Jimin’s hair, ignoring the shock of pain this brought on in his bruised knuckles. The younger boy swallowed his gasp, settling his small fingers on Yoongi’s waist, pushing up the material of his shirt so his palms could press against the bare skin of Yoongi’s waist.
“Jimin,” Yoongi mumbled, and he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say anymore, but his name felt nice on his tongue.
Jimin seemed to agree, or at least understand, because he made a small, soft sound of his own, one that developed into a low sort of rumbling that seemed to be coming from deep in his chest.
Holy shit he’s purring.
The realization made Yoongi’s knees weak, so he couldn’t be sure if Jimin pushed him or he simply fell back onto the bed. Their hands had switched, Yoongi now clasping Jimin around the waist and Jimin making a mess of his hair as he shoved his fingers through it, his kisses becoming a little more insistent, a little more needy. Jimin inhaled sharply, and they broke apart, Yoongi’s eyes immediately alighting on the red split down the middle of Jimin’s lower lip.
“Fuck,” Yoongi whispered, breathing in Jimin’s shivering exhale as they took a moment to just look at each other, eyes alert and searching. Yoongi leaned closer, keeping his eyes on Jimin’s for as long as was possible before he gently, gently, kissed his lower lip, flicking his tongue over the red line.
Jimin breathed in sharply again, fingers twitching in Yoongi’s hair before gripping more tightly, and then he was surging forward again, the intensity behind his kisses making Yoongi dizzy. He groaned when Jimin’s tongue traced over his lips, and he opened his mouth wider to let him in.
The vibrating in Jimin’s chest intensified as he slid his tongue over the hybrid’s. He pushed the stupid fucking sweater full of holes out of the way, sighing into Jimin’s mouth when he felt the warm, supple skin against his hands. Jimin shifted so he was fully straddling him, not once lifting his mouth from Yoongi’s, letting out a soft, pleased sound when Yoongi slid his hands further back along his waist.
“I like you so much,” Jimin mumbled, kissing Yoongi hard before shifting his head so he could brush his nose over the line of Yoongi’s jaw.
Yoongi took the opportunity to try and catch his breath, his hands gripping tighter on Jimin. “Why?” he said, his voice low and gruff.
Jimin looked up, and not for the first time, the sight of him knocked the breath out of Yoongi’s lungs. He had his knees on either side of Yoongi’s waist, his back was arched, tail swaying in the air over them, his eyes bright and incredulous at Yoongi’s question. One pointed ear twitched.
“Yoongi,” Jimin said, and Yoongi thought he was going to choke when Jimin lowered himself just enough so that their crotches were barely brushing. Jimin blushed, but he didn’t pull back and kept the contact feather light. “You’re cute and you’re sweet and you punched an asshole in the face, which is really hot.” Jimin slid closer, kissed Yoongi soft and slow again. “Of course I like you,” he breathed against his mouth.
Jimin’s lips were soft and wet and intoxicating. Yoongi slowly slid his hands along Jimin’s waist until his arms were fully wrapped around him. He tugged, just to bring him closer, and blinked in surprise when Jimin resisted and arched his back again, bringing his body further away from Yoongi’s.
“What’s wrong?” Yoongi breathed, hands sliding back around to the sides of Jimin’s waist again. “Am I—is it too fast?”
Jimin shook his head, cheeks a little pink. “Hyung—have you—have you ever…?”
Yoongi’s brow furrowed. “Are you...asking if I’m virgin?”
Jimin’s eyes widened a fraction before they crinkled as he let out a laugh. “Not exactly?” He licked his lips, slid closer again and pressed them against Yoongi’s. “Have you ever…done anything with a hybrid before?”
Yoongi kept his grip on Jimin’s waist steady. “No. You would be my first, uh, experience,” Yoongi said, immediately wondering if he could have put it in a less offensive way and flushing when Jimin smiled down at him.
“I thought so,” he said, looking almost pleased.
“What’s that mean,” Yoongi grumbled.
Jimin laughed. “You can just tell with some people.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes away from Jimin, working very hard not to whimper when he felt Jimin’s mouth pressing soft, little kisses to his cheek, jaw, even some on his neck
“So, why’s it matter?” Yoongi asked after a few moments, blaming Jimin’s teeth on the breathlessness of his voice.
Jimin lifted his head. “It doesn’t, but, you know, I, um…” Jimin licked his lips. “Self-lubricate.”
Yoongi stared at him.
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”
Yoongi shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, I knew that, but I mean, I didn’t, I didn’t think we, or that you would want to—I mean if you want to have sex than okay but we don’t have to—”
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin said, cutting him off. His eyes were twinkling, but they were far from innocent. “I wasn’t telling you because I want to have sex right this second—I mean, I’m definitely okay with it —” He giggled at the way Yoongi’s grip slipped on his waist, the pink dusting across his cheeks. He leaned closer, bringing his body back down so he was finally flush against Yoongi’s. His breath was hot on Yoongi’s ear, voice a low murmur. “I’m telling you because I’m wet.”
Yoongi jerked up against Jimin, inhaling sharply, his arms wrapping tight around Jimin’s waist. “Wh—right now?” Yoongi said, stupidly, voice cracking at the end.
Jimin slowly rolled his hips, reaching back to wrap his fingers around Yoongi’s wrist. “Yeah. ‘Cause of you.” Jimin tugged gently at Yoongi’s wrist and he released his hold on Jimin with that hand, allowing the younger boy to guide him. “You want to feel?”
Yoongi’s hips rolled up against Jimin’s, a knee jerk reaction to the slight rasp in Jimin’s voice, the words he was saying, his body warm on top his, and he took control of his hand again, moving on his own to drag his fingers past the base of Jimin’s tail, settling in between his cheeks and trailing down over the soft material over his ass, breathing out shakily when he felt how damp and sticky it was.
“Fuck,” he whispered, moving his fingers up and down over the swell of Jimin’s butt. Jimin gasped into his neck and Yoongi wrapped his other arm more securely around his waist, pulling him more flush against him. “You are wet.”
Jimin laughed shakily. “Mmh yeah. Do you—” his voice rose in pitch when Yoongi ran his fingers more firmly down between his cheeks, the fabric dampening more heavily. “Do you mind it?”
Yoongi wanted to laugh. “Does it look like I mind it?”
Jimin buried his face into Yoongi’s neck. “It feels nice.”
Yoongi tilted his head so he could press his lips against the top of Jimin’s head as he stroked up and down over his backside. He moved slowly, but both of them were practically panting, and for a couple minutes, the only other sound in the room was the music still playing from other end of the room.
“Jimin,” Yoongi said quietly, just as Jimin began to move his hips against Yoongi’s again. “Have you done this before?” He felt silly asking, was pretty sure he knew the answer, but Jimin was at least two years younger than him, and a freshman to boot, and he hadn’t outright said what he’d done. Yoongi didn’t want to cross a line.
Jimin paused, lifting his head from Yoongi’s neck so he could look down at him. “Done what?” His brow furrowed. “Had sex? Yeah, I have.” He stopped moving. “Wait, are you a virgin?”
Yoongi made a disgruntled noise. “No, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Jimin tsked, but his expression was playful. “You’re the one that asked me. Besides, it’d be fine if you were. I mean, as long as you…want to?” He licked his lips and leaned closer. His voice was a whisper in Yoongi’s ear. “You want me, don’t you?”
Yoongi didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I like you.”
Jimin smiled. “I like you too.” He began to move his hips again, slow and firm. “I’m gonna take really good care of you.”
Yoongi’s grip tightened on Jimin’s waist, nails likely leaving brief, white marks on his honey skin, knuckles pulsing with a pain that was wholly worth it. His other hand was still moving up and down Jimin’s ass, two fingers now pressing in between his cheeks. “Okay,” he breathed.
Jimin hummed, his hips grinding harder over Yoongi’s. He shifted so they could kiss again, mouths opening more readily against each other. Yoongi couldn’t stop the deep moan the started in the back of his throat as Jimin sucked on his lower lip at the same time he rolled his hips hard against Yoongi’s. Without thinking about it, Yoongi lifted his hand from Jimin’s ass wrap to his arm around the younger boy’s small waist, holding him closer. His fingers, slick and wet from Jimin, slid over the skin of his back, smearing a light trail over the skin.
“God I,” Yoongi muttered, squeezing Jimin tighter. “I wanna feel you.”
“Mhm,” Jimin replied, leaning back enough so he could push Yoongi’s shirt up his chest. Yoongi helped him pull it off, hands going for the ends of Jimin’s sweater after he’d tossed the garment to the side.
Jimin smiled at him and playfully batted his hands away. His cheeks blushed pink as he pulled the neck of the sweater up to his nose and giggled into the fabric. His tail was waving in the air behind him, and his ears were slowly shifting sideways and facing downwards. He was gorgeous and fucking adorable, and Yoongi felt inexplicably frustrated. He was torn between wanting to throw him down against the bed and just having his way, or pulling him up against his chest to simply hold him.
Jimin’s eyes half-mooned so deeply they nearly shut before he tugged the sweater up and over his head, dropping it off the side of the bed so he was sitting astride Yoongi in nothing but his damp leggings and that goddamn black choker. Yoongi gulped, and both of Jimin’s cat ears flicked up and forwards at the sound.
“Okay?” Jimin whispered.
“Yeah,” Yoongi whispered back. He breathed in and out once. “You’re just—”
Jimin smiled, taking Yoongi’s hands and placing them on his waist, slowly guiding him up to feel his skin. “‘Mm what?” he said, voice patient.
“You’re—” Jimin rolled his hips, and Yoongi could feel the dampness of his leggings pressing against his jeans. He tilted his head back against the pillow, toes curling when he felt Jimin’s mouth press against his neck. “You’re amazing.”
Jimin hummed against his neck, the soft vibrations of his purring starting back up in his chest. “Says you. Hyung,” he added in a whisper. “Can I take your pants off?”
Yoongi laughed slightly against Jimin’s head. “Yeah,” he said, making a soft sound when Jimin immediately moved, swinging off Yoongi with dexterity, his feet touching the floor as he pulled Yoongi into a sitting position, gripping and shifting him by the hips to turn him so his legs hung off the bed.
“What—” Yoongi started, losing his voice when Jimin sank to his knees, small hands working at the buttons.
“You think you can stand for me, hyung?” Jimin asked sweetly, peering up at Yoongi through his blonde fringe. Without thinking, Yoongi reached out to push his fingers through it. Jimin’s eyes closed.
“I’m honestly not sure.’”
Jimin grinned, eyes fluttering open as he slowly tugged on the zipper. “Just for a second.”
Yoongi swallowed and pushed himself to his feet. Jimin was quick to pull down his jeans until they pooled around his ankles, and he made a sound of appreciation, dragging his hands back up Yoongi’s pale legs and coming to a stop on his boxer briefs. Yoongi thought he was doing okay until Jimin hummed and pressed his cheek against Yoongi’s thigh, tilting his head until his lips were on his erection, kissing and mouthing over the cloth until it was nearly as wet as the back of Jimin’s leggings.
“Ji—Jimin,” Yoongi hissed, nearly falling back onto the bed, but Jimin tightened his grip on his thighs and looked up at him, managing to look innocent and wicked all at once.
“Can I keep going?” he said, kissing at the hard flesh under his boxers.
Fuck, fuck, Yoongi was done for.
“Mmhm,” he managed.
Jimin smiled as he slipped his fingers into the waistband, pulling it out and over Yoongi’s cock, fully hard and twitching embarrassingly under Jimin’s intent gaze.
“Wow,” Jimin mumbled, guiding Yoongi’s feet out of his pants and boxers all while keeping his eyes on Yoongi’s dick. “Hyung, you’re seriously pretty all over, aren’t you?”
Yoongi’s breath caught somewhere in between his lungs and his throat before coming out in a harsh gasp when Jimin took him completely in his mouth. He looked up at Yoongi as he pushed forward, lips swollen and pink as they settled around the base of his cock. His hybrid ears were still angled sideways and down, their positioning incredibly submissive, and yet Yoongi felt like he was the one losing control, that in that moment, he would do anything Jimin asked.
Jimin slowly pulled off of Yoongi, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. He reached up to curl his fingers around the base of Yoongi’s cock and lightly rubbed the tip against his lips, keeping his eyes on Yoongi’s as precum smeared over the pink skin.
“Oh, f-fuck,” Yoongi hissed, his hands digging into Jimin’s shoulder. “Jimin—mm—” he lost the ability to speak when Jimin poked his tongue out and flicked it over the tip before tapping the head of his cock against the wet muscle.
Jimin’s eyes were hooded, his tail slowly, almost sensually, waving and curling behind him. “You taste really good,” Jimin breathed, then took Yoongi completely in his mouth again, gagging just a little when the tip hit the back of his throat. He didn’t pull back though, and put a gentle, reassuring hand over Yoongi’s on his shoulder before he swallowed around his cock. Yoongi’s grip tightened under Jimin’s hand, another ragged breath bursting out of his mouth, both at the ache in his knuckles and the twisting in his gut, a direct result of Jimin’s mouth on him.
Jimin pulled back and licked at the slit. He had unshed tears in his eyes but the purring that had started before was almost a rumble now. Yoongi tried to calm his breathing even as Jimin kissed and suckled at the head, sliding the hand that wasn’t under Jimin’s off one shoulder and up into his hair. Jimin visibly preened, tilting into the touch until Yoongi’s fingers were brushing over the soft fur on his cat ears. Very slowly, Yoongi applied a slight amount of pressure on Jimin’s head, finding a grip in his soft hair and pulling. He was ready to remove his hand the second Jimin resisted, but the hybrid did no such thing. In fact, his expression seemed to shift, almost light up at the guidance, and he tilted his head forward until his mouth was on Yoongi again.
He moved with a new sort of fire, bobbing his head quickly and reaching back with his other hand to press Yoongi’s hand more firmly in his hair. Yoongi huffed out a breath, tightening his grip and moving his hand along with Jimin’s head, toes curling against the carpet at the wet, slurping noises, the way the tip of Jimin’s tail flicked over his other hand on Jimin’s shoulder.
“Ah—mm, Jimin, Jimin,” he whispered, trying not to fucking whimper.
Jimin pulled off, and when he spoke, his lips moved against Yoongi’s cock. “’Mm I being a good kitten, Yoongi-hyung?”
Yoongi decided he had stood long efuckingnough. He fell back on the bed with a ragged gasp, catching himself on his hands. He barely had time to orient himself, to wrap his head around what had just happened, what was happening right now when Jimin pushed himself up from the floor, peeling off his leggings. Yoongi caught a quick glimpse of his flushed, hard cock before the hybrid was climbing into Yoongi’s lap, straddling his hips.
“Hyung, I’m so wet,” Jimin whimpered, burying his face into Yoongi’s neck. “Fuck, I like you so much, so much,” he continued, rolling his hips forward against Yoongi when the older boy’s fingers skimmed over the slick mess in between his cheeks. “Wanna be—wanna be a good kitten for you, please, please, I wanna—”
“Hey, hey,” Yoongi whispered, clutching the back of Jimin’s head with one hand, the other still stroking over Jimin’s ass. The purring had stopped, but Jimin was panting, sharp little puffs of breath that washed hot and desperate right over Yoongi’s ear. He stroked his hand once, twice over the back of Jimin’s head, the soft strands of his hair weirdly soothing as they tickled the scrapes on his knuckles. “It’s okay you’re—mm, Jimin, you’re so good, so good, kitten,” he said, pushing one fingertip inside the younger boy, feeling his cheeks warm at the endearment that came out of his mouth, at how Jimin preened at it, rolling his hips forward so hard that Yoongi nearly toppled backwards. Tensing, he managed to keep them both upright, tsking softly against Jimin’s temple and trying to keep his wits about him. It was—it was like nothing he’d ever done or even imagined, the warm, wet heat that was Jimin’s body. And fuck, he was wet, so wet that one finger barely met any resistance, and Yoongi was able to slide in all the way almost immediately, right up to the knuckle.
“Yoongi,” Jimin said in his ear. He breathed out into it, pressed a wet kiss against the shell, and Yoongi had to hold back a shiver. He pulled his finger slowly out of Jimin’s hole and pushed back in, developing a shaky rhythm. “Yoongi,” Jimin said again, his voice more breathless. “Ah, Yoongi, been imagining your fingers for months, hyung, please—please, put in more, I’ll be so good, your good little kitt—”
Yoongi groaned, all but shoving in a second finger, half to cut off Jimin’s breathless whimpering because he couldn’t take it. Jimin was warm and practically vibrating in his arms. Two fingers met more resistance than one, but Jimin arched back into it, and Yoongi felt another wave of slick pulse and pool around his fingertips, and he couldn’t stop the gasping groan in his throat. The slick made everything noisy in a way that was absolutely lewd, and with Jimin whispering and whining in his ear, Yoongi was afraid he was going to come untouched, all over their chests.
Jimin crooned against Yoongi’s skin when he crooked his fingers inside Jimin and dragged the tips along his walls, sliding his other hand further up the back of Jimin’s head to massage the base of his ears. Jimin hiccupped, wiggling his hips back against Yoongi’s hand and tilting his head back.
Yoongi took advantage of this, pressing his mouth against Jimin’s neck and pushing in a third digit. Jimin’s lips parted, his eyes almost all the way shut as he ground himself back against Yoongi’s hand. Leaning back a little to just look at him, Yoongi exhaled, “You’re the pretty one, Jimin.”
Jimin opened one eye a little wider at Yoongi’s words, one fluffy ear flicking forward. He smiled, looking almost drunk and sighing in a way that had Yoongi’s cock throbbing. “I like being pretty for you,” he mumbled. He gasped, tail thrashing wildly behind him when Yoongi’s fingers brushed over a bundle of nerves. “Mm fuck, that’s—that’s good—”
Yoongi’s cheeks were flushed pink, but he felt a little daring, the small smile on Jimin’s face encouraging him. “Like that, kitten?”
Jimin grinned wide, something a little wild in the expression, eyes glazing and jaw dropping in a silent moan when Yoongi pressed against his prostate again. He nodded.
“So pretty,” Yoongi mumbled, kissing Jimin’s jaw and exhaling shakily against it. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”
Jimin made a soft sound, and then suddenly Yoongi was being shoved backwards, his fingers pulling out of Jimin with slick sound. He blinked up at the him, the way the pointed ears on his head were no longer sideways, but straight and facing forward. There was a pretty pink flush that started in his cheeks and traveled all the down to his collar bones. And the choker, that thin, black strip of fabric wrapped around his neck.
“I want you to fuck me,” Jimin said, leaning forward so his breath washed sweet and warm over Yoongi’s lips. “Do you wanna fuck me, Yoongi?”
Yoongi slid his hands up Jimin’s thighs, stopping at his waist and squeezing. “Y-yeah.”
Jimin tilted his head forward and pressed his lips against Yoongi’s. They kissed, tongues sliding together, Jimin making soft, cooing noises against Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi shifted, sliding one hand further up along the other boy’s waist and rubbing at the skin just over the base of his tail.
Jimin panted against him, back arching back into Yoongi’s touch. “Feels good, hyung,” he said. He dropped his head down onto Yoongi’s collarbones, arched back again when Yoongi, a little awed, repeated the motion, digging the pads of his fingers a little deeper into the skin.
“Lemme get a condom,” Yoongi said when Jimin whined very loudly into his skin, pressing his hips back needily. “Fuck, babe, just—hang on—”
Jimin whined again, tightening his thighs around Yoongi’s waist and clinging onto him so tightly it was almost impossible to reach the drawer of his night table.
“Jimin,” Yoongi said, not wanting to shake him off but doing just that so he could open the drawer. Jimin mumbled something unintelligible against his skin, pressing desperate little kisses along his chest and collarbone. “Hang on, baby, fuck—” Yoongi nearly dropped the wrapper when Jimin sat up, rolling his hips back in a way that had Yoongi’s cock slipping between his ass cheeks.
“I want you,” Jimin said. “Hyung, don’t you feel how wet I am? Please.”
“I want you too,” Yoongi said, and he grabbed Jimin around the waist and shifted him up and backwards so he could put the condom on, barely feeling the dull pulse in his injured hand at this point. “Fuck, you think I don’t? I gotta put this on.”
Yoongi ripped open the wrapper and Jimin took it from him immediately after, small fingers pushing the latex down over Yoongi’s cock and giving it a couple quick, experimental tugs. He looked up at Yoongi, eyes hooded and lips shiny. One cat ear was flicking back and forth amidst his fluffy blonde locks as he lifted himself on his knees and positioned the head of Yoongi’s cock at his entrance. His pupils were blown wide, his skin warm and smooth under Yoongi’s palms.
“It’s okay,” Yoongi said. He wasn’t sure why, but Jimin was just looking at him, not moving, breathing harshly through parted lips.
Yoongi’s voice seemed to jog something in him. He blinked, lips pulling into a smile. “I know,” he said, voice sweet and soft like the rest of him. Then he shifted his hips down, Yoongi’s dick pressing up and into his heat.
Yoongi groaned, and this made Jimin smile wider, looking pleased at Yoongi’s reaction even as he panted for breath, taking his time to sink down completely. He tilted his head back, exposing the flushed skin of his neck. “Do I feel good?” he whispered.
Yoongi’s eyes were threatening to fall shut at how good Jimin felt. Tight, warm, wet, holy fuck, he was wet—
But he looked amazing. It worth the struggle to watch Jimin when he finally bottomed out, ears flattening against his hair and a loud cry falling past his lips. Strands of his blonde hair were clumped with sweat, some on his forehead, some near his temples. The flush in his body had deepened, and his thighs were tense under Yoongi’s hands.
He was beautiful, fucking beautiful. Yoongi was a damn idiot for waiting one day, let alone four or five months.
Jimin’s head tilted forward, eyes hot and dark on Yoongi’s. The heat around Yoongi’s cock tightened as Jimin looked at him. Yoongi cursed under his breath, unable to stop his eyelids from fluttering shut, just for a second. “Jimin, don’t—fuck, you’re tight—”
“You don’t like it?” Jimin breathed. He slowly began to lift himself up.
“No, I like it, how could you—” Yoongi groaned, gripping Jimin around the hips and rolling his hips up to meet Jimin’s as he sank back down. “Jimin, Jimin, I—”
“Hyung,” Jimin gasped when Yoongi thrust up into him again. “Mm, ah—” He pressed his palm against Yoongi’s chest as he developed a rhythm, hips rolling up and down, preening when Yoongi’s hands slipped down to grasp at his cheeks and spread them before shifting back up to his hips. “Baby,” he crooned, and he clenched around Yoongi again, dragging another groan from the older boy. “Am I making you feel good?”
Yoongi arched a little off the bed, pushing himself further into Jimin and pulling a moan from both of them. “Yeah, kitten. You are—you’re so good.”
And he was, fuck he was so good. He already knew he wasn’t—he couldn’t, physically couldn’t last long. It had been months (like, over twelve) since he’d had sex, and Jimin—he was so gone for him. Jimin, who was glowing and whining as he moved up and down in Yoongi’s lap, longer strands of his hair catching on his ears as he flung his head back, shifting so his hands pressed against the tops of Yoongi’s thighs. The position gave him better leverage, and it only took a couple seconds before he was fully fucking himself onto Yoongi, soft little gasps punctuating the air.
“Jimin, I’m—” Yoongi swallowed a whine, a whine. “I’m close.”
Jimin dug his fingers into Yoongi’s legs, sharp nails scraping red lines into the skin, but Yoongi didn’t care. He swallowed, and fuck, fuck, he was so close, so he lurched into a sitting position, holding himself up with one arm behind him and curling his other hand around Jimin’s cock, red and flushed and untouched.
“Yoongi,” Jimin cried, hips stuttering. Yoongi all but growled, taking a moment to balance himself before he curled his other arm around Jimin’s waist, hand settling on one plump cheek and grasping the flesh.
“C’mon, kitten, I want you to cum,” Yoongi said in between sloppy kisses to Jimin’s chest. “Fuck you’re—” he scraped his teeth over a nipple, did it again to hear Jimin make the same high-pitched noise. “—you’re so good, so good, can you cum for me, huh?”
“Mmm,” Jimin slurred, taking his hands off Yoongi’s thighs and wrapping them around Yoongi’s neck. “Yeah, I—yeah, Yoongi, I—” he sobbed into Yoongi’s neck, his hips slamming down against Yoongi’s.
“M’gonna cum,” Yoongi hissed. “You’re gonna make me cum, Jimin.”
“Me too, me too, please—” Jimin begged, and then he was coming all over Yoongi’s fist, white streaks splattering across both their stomachs. Yoongi gasped, gripping Jimin’s hips with both hands and fucking up into him, fucking him through it, fucking up into his perfect wet heat until he was coming too, gasping into Jimin’s collar bones, fingers coming to slide around his back and press on the area just above his tail again, pulling a loud keen from Jimin, the younger boy’s hips stuttering, walls clenching around Yoongi before he went absolutely limp in his arms, rubbing his face into Yoongi’s neck.
Yoongi pressed his lips together simply to stop himself from saying something totally moronic like I love you in his blissed out, post-orgasmic state, but he tightened his arms around Jimin, forehead pressed into sinewy skin between Jimin’s neck and shoulder. They sat there for several minutes, kissing each others’ flushed, sweaty skin. Yoongi was unable to stop himself from smiling when he heard the vibrations start in Jimin’s chest, quickly swelling to a loud purr that Yoongi could feel in a way that had him shivering, with his dick softening but still very inside the hybrid.
“I’m gonna get a towel,” he said after several long seconds, realizing that Jimin’s orgasm was drying quickly on their skin. He didn’t even get a chance to turn his body before Jimin was clinging to him tighter, his purring briefly lower in intensity as he wrapped his legs around Yoongi’s waist, his heels pressing into Yoongi’s lower back.
“Don’t leave,” he breathed.
Yoongi chuckled into Jimin’s neck. “Kitten,” he said, and Jimin giggled. “It’s gonna dry and it’s gonna be gross. The bathroom is two feet away.”
“Mm-mm,” Jimin protested, pressing harder against Yoongi, which only highlighted the mess on their skin. “Stay, I don’t care.”
“All right,” Yoongi said, then, grasping Jimin tightly around the middle, lurched off the bed without warning. This effectively pulled Jimin off his dick, and the hybrid squawked in protest, tightening his legs around Yoongi’s waist as he was carried to the bathroom. Yoongi grunted when he put Jimin on the bathroom counter, mentally patting himself on the back for not dropping him, as he didn’t feel quite steady on his legs just yet. He quickly pulled off the condom and tossed it in the basket, reaching over to twist on the warm water tap.
Jimin beamed, pushing his face forward to nose along Yoongi’s jaw. “I kinda like seeing my cum on you, hyung.”
“Gross,” Yoongi mumbled, unfortunately able to see how red his cheeks were in the mirror behind Jimin. He looked a wreck, his hair sticking up all over the place, and he could see some light scratch marks along his shoulders and collarbones, a few angrier looking ones on his thighs. When he pulled back, Jimin was looking at him like—
“You’re so gorgeous.”
Yoongi looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Says you.”
“Mhm,” Jimin said, reaching out to touch Yoongi’s chin and turn his face forward again. “I do, I think you’re beautiful.” He got a hold of Yoongi’s hand, pulling it forward, eyes flicking down to the red and purple coloring. Very softly, he pressed his lips to the knuckles. “Really.”
“Stop,” Yoongi said, fucking embarrassed and ducking out of Jimin’s reach to grab a washcloth from underneath the counter. He straightened, wetting it with warm water and shutting off the tap. He went to clean Jimin first, gently dragging the cloth over his stomach, swallowing as he passed over the ridges of his abs, delicate but defined. Jimin could compliment him to the moon and back, but he was still the most incredible thing Yoongi had ever, and would ever see.
When Yoongi pulled the cloth away from Jimin, the hybrid swooped forward to peck Yoongi on the lips. Yoongi laughed against his mouth, taking care to kiss him back gently, dropping an extra kiss on his healing lower lip as he quickly cleaned himself. It wasn’t great, but it was good enough until he showered later. He dabbed at the slick smeared around his cock before patting Jimin’s thigh. “You gotta get up and turn around.”
Jimin blushed, his ears twitching in his hair. “I can do that, hyung.”
Yoongi grinned. “All right. I’ll be outside.”
Jimin pouted but didn’t stop Yoongi from leaving the bathroom. He made his way over to the record player, which had come to a stop. Feeling too lazy to find another record, he simply flipped the vinyl to the front side before putting the stylus in place and hummed at the soft, thrumming beats of the first track.
He was collapsing back onto the bed when Jimin came out of the bathroom. He smiled at Yoongi, padding over to the record player. Yoongi watched as he glanced around, taking in the lean lines of his body, the way his skin seemed to absolutely glow. He was still stark naked, save for the choker, and just looking at him, the way his body curved and his tail waved languidly in the air as he bent down to grab the box of Yoongi’s 45s, Yoongi felt his breath choke a little in his throat.
Jimin put the box down on the night table before joining Yoongi on the bed, curling into his side. Yoongi had never been much of a cuddler, too bony and sharp to feel like it was fun for anyone else, but the purring had started in Jimin’s chest again and there was a soft smile on his lips. Yoongi found it hard to resist curling his arm around Jimin’s shoulders, pushing his fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp.
“Baekhyun is gonna be so mad,” Jimin said happily, snuggling closer to Yoongi. He tilted his head back so he could nose at Yoongi’s hand until it was where he wanted it, kissing the bruises on the back before nudging the hand back up into his hair.
Yoongi tapped his fingers against his scalp. “Mad?”
Jimin peered up at him. “He told me you were never gonna make a move. Although that was before you punched someone in the face for me. I mean, us,” Jimin added, blushing. “Anyway, he hates being wrong. So, yeah, mad.”
Yoongi continued to rub his fingers along Jimin’s scalp. “Mm,” he said, tilting his head down so his next words were spoken against Jimin’s hair. One of his fluffy ears twitched forwards, tickling Yoongi’s cheek. “It was mostly for you, kitten.”
Jimin made a soft, pleased noise, kissing under Yoongi’s chin.
Yoongi’s lips twitched into a smile. He glanced over at the box Jimin had brought over. “You wanna look at them?”
Jimin turned to look too. “Oh! Yeah, I do.” He pulled the box into his lap, carefully taking off the lid. “They only have a couple songs on them, right?”
Yoongi nodded as Jimin lifted the first one, stripes of blue, yellow, and red adorning the cover. “They’re like, singles,” Yoongi said, smiling wider when Jimin carefully slid the vinyl out, taking care to not touch the surface. “Usually have one song, maybe two.”
“That’s crazy,” Jimin said with a little grin. “You have to keep manually replaying it over and over again. What’s the point?”
“Aesthetic,” Yoongi said with a straight face, expression cracking when Jimin giggled madly and called Yoongi a snob.
They continued to look through the records. Jimin had at least one question for every record, some serious, some teasing. Yoongi was too happy to answer each question in kind. If he was being honest with himself, the whole thing had him falling even harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible.
They were near the bottom of the box when Jimin’s questions began to ease up, his voice slurring a little in his tiredness, Yoongi’s fingers in his hair also slowing. Jimin murmured something Yoongi didn’t catch, putting the box back on the nightstand and curling into Yoongi’s side. Yoongi didn’t remember falling asleep.
When he woke, it took him a full two minutes to orient himself. And when he had, his thoughts weren’t exactly solid. Did that actually happen?
He wasn’t sure, because he was alone in the bed.
Yoongi sat up, a blanket that he had definitely not fallen asleep under falling off of him.
He glanced at the empty space next to him, then reached over the bed and looked at his phone. Nothing from Jimin, but 10 fucking text messages from Namjoon.
taehyung and Jungkook came in.
just them. you’re hanging out with Jimin?
they invited me over
probably just gonna go back to the house, fair warning
nevermind i’m going to their apartment
sort of freaking out but holy shit
i’m good though
I like them. wow
Yoongi glanced around the room grabbing a pair of only slightly used sweats hanging over the edge of his bed and tugging them on as he walked out of his room.
Yoongi resisted the urge to call out Jimin’s name, walking past Hoseok’s room and the bathroom in silence as the hall opened out to the living room.
Jimin was sitting curled up against the corner of a the couch, eyes on the TV, a blanket from Yoongi’s room wrapped around his shoulders. Yoongi blinked, his heart rate skipping a beat before slowing.
“Comfortable?” he said.
Jimin whirled around, eyes wide, then his face broke out into a smile.
“Hyung, hi,” Jimin said as Yoongi approached. “I woke up like twenty minutes ago. Got curious,” he said, smiling against the cushions.
“You mean nosy?” Yoongi said. Jimin ignored him, leaning into his side when Yoongi sat down next to him.
“I’m hungry,” Jimin said.
Yoongi laughed, despite himself. “Are you?”
“Yes,” Jimin chided, pressing harder into Yoongi’s side. “Can we eat?”
Yoongi fiddled with his phone, glancing over at Jimin. “Namjoon went to your place. With Taehyung and Jungkook?”
Jimin straightened, mouth popping open and eyes lighting up. “Seriously?”
“Mhm,” Yoongi said. “So…we can eat. And then you can just stay, if you want.”
Jimin smiled, eyes crescenting. “That sounds nice.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Yoongi muttered, squeezing Jimin’s thigh and realizing he was still stark naked underneath the blanket. “Jimin, your clothes—?
Jimin’s eyes glinted, his shifting tail causing the blanket fall off one shoulder. “You don’t like this?”
His expression was devious, and the black choker was still around his neck. Yoongi wanted to ask Jimin exactly how much control over his tail he really had, but later. Hoseok wasn’t due home for another couple hours, and Namjoon definitely wasn’t coming back till the morning.
“Think you can wait a little bit more before we get food?” Yoongi said against Jimin’s mouth, kissing him afterwards and sliding a hand under the blanket and pushing it off his other shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Jimin teased, a mischievous grin touching his lips. “You gonna make it worth my while?”
Yoongi answered by pressing a hard kiss to Jimin’s smiling mouth.
Yeah, food could wait.
Since Yoongi’s shift the next day started at noon and he and Jimin woke up at eleven thirty, Jimin texted Jongdae to come pick him up, even though Yoongi offered to drop him off.
“I don’t want you to be late,” Jimin said, taking the pants Yoongi offered him, since his leggings from the day before weren’t exactly clean. “Besides, I gotta see what’s going on with Tae, Kook, and Namjoon-hyung.” Jimin grinned, popping his head through his holey sweater, ears twitching. “I’ll text you all the details.”
“I’m definitely gonna be late. And not really sure if I want all the details,” Yoongi said.
Jimin poked out his tongue playfully, watching from the bed as Yoongi searched for a clean polo. “Of course you do. How else would you tease him?”
“Touché,” Yoongi said.
Jimin’s phone pinged. He glanced down at it, one ear twitching. “Jongdae is here.”
Jimin smiled at Yoongi. “Don’t want me to leave?”
Yoongi made a face. “Step down a peg.”
“Look who’s talking,” Jimin said. He bounced to his feet, watching in amusement as Yoongi scrambled to find pants. “I’ll walk myself out,” he giggled. As Yoongi opened his mouth to protest, Jimin leaned forward and kissed him. “It’s okay. I’m coming into the shop later. I can’t wait to see you.”
Yoongi’s cheeks pinkened. “Yeah. Me too.”
Jimin grinned. “We’re so gross, I love it.”
“Ugh, I hate you.”
“I don’t think you do~” Jimin sang. He kissed Yoongi again. “Find your pants. Don’t be late. I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, okay,” Yoongi said. Before he let Jimin walk out of his room, he held him back with one hand wrapped around his arm, reaching up to gently rub behind one of Jimin’s ears. Jimin flushed, shooting Yoongi a happy smile before walked out.
Yoongi found his pants shoved between the wall and his hamper in his closet seven minutes later. Before he left, though, he yanked open his desk drawer, shoving what was inside in his bag, a warm feeling of determination spreading through his body.
Tae’s bedroom door is SHUT
I was hoping to find them all naked in the living room or something
Yes but I hear noises
what are you listening at the door or something?
Jeez want kind of noises
hehe see you’re curious
But what kind of noises
Like just talking or whatever
Figures with namjoon
They probably just talked all night
Not if I know Tae and Kook
Wanna bet :3 ?
Wanna see you
I just blushed for five whole minutes I swear
We’re coming soon!! <3
I swear they haven’t left the room damn Tae and his minifridge
Hyung we’re on our way
You’re gonna die
Yoongi was wiping down the tables when the door’s chime went off and the group walked in. Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, as it normally did, something that was exhilarating and frustrating all at once.
Baekhyun and Jongdae were in front, mid-conversation and grinning behind them at Jimin. Jimin. Yoongi had just seen him less than six hours before, but the sight of him, looking like he’d just showered with the ends of his hair still a little damp, wearing tight blue jeans and a bright yellow top, was, to Yoongi, no different than if the sun had decided to come down and walk into the shop.
Jimin’s eyes darted around and found Yoongi, paused mid-wipe at one of the tables several feet away. The smile on his face shifted into a bright, beaming grin and Yoongi forgot about everything else.
“Uh, hello, are you done cleaning this table?”
Yoongi startled, looking around at the impatient face of a girl and her boyfriend, both holding drinks Hoseok had just made for them, the girl being the one who had spoken and who was currently tapping her foot impatiently as she glared at Yoongi.
He glanced around at the five other empty tables, could see that Jimin and the others were sitting at their usual table now a few feet away. “Um, yup. Here you go,” he said, stepping away from them as he turned back towards the others.
Jimin looked up at his movement, smiling and jerking his head not-so-subtlety to the left. Yoongi blinked, following the path and his jaw dropping a little around a grin when he took in Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon.
Yoongi didn’t know what had fucking happened in the last twelve hours (clearly, a lot) but it must have been something good, considering the fact that Jungkook was sitting in Namjoon’s lap, sideways, so he could face Taehyung next to them. The dog hybrid had dragged his chair close enough so that his and Jungkook’s knees overlapped. Taehyung had one hand on the side of Jungkook’s thigh, the other on Namjoon’s knee. Namjoon’s arm was wrapped loosely around Jungkook’s waist, and he was leaning against the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder, watching Taehyung speak with a soft smile deepening the dimple in his cheek. He looked like he’d just fallen in love six times.
There were also two very fucking large hickeys on either side of his neck.
Yoongi looked back at Jimin, who was grinning at him so hard his eyes were nearly closed. Yoongi turned, only because he had to laugh. It was insane. It was great.
He was able to make eye contact with Hoseok, who was also grinning.
“Hey Namjoon did you fall on a vacuum?” Hoseok practically screeched. The girl who had snapped at Yoongi earlier looked scandalized.
Namjoon blushed, glaring at Hoseok, his expression immediately softening when Jungkook turned and dropped a kiss on his forehead.
“Booooo!” Hoseok crowed, still grinning and waving a half-made coffee over his head. Jimin was laughing into his arms, Jongdae was rolling his eyes, and Baekhyun was smirking.
“Hey, what the hell is goi—” Seokjin stopped short a foot away from Yoongi, eyes widening when he took in Namjoon, Jungkook, and Taehyung. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell is this?” He sounded half shocked, half delighted, shuffling forward so he didn’t have to speak so loudly.
“Namjoon totally had sex with Tae and Kook!” Hoseok shouted.
The girl at the table glanced from Hoseok to her coffee with wide eyes, as if she were suddenly doubting its contents.
Seokjin pointed at Hoseok behind the counter. “Shut up.” He turned back to the others, grinning at Namjoon, who looked like he wanted to die a little bit, which brought back a semblance of normalcy to the situation. “Well. I thought it was a miracle that Yoongi and Jimin moved on from their middle school level flirting, but, this is another level.”
Jimin peeked up from his arms, cheeks puffy as he smiled at Yoongi. Baekhyun nudged him, raising an eyebrow at Yoongi.
Taehyung grinned at Seokjin. “Thanks.”
“Just keep the canoodling to a minimum, he’s still my employee,” Seokjin said, eyeing the hickeys on Namjoon’s neck.
Jungkook looked put out. “Do I have to get off his lap?”
“No, bun,” Seokjin said, and Yoongi rolled his eyes behind his back. “Just, ah, you know. No sex or anything.”
“That leaves plenty of other options,” Taehyung sang. “No problem!”
Seokjin shook his head, nudged Taehyung’s shoulder. “I said or anything. Just behave, yeah?”
“Good luck with that,” Jongdae said.
Seokjin shook his head, making his way back towards the register with a small smile on his face.
Jimin was looking down at his arms now, his smile turned a little shy. Yoongi had a brief, white hot minute of hesitation that he crushed as he strode forward, stopping directly across from Jimin, very aware of Baekhyun’s amber eyes on him, plus the others, but he didn’t quite give a fuck anymore.
He pulled out three cassettes, two in one pocket and the final one in the other. They clacked together as he lined them up and held them out to Jimin, who had straightened in his chair and was staring down at them, tail flicking through the slats of his chair, ears frozen in a forward position.
“They’re mixtapes,” Yoongi said as Jimin took them. “I made the first one a month after we met, I think. Second one a couple months after that. Made the third one two nights ago.”
Jimin looked at the purple bruising on Yoongi’s knuckles, at the tapes, and then up at Yoongi’s face.
Yoongi felt a little warm, knew his cheeks were probably red, but it didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to give them to you,” he said.
Jimin’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. “Told you I didn’t mind waiting.” He smiled, gently put the cassettes down on the table in front of him. “Totally worth it.”
“You guys are really gross,” Baekhyun said, sounding pleased.
Jimin stood up and without another word, dug his fingers into the collar of Yoongi’s polo and yanked him close. “Seokjin’s gonna have to deal with this one,” he breathed, and then he was kissing Yoongi.
Distantly, Yoongi could hear Hoseok booing cheerfully in the distance, Taehyung and Jungkook exclaiming happily, Seokjin shouting something along the lines of what did I say about canoodling, Baekhyun chuckling and finally, sensed a happy, if not slightly judgmental silence from Namjoon and Jongdae.
At the forefront was Jimin. His hair soft under Yoongi’s fingers, pointed ears just as soft, lips even softer as they moved against his. His small fingers were still holding him tightly by the shirt collar, and Yoongi used the hand that wasn’t in Jimin’s hair to grip his waist, felt the fluffy end of Jimin’s tail curl lightly around his wrist.
“I like you, I dunno if I mentioned that?” Yoongi mumbled against Jimin’s mouth.
Jimin’s smile was slow and soft, his eyes half shut as he continued to press kisses to Yoongi’s lips. “You could mention it again, just in case.”
So Yoongi did. Gladly. He had some time to make up for, after all.