AU: Underground rappers Agust D and RM have had an unspoken fued thats spanned years, always hinting at each other in their lyrics, never fully saying it.

Then Agust D crosses the line and calls him "Namjoonie" in his rap, on stage, for all to hear, to Namjoon's embarrassment.
Namjoon decides the only way to handle this is confrontation, something they'd always avoided, only ever sharing looks from across the room after their stages, never talking, never approaching.

Namjoon couldn't help himself, as he stalked towards the change room, furious.
It was time to put Yoongi in his place, once and for all.
(this is gonna be consensual, but i think we're gonna have some mean words thrown about because they "hate" each other, so keep that in mind pls! ✨)
Namjoon couldn't even remember what the lyrics were, couldn't even remember what Yoongi had said about him, what Agust D had spat in that mic.

He could only recall the sneer on those pink lips, the narrowing of sleepy eyes.

The "Namjoonie" tainted with laughter in his tone.
Namjoon was a regular at the bar where the performances took place, coming once a week with his friends, and once a month to battle it out on the microphone for a cash prize.

Namjoon had never won, but it was always fun, always something that made his heart race--
Until Yoongi came along, Min Yoongi, Agust D, whatever the fuck he wanted to be called.

All the way from Daegu, cleaning up every soul on that stage without blinking, lyrics perfect and mean, voice rough and emotive, leaving them all in the dust.
At first, Namjoon had kinda idolised the guy, thought he was cool, someone to look up to maybe, someone to befriend.

But at some point that idolization had twisted, and Namjoon started to crave something else, something he'd yet to taste.



But Yoongi was too good, never let anyone else get close.

Namjoon started to hate it.

Maybe not Yoongi, not at first, but it fucking sucked, each month spent hunched over his notebooks, trying to come up with something good, something to shake Yoongi's crown from his head.
It seemed impossible, unachievable.

And that's when the games seemed to have started.

Namjoon was working hard, was becoming better, and Yoongi seemed to notice, watching RM perform, never blinking, eyes full of something dark, maybe something angry, Namjoon didn't know.
Months of this soon turned into a year, and then nearly too, and everyone who came to watch, came to listen, knew something was up between them.

"Sexual tension" Hoseok once said, returned with a punch in the arm from Namjoon, who told him to shut the fuck up.

It wasn't that.
No way.

Yoongi was an asshole.

Attractive? M-maybe.

But still, an asshole.

Namjoon didn't remember the words he'd written, when he first came for Yoongi, but he knew it was enough to start the war between them.
He vaguely recalls the words "barbie blonde" and "sex doll", but... maybe his memory was wrong, who knows.

Yoongi didn't like it though.

Yoongi roasted him alive the next month around, and Namjoon had sulked out of the bar like a kicked puppy, sad, but determined.
Namjoon came back with fire in his gut, watched Yoongi writhe in the audience, watched those feline eyes stare beneath his scuffed cap, watched that button nose twitch.

Ah, it was so fun, it was.

Almost worth Yoongi obliterating him with his bars, growled angrily into the mic.
"This is getting kinda fucked up," Hoseok laughed with him one night, sipping at his lemon water, never drinking at the bar with the rest. "You sure you're not into like... being slapped around?"

"No, I'm not into being slapped around."

"What about dick stepping?"

"You get up on that stage once a month, run your mouth at Agust D, and then he makes you lick his shoes clean. Basically."

"I don't lick his shoes clean."

"You kinda do."

Namjoon frowned, chugging down his beer.

"It's rap. It doesn't go deeper than that."

"Uh huh."
Maybe it went deeper, though, something Namjoon didn't admit out loud, to himself, to anyone.

Maybe Yoongi's presence followed him home, followed him into his sleep, haunting his dreams, taunting him with pretty lips and pretty eyes, sneering.

Namjoon hated those dreams.
He hated that they'd never spoken to one another, that whenever the mics were switched off, whenever the winner was named and the cash was given, Yoongi was gone from the bar, never sticking around.
Namjoon couldn't tell what was worse- Yoongi hovering in the bar to rub in his victory, laughing with friends, swallowing back drinks.

Or the fact that Yoongi just left every time, like this was nothing to him, just something fun to do on a Saturday night.

Namjoon couldnt tell.
All he knew is that it made him angry, and anger made him stupid.

He couldn't recall the lyrics, but he knew it pushed Yoongi too far.

The look in those eyes scared Namjoon, for a second, and then Yoongi was leaving the bar, back turned, gone, gone, gone.
Yoongi had won, wasn't there to collect, but it felt like a victory in Namjoon's court this time, it really did.

Namjoon didn't think about what next month would bring, even though Hoseok's eyes were wide with worry, even though Hoseok was staring at Namjoon like he was insane.
"You not coming this time?" Namjoon asked Hoseok over the phone, picking his nails nervously, staring at his outfit laid on his bedspread.


"Why not?"

"I don't wanna be a witness for tonight's murder."

"It's gonna be fine. Please come?"


Hoseok didn't budge, no matter how much Namjoon whined, no matter how many cute nicknames he used, how many bribes he tried.

"I'm staying home with Netflix and soda, and you should come over and join me. Don't go tonight, Namjoon. Don't."

Namjoon went anyways.

Fuck Yoongi.
I'm not scared.

He's not going to rattle me, not tonight, not ever.

Oh how very, very wrong Namjoon was.

They'd been doing this dance for so long, that Namjoon had even considered that THAT line could be crossed.

Didn't think it was possible.

But it was.
They never said each others names, only every vaguely referenced the other rapper, while keeping heated eye contact, of course.

Namjoon was sure the regular audience knew, but for anyone just listening and enjoying the music, maybe it was their little secret.

No names, never.
Until this night, the night where Namjoon didn't have Hoseok, the night where Namjoon came and performed with pride, with fire, with determination to prove to Yoongi he wasn't scared, wasn't scared of this tiny blonde man and his lyrics, no matter how clever, how mean.
Everything Yoongi said into the mic, everything he growled and spat and laughed, all became forgotten white noise, when that one word spilled past dry, doll lips.


It took too long to recognise it, as his own name, and when he finally did, it turned him blind.
Blind with rage, with surprise, with something dark and red and hot, making his body lock up like he was frozen while his insides melted into his toes.

Namjoon couldn't even blink or swallow, seeing Yoongi's knowing sneer, seeing people turn to look at him.

Couldnt breathe.

No RM, no Joon.

No Namjoon.


The name he'd been called only by close friends, by lovers, a sweet nickname, soft, romantic even.

And here Yoongi was, Agust D, in his bleached hair and stupid cap and giant stupid shirt--

Calling him Namjoonie.

Whatever preceded his name was gone from his mind, but everyone else was giggling, was giving him a look, like the time he'd fallen in highschool and torn his pants open.

They were laughing at him, and Yoongi was up there, on that stage, dropping the mic, and leaving.

It took Namjoon far too long to unfreeze from where he stood, pushing through the crowd, teeth grit angrily as he stalked towards the back rooms.

Yoongi always had the end room for himself, reserved it or some bullshit, not mingling with the others. Namjoon hated that too.
Like Yoongi was too good for them.

Like he was too fucking good.

God, Namjoon hated him so much.

He didn't even knock, just shoved the door open angrily, the word "Namjoonie" ringing in his ears in Yoongi's deep, mocking tone.

He should have knocked on the door.

Yoongi was in a state of undress, eyes wide as his head whipped around to the sound, cap gone, blonde hair a mess, plastered to his forehead with sweat.

And that's when Namjoon noticed them, peeking out from beneath the hem of that giant shirt, pants discarded on the floor.

White lace, frilly and sweet, hidden beneath his shirt, which Yoongi tugged down fast.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Yoongi hissed, flushing red quickly, so fast it made Namjoon tingle, watching it flood down his pale neck.
"Uhh," Namjoon felt lost now, the peek of lace having confused him, not sure what he'd barged in here to do. "What are you wearing?"

"Clothes, dipshit."

"No, like." Namjoon swallowed loudly, pressing himself against the closed door, suddenly nervous. "I saw... frills."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Namjoon was left mortified, wondering why the fuck he'd said it.

Yoongi was gonna yell at him, was gonna get angry, and he was gonna get thrown out of the bar for barging in here, for not knocking, for trying to start a fight--
But Yoongi didn't yell, didn't call someone in, to take away the intruder in his dressing room.

He did something Namjoon didn't anticipate for, and lifted the hem of his shirt, showcasing creamy skin, a peek of pretty panties, clinging to slim hips.

What the fuck.
"This?" Yoongi asked, nonchalant, raising a dark brow beneath his glossy fringe. "Is this what you meant?"

"Umm," Namjoon's tongue felt so heavy in his mouth right now, everything feeling hot, skin burning, as he stared at the white fabric. "Yeah, that."

Yoongi scoffed.
"Didn't realise Namjoonie was such a fucking pervert."


That's right.


Fucking Namjoonie.

Namjoon growled, all the anger from before flooding back fast, with a vengeance, hands clenching into fists at his sides, shaking.
"You're the fucking pervert," Namjoon managed to spit back, sneering, nose scrunched, unsure of what he was feeling right now. "Did you have that on when you were on stage? Did you rap in those panties, Agust D?"

"Sure did," Yoongi had no shame, narrowing his eyes, smiling.
Namjoon didn't know what the fuck to do. He was so sure Yoongi would be embarrassed, was so sure Yoongi would cower away and beg Namjoon not to tell anyone.

But Yoongi didn't care.

"You gonna write about it?" He teased instead, shirt dropping back. "Gonna rap about my panties?"
Namjoon inhaled sharply.

"Gonna call me a sex doll again, Namjoonie? Gonna rap about how hard I make you? That's gotta be it right?"

"You fucking wish."

Yoongi laughed, leaning back against the dresser, the lights around the mirror making him glow.
"I don't have to wish," Yoongi let his gaze drag down Namjoon's body, so slowly that it hurt, that it made Namjoon fidget. "I can see your dick in your fucking jeans, dipshit. Can't believe a scrap of lace gets you this excited, how sad--"

"Shut the fuck up."

Namjoon stepped forward, closer, again, again, hoping to wipe that smirk from Yoongi's lips, hoping to intimidate the smaller rapper, just enough.

But Yoongi's grin grew wider instead, and Namjoon didn't know what to do. This wasn't how it was meant to go down. This wasn't--
"Getting a bit close there, Namjoonie," Yoongi's voice dipped, deep, low, almost a murmur.

"Don't call me that."

"Is that why you came here? Didn't you like that?"

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, teeth gritting, slamming his hands on the table behind Yoongi, caging him in.
Yoongi didn't flinch, didn't budge an inch. Namjoon tried to forget that Yoongi had no pants on right now, that the only thing hiding those lacy panties was a shirt 5 times to big for the blond man before him.

It was hard to forget, and Yoongi knew, Namjoon could tell.

It was a sweet coo, like the way a lover would say it, and Yoongi laughed, softly, eyes sparkling with mirth.


Meaner this time, enough to have Namjoon's eyes twitching, said like a school bully would, before pushing him into the lockers.


Enough, enough.

Namjoon knew he shouldn't have done it, but his hands moved before his mind caught up, fingers coming to wrap around Yoongi's neck, not to hurt, just to hold.

The noise Yoongi let out had Namjoon throbbing in his jeans.

A whimper. Soft, startled.

Namjoon had never seen Yoongi's eyes go so wide before, and they looked so pretty.

But then that fierceness was back, and Yoongi was sneering again, all signs of softness erased like it never happened. Namjoon could feel Yoongi's pulse beneath his palm, and it was hot.
"Wow, you really didn't like that, did you?"

"Just shut up Yoongi, shut the FUCK up."

"You started it," Yoongi hissed, swallowing beneath Namjoon's grip. "You threw the first shade, or don't you remember? You deserved tonight. You deserved it all."
It was infuriating, because Yoongi was kinda right.

Namjoon had been the first one to throw shade, to talk shit, to rap about the other man because he'd be jealous, because he wanted to see if he could shake Agust D, knock him down a peg.

He hadn't expected the retaliation.
Namjoon hadn't expected Yoongi to eat him alive on that stage, month after month, and it was embarrassing.


Made Namjoon feel so many, many things.

Yoongi's pulse was still thrumming beneath his touch though, and they were so close, so fucking close--
Namjoon didn't want to lose, not to Yoongi, to Agust D, not at any of these games. Yoongi could beat him on stage, take the prize money, whatever--

But Namjoon was bigger, and Namjoon was stronger.

And Yoongi was almost naked, in fucking lingerie, blinking up with sleepy eyes.
Namjoon squeezed a little, not hard enough to cut off air, but just enough for Yoongi to jerk, for his eyes to widen slightly, that smirk wavering, just a little.

"So fucking annoying," Namjoon hissed, stepping closer still, cock hard beneath denim. "You make me so angry."
"Good," Yoongi breathed back, voice shattered slightly from Namjoon's touch. "I like it when you're angry."

Namjoon's pressed a little tighter, and Yoongi made that delicious sound again, a small, tiny whimper.

"You like it?"

"Yeah," Yoongi gasped. "It's so... hilarious--"
Oh, Namjoon wanted to kill him.

"You think this is hilarious?"

Namjoon pressed harder, probably too hard around Yoongi's pale throat, but the elder only giggled, eyelashes fluttering, and Namjoon tried not to get distracted by sweet freckles appearing beneath blushed cheeks.
"Yes," Yoongi's voice was rough, like it was on stage, and for some reason that had heat flooding down Namjoon's spine fast. "It's so f u c k i n g hilarious, Namjoonie, that I can make you angry enough to put your hands on me, angry enough to stalk me down after my set."
Namjoon flinched when a hand pressed to his cock, Yoongi's hand so warm, cupping him over fabric, squeezing hard enough to make Namjoon swallow back a yelp. Yoongi grinned, lips shiny with spit.

"I can't believe you got this hard over a bit of lace and choking. That's so sad."
Namjoon didn't know what to say, didn't know what to say--

"Are you a virgin?" Yoongi whispered, looking sly, looking out of breath and all fucked out. "It's okay if you are Joonie, you can be honest."

"Fuck you," Namjoon growled, releasing Yoongi's throat as he pulled away.
"You wanna? Is that why you started shit with me? Did you want some attention, big boy?"

Namjoon didn't dare whine, when Yoongi squeezed at his cock again. Didn't fucking dare.

"I don't need anything from you."

"Then why the fuck are you in my changing room, huh?"
"You knew I was gonna come find you, after what you said," Namjoon was ready to fight back now, now that his hand wasn't around Yoongi's throat, making the smaller man pliant and blushed and all too distracting. "Bet you put those panties on just for this, right? That's slutty."
Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You think these were for you?"

Namjoon hoped they were.

Yoongi laughed.

"These are for me."

Yoongi let his hand drop from Namjoon's crotch, and Namjoon wished he hadn't, god, he wished he hadn't.
"I wear them on stage because it makes me feel powerful," and that had Namjoon hot all over, wondering if Yoongi wore them every month, if it was only the one pair, or maybe more, in different styles. "Makes me feel powerful, to put you in your place while wearing them, Joonie."
"Makes me feel so fucking good," Yoongi continued, leaning back against the table, Namjoon spotting redness around his throat from where his fingers had been. "To wear them while I murder you on that fucking stage."

"I hate you," was all Namjoon could say. "I fucking hate you."
Yoongi smiled, a proper smile, sweet and gummy, eyes bunching up cutely.

"I don't care."

Namjoon stormed out as fast as he could, dick still hard, something prickling in his eyes that definitely could not be tears. Not a fucking chance.

The night was warm, and Namjoon was pulling out his phone quickly, wishing his boner away as he wiped the definitely not tears from his eyes, dialing Hoseok.

It rang twice before the elder picked up.

"Yo Joonie, how'd you go?... Oh, shit, are you crying?"
"Not crying," Namjoon tried to breathe normally, even though his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his ribcage. "I... a bug flew in my eye."



There was a weird pause, before Hoseok cleared his throat.

"Hey, I'm lonely... You should come hang out."
It was well past midnight, and Hoseok had work the next day. Namjoon sniffled a little.

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Yeah, in fact, you need to come over immediately, and also stay the night, because I think maybe the flat is haunted and I'm scared. So, hurry up okay?"
Hoseok was truly the nicest person alive, sensing Namjoon's sadness, not wanting to let on at all.

"Okay, I'll catch a taxi, be there in 15. Don't let the ghost get you."

"I think there is actually two ghosts."

"Well, be extra careful then."

"Yes sir!"
Namjoon didn't intend to cry for an hour on Hoseok's couch, in pjs that were a little too tight, clutching a pillow to his chest, but somehow it happened, and Hoseok patted his knee with sympathy.

"He c-called me N-Namjoonie on the stage," Namjoon whined. "Asshole--"
"Jesus," Hoseok winced, patting with more ethusiasm as if that would make Namjoon feel better. "I thought you guys just like... alluded to each other."

"W-we did! He b-broke the rules--"

"I'll arrest him for you, how about that? Throw his cheating ass in jail?"
Namjoon didn't mean to picture Yoongi in handcuffs, in his lingerie, pressed up against cold cell bars. But it was there in his mind, just for a second, and he wanted to scream.

"Hoseok," Namjoon slammed his eyes shut, sighing. "I... went after him, a-afterwards."
Hoseok paused.

"What do you mean, you went after him?"

"I... followed him, into his changing room, I wanted to confront him."

"Oh no, I hate this already."

"He was getting undressed."

"Ahh, no, Joonie, I hate it."

"He was in lacy panties."

Hoseok froze.

"I'm-- what?"
"Panties?" Namjoon dropped his voice a little, glancing away with shame, embarrassed that he was getting hard again at the memory, with his best friend right across from him. "Like... w-white ones? With lace and frills?"

Hoseok looked like his soul had departed from his body.
"Nah," was all Hoseok finally replied, closing his eyes. "I think maybe... you were seeing things."

"He pulled his shirt to show me better. They had ribbons on them."

"Are you sure you're not confusing real life for a porno?"

"He told me he likes to wear them on stage."

Hoseok swallowed loudly.

"Are you sure this isn't.... your imagination?"

"No Hobi, he was wearing fucking panties, and he touched my dick and I choked him! I think, I don't know, I didn't wanna like... hurt him proper, only a bit."

"Wait, holy shit, what?"

"I don't KNOW."
"Back up Joonie, tell me the story in proper order. Did you guys fuck?"


"Are you sure?"

"We didn't fuck, oh my god--"

A weird pause, as Hoseok stared him down.

"Did... you want to? Fuck him?"

Namjoon wanted to fuck Yoongi.

He also wanted to kill Yoongi.

"Never. Ew."
"Uh huh," Hoseok narrowed his eyes, squinting hard. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm tired." Namjoon didn't wanna talk about this anymore, wanted to sleep, wanted this night to be over.

Hoseok sighed, nodding, looking a little perplexed, but they went to bed anyways, sharing Hoseok's queen.
Namjoon awoke to an empty bed, a text from Hoseok that said "help urself to food if you want, u can hang out until Im done at work and ill take ya for food", and that sounded way too tempting to pass up.

But Namjoon was feeling weird, sad, and sleep refused to take him back.
Namjoon wandered Hoseok's flat aimlessly before deciding to throw on the television, watching the children's cartoons with bleary eyes and no focus, chewing down cereal mindlessy, feeling numb all over.

Last night had been a nightmare, and Namjoon remembered it all so clearly.
Yoongi, on the stage, light up by the spotlight.

Yoongi, in the changing room, almost naked and flushed pink.

Yoongi in his cap and chains, growling into the mic.

Yoongi in lace panties, gasping around Namjoon's hand.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.
It pissed Namjoon off, that he was hard all over again, in Hoseok's pjs, on Hoseok's couch, eating Hoseok's cereal. It really pissed him off.

It's not Yoongi, Namjoon tried to convince himself. It's not him.

I'm just sexually frustrated, that must be it.

Not because of Yoongi.
Never because of Yoongi.

Namjoon decided to wash away his worries, among other things, down the drain in Hoseok's shower. It wasn't even the first time he'd ever jerked off in there, but it was the weirdest, hand around his cock, lubed up with soap suds, frowning as he stroked.
He didn't want to think of Yoongi, but that fucker was not leaving his thoughts, no matter how hard Namjoon tried to divert it to something else, anything else.

So, he let it happen, fucking himself into his fist, trhinking of white lace, picturing creamy thighs, blonde hair.
But he wanted Yoongi to suffer, so he pictured Yoongi being pressed hard into the table in that changing room, pictured him whining, pictured him sobbing--

And then imaginary Yoongi was crying out a broken "Namjoonie", and Namjoon was cumming into his hand with a surprised wail.
Namjoon scrubbed himself down with Hoseok's expensive lavender shower gel three time to try and wash away what just happened, to see if he could wash it from his mind, to get the image of Yoongi in those panties following his mess down the drain--

But it didn't work.
The day ticked by and nothing worked, no food nor television program, not even a slow stroll in the park near Hoseok's house.

Yoongi was trapped in there, taunting him from behind his eyelids, and it was making Namjoon hot all over, making him feel insane with anger.
It wasn't meant to go down the way it did, Yoongi was supposed to cower in fear and apologise in that changing room, was supposed to flinch when Namjoon slammed that door behind him, was supposed to become small, frightened, tiny.
But Yoongi's persona on stage was true in real life too, and Yoongi didn't back down, didn't take shit, didn't shy away even though his rival caught him in fucking frilly underwear, and it was that, that made Namjoon angriest, if he was truly honest with himself.
It made him angry, because if the roles had been reversed, if Yoongi had walked in on Namjoon in a state of undress, in women's panties, in something so strange and striking and sexy--

Namjoon would have dropped to his knees and begged Yoongi not to tell.

In a heartbeat.
Namjoon would have been horrified, where Yoongi hadn't given a shit.

Namjoon would have cried, where Yoongi had lifted the hem of his shirt, and shown Namjoon what was beneath it all.

Namjoon would have died, but Yoongi seemed to revel in it, and that wasn't fucking fair.
When Hoseok finally came home, Namjoon was back on the couch, trying to get engrossed in a documetary about tapeworms, wishing it was gross enough to drive his mind away from the blond rapper, failing miserably.

Hoseok didn't even get out a hello before Namjoon was whining.
"My dick has been hard like, all day."

"Wow," Hoseok threw his bag on the dining table, shrugging himself from his jacket. "That is way too much information."

"But it's SO annoying, I don't know what to do about it. I'm pretty sure I jerked off about five times and still!"
"Not in the shower, right?"

"...Of course not."

"Did you eat yet?"

Namjoon pouted.


"Do you wanna go out and get something for dinner? Take your mind off your boner or whatever for a bit?"

"Ohh, yes. I want pancakes."

"For dinner?"


"Okay, get ready then."
The place they got pancakes had a foreign name Namjoon couldn't pronouce, but they made tall, fluffy stacks that Namjoon could devour in an instant, and all the jacking off had given him a craving for something sugary and intense.
By the time their food arrived at the table, the sky was turning purple, and small stars twinkled from behind clouds. Hoseok stabbed at a strawberry.

"So, what's the plan now?"

Namjoon felt syrup run down his chin.


"Yeah," Hoseok blinked. "For next month. For Yoongi."
"Uhh," Namjoon pushed another forkful of pancake past his sugared lips. "I'm going to destroy him, I guess."

"LIke sexually?"

It took everything within Namjoon not to choke on his food and get a boner beneath the table.

"Gross, no, no, no. I meant, lyrically!"

Hoseok hummed.
"I thought you said you had a hard on all day or something."

"It was... unrelated to Yoongi."

"Was it from the tapeworm documentary?"

"I am eating, hyung, please, don't talk about tapeworms."

Hoseok shrugged.

"It's okay, if its about Yoongi. I won't judge. I get it."
Namjoon didn't like that.

"What do you mean, you 'get it'?"

There was something mischevious glittering in Hoseok's pretty eyes.

"Agust D is hot, Namjoonie. He could rail me raw, panties and all, and I would ask for more and more and more."

Namjoon did not like that. One. Bit.
"He's not hot. He's..."

Namjoon waved his hands around, trying to find the words.

"He's hot, it's okay."

"His hair is too blonde. He looks weird."

"Like a barbie blonde sex doll?"

"I don't know where those lyrics came from."

"They came from your penis, Namjoon."

Namjoon let out a big sigh, and rolled his head back against the chair, slamming his eyes shut.

"I can't believe he touched my dick and he was wearing panties."

Hoseok giggled, and stole a berry from Namjoon's plate.

"Yeah, neither can I. Maybe he likes you, deep down, hey?"
Namjoon scoffed, not entertaining the idea at all.

"Doubt that."

"Eat your food before it gets cold, we gotta get you home."


Namjoon's bed was still an unmade mess by the time he stumbled into his room, tired, cranky, knowing he had work in the morning.
He brushed his teeth, laid out his uniform, and then tore his clothes away, climbing into the mess of duvets and sheets naked, like he always did in his own home.

Words flashed through his head as sleep picked away at his brain, words for Yoongi, words to be pulled into lyrics.
Mean words, words that were cruel even, and Namjoon didn't like them, but they flickered in and out, like a small light turning on and off, out of reach, as sleep took over.

Usually, he didn't dream, and if he did, they were only blurs, things that he could never give form to.
But this night, he dreamed of Yoongi, Yoongi beneath him, Yoongi's milky skin growing red and dark with every slap that Namjoon gave.

It looked pretty, like flowers blooming, and Namjoon wanted to bite it.

Yoongi was crying, but he sounded euphoric, and Namjoon slapped again.
"You're a whore," Namjoon recognised his own voice, rough and gritty, like when he was on stage. He recognised his hand, gripping the flesh of Yoongi's ass, watching it jiggle beneath pink underwear. "I'm going to make you hurt."

"Please," Yoongi whined, begged. "Please."
"I'll fuck you on the stage, face down like a bitch," Namjoon wanted to bite him, wanted to mark him more. "I'll show them all what you really are."

Dream Yoongi laughed at this, bitterly, and it make Namjoon break out in a cold sweat, like he was shattering apart.
"I don't care."

The words from Yoongi's lips made Namjoon jolt awake, the sheets damp from his sweat, the corners of his eyes burning from it as he groaned. His dick was hard between his thighs and it hurt, but wasn't aroused, didn't want to touch.
He wanted to cry.

He wanted to cry because Yoongi didn't care, not in real life, not in his fucked up dreams, and Namjoon cared too much, cared enough to let it haunt him, like a guillotine hanging over his head, ready to fall at any moment.
Yoongi didn't give a shit about him, and that hurt. It hurt.

Namjoon stared down at where his cock tented the covers, squinted from the sweat pooling in the corners of his eyes, and growled angrily, pulling himself from the bed in a rage, throwing on his sweatpants.
I will make him care, Namjoon thought, pen to paper, at his messy desk, lamp on, brows furrowed.

I will MAKE him care about me, about what I have to say.

I will destroy him on that stage, one way or another.

I will shake that crown from his stupid fucking head.
Watch out Min Yoongi, Namjoon let his hand scribble in tandem with his thoughts, body on auto pilot, despite how tired he was.

I'm coming for you, for real this time.

No more Mr. Nice Namjoonie.

I'll make you fucking care.
It took the next week to perfect his lyrics, to source his beats and thread it all together, working hard after work shifts, going home with motivation after hang outs with Hoseok.

It was all mean, angry words, and every time he practiced, he wondered how Yoongi would react.
Is he gonna be angry? Namjoon thought, picking out his outfit, two weeks in advance. Is he gonna try and pick a fight?

Namjoon laid his clothes out on his bed, pondering hard, trying to match the blacks of his pants and his jackets, aware he was being hyper critical.
Maybe he'll cry, Namjoon wondered, and that made him feel a bit bad, a bit shitty, the image of Yoongi leaving the bar, tears in his soft eyes. Namjoon shook that away fast.

No, it doesn't matter. He doesn't care. I don't care.

All I care about is winning this time. That's it.
"You're gonna come this time right?" Namjoon asked Hoseok, laying on the elder's couch, popcorn shoved into his mouth greedily as a movie blared. This was their usual shenanigans on a Friday-- shit food and shit movies.

Hoseok perked up, suddenly alert, gasping.
"Shit, I can't, I totally forgot!"

"Forgot what?"

Hoseok grinned, but it wobbled with nerves, fingers lacing together as if he didn't know what to do with them.

"I... have a date?"

Namjoon gasped, shooting up from where he lay.

"Wait, really?? With... h-him?"
Hoseok nodded shyly, and Namjoon let out a long, weird wail.


The object of Hoseok's affections for the last year and more, a regular customer at Hoseok's cafe, the man Hoseok talked about in ways that should make Namjoon sick but instead made him giddy.

Seokjin. Him.
"Oh my god, Hobi, it's true love!"

Hoseok blushed and laughed, waving his hands around.

"No, no, it's just... like, dinner with some of his friends, and then karaoke?"

"It's love, oh, I can feel it in my bones, you're gonna marry each other!"

"Please calm down Joonie."
Hoseok cleared his throat, and gave Namjoon the saddest puppy eyes he could muster.

"I'm sorry I forgot about the rap battle, I must have got my Saturdays mixed up, so I can cancel, if you want some extra support--"

"Not a fucking chance, you've wanted this date for so long."
"Are you sure? Maybe you need some extra supervision, after last time."

"I don't need supervision hyung."

"I mean... you did nearly fuck Agust D."

"I didn't! I wouldn't touch him with a 10 foot pole!"

"He grabbed your dick and was wearing panties! You let that happen!"
"I... was caught off guard, t-that's all!"

Hoseok sighed.

"I really don't mind rescheduling with Jin, if you change your mind, you know that right? You're my #1 Joonie, always and always, yeah?"

Namjoon felt warmth swell in his chest.

They spent the rest of the night going over outfits, something for Hoseok to wear on his date, and Hoseok's expertise towards Namjoon's stage outfit, Hoseok suggesting sunglasses, so Namjoon could watch for reactions without being seen.

"You're a fucking genuis."

"Oh, I know."
Namjoon went to sleep in Hoseok's bed satisfied, reading over his lyrics over and over until his eyes got heavy, and his dreams were soft, empty, peaceful and sweet, everything feeling perfect.

And then, upon waking, Namjoon found that distaster had struck during the night.
"They cancelled the fucking battle!" Namjoon raced into the kitchen, phone in hand, Hoseok choking on his toast from the surprise. "Fuck, fuck!"

"Hey, it's okay Joon, it's okay... you can just perform your stuff next time, right?"

Namjoon sighed angrily, eyes screwed shut.
"I wanted this over," Namjoon whined, hands over his eyes, sinking to his knees. "I was so ready to kick his fucking ass, and now I have to wait another month? This is fucking cruel."

"Why'd they cancel it?"

"Renovations or something," Namjoon spat bitterly. "Goddamn it."
Hoseok joined Namjoon on the floor, giving him and awkward hug.

"I'm so sorry Namjoon, but it's gonna be okay yeah? More time to prepare, maybe we can even find you a cool hat to match your sunglasses?"

Namjoon sniffled.

"Yeah? A cool hat?"

"Yeah, a really cool one."
Namjoon pouted.

"That sounds good, hyung. Thank you, and sorry for uhh, scaring you."

"It's fine, don't worry, don't worry."

Then something mischevious glimmered in Hoseok's eyes.

Oh no.

"Hey uh, since you're free that Saturday now... c-can you come with me? On the date?"
"Wouldn't that be weird?"

"Nah, it's like a group thing, and all his friends are coming. And he's like... kinda well off? Like, rich, and so are they? I'm honestly super nervous."

It was rare for Hoseok to be nervous, so Namjoon knew he had to go, had to help his precious Hobi.
And so, it was decided, and Namjoon went home to lay out a new outfit, hanging his battle garments back in the wardrobe, wondering where he'd be able to buy a cool hat.

The week raced by fast, and by the time Saturday rolled around, Hoseok was a bouncing ball of anxiety.
"I'm gonna puke, he's never seen me outside my work uniform Joonie, what if he hates my style??"

"Then he's not worth it hyung."

"You don't get it," Hoseok reached up to shake Namjoon by the shoulders, waiting for their taxi in the living room of Hoseok's flat. "He's so hot."
Namjoon raised a brow. Hoseok had... questionable taste in a lot of things; clothing, food, television, and Namjoon was 100% sure his taste in men would be the same.

"Like, the hottest person on the planet. And tall too. And REALLY funny. I might puke on him. Is this too pink?"
Hoseok pulled at his sweater. Namjoon shook his head.

"It's the right amount of pink."

"You don't know anything about fashion! Oh god, it's too pink, I need to change--"

A car honked, and Namjoon was tempted to scoop Hoseok up and carry him outside himself.
Hoseok was a jittering mess the entire car ride, and when they got dropped off at the restaurant Seokjin had suggested, Hoseok shook his head.


"You can, it's gonna be okay! I'm here, I've got you hyung! We're gonna have fun, eat and sing and get you kissed!"

"I will carry you in there over my shoulder, so help me god Hoseok."

Hoseok looked like he was gonna cry.

"My sweater is too pink, he's gonna laugh at me. He wears real brands Joonie, and all his friends are gonna be there. I found this in a second hand store for Gods sake!"
Namjoon grabbed Hoseok by the face, stared him right in the eyes and frowned.

"That makes it special, and that makes it yours. And he likes you and his friends will like you, and if anyone is gonna get their clothes laughed at, it's me, right?"

Hoseok blinked twice.
"You... do look like you've been living in the wilderness for a few weeks."

"You can say I look homeless, it's okay."

"Like... fashionably homeless though."

"I like browns. And comfort."

Hoseok pouted.

"And hyung likes bright colours and being cute. We are fashion icons."
"Oh, that makes me feel cool."

"You ARE cool, and Jin and his friends are gonna see that and wish they were you. So, lets get some food and make some new friends, okay? No more sadness and stress. Only spaghetti and garlic bread for the rest of the night."

The first thing that Namjoon noticed, upon entering the restaurant and being led to the reserved booth, was that Hobi wasn't lying.

Jin was handsome, was SO tall when he stood up to greet them, and bold too, if the kiss he planted on Hoseok's stunned lips was anything to go by.
Hoseok squeaked in surprise, flushed as pink as his sweater in an instant, and Namjoon wanted to laugh, but it was way too cute.

"Hello Hoseok," Jin smiled, all plump lips and perfect dark hair "You look so pretty tonight. Is this your friend?"

Hoseok looked love drunk.
"Uh, y-yeah," Hobi stuttered, still trying to recover from the kiss, smiling like he'd won the lottery. "This is Namjoon, Namjoon, t-this is Jin hyung."

"Nice to meet yo--"
The second thing Namjoon noticed was Yoongi, approaching from behind Seokjin, coming up from where the restrooms were.

Oh no, no no no.

But... it was weird.

Was that actually Yoongi??

Namjoon froze on the spot, confused, trying to take it in, all while Hoseok caught on to the situation quickly, eyes growing wide.

Yoongi didn't look like the Yoongi on the stage, didn't look like the infamous Agust D right now.
Yoongi was in white-washed denim jeans, Yoongi was in a sweater that reached his thighs, fluffy and downy, the colour of cotton candy.

Yoongi's blonde hair was brushed flat and glossy, and he looked like a porcelain fucking doll.

This can't be Min Yoongi, this can't be--
"Oh, this is Yoongi!" Jin introduced, and Namjoon felt his jaw snap shut, teeth clenching. "Yoongi, this is Hobi, and his friend, uhh--"


"Namjoon! That's right! The others should be here soon, Jimin texted about 5 minutes ago. Shall we sit?"

Namjoon wanted to die.
It was the most awkward thing he'd ever experienced, pressed against the wall of the booth, Yoongi across from him, glaring at him like he was trying to burn a hole right through Namjoon's skull.

Namjoon's phone buzzed on the table and he reached for it as Hobi sat beside him.
I'm so sorry, the text from Hoseok read, Hoseok giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes ever in person and emoji form. I didn't know.

It's fine, Namjoon texted back, holding in his sigh. This is your night, and as long as you have fun, then so will I.

Jin handed out menus.
"Whatever you guys want it's on me tonight! To celebrate new friendships!"

"What about the others?" Yoongi finally spoke, voice deep, such a contrast to his sweet outfit that Namjoon physically flinched. "They aren't here yet."

"Well, maybe they should have been on time, hm?"
It was hard to focus on the menu with Yoongi across from him, with Yoongi looking the way he did, skin clear and dewy, feline eyes dusted with something pink and shimmery. Namjoon wriggled in discomfort.

Eventually food was settled upon, and Jin got up to place the order.
Yoongi hissed at them from across the table.

"Not a single fucking word to Jin hyung, or the others, about this okay? Not a single fucking word."

"About this?" Namjoon was grateful Hoseok spoke up, because he himself was totally lost for words. "You mean... the fluffy sweater?"
"No, I mean the rapping, the bar," Yoongi flushed with shame, glancing around, checking Jin wasn't on his way back. "They don't know. I don't want them to know."

For some reason, that made Namjoon angry.

"Why? Are you ashamed that you rap?"

Yoongi glared, and it was scary.
"It's none of your fucking business, Namjoonie."

Jin was back at the table before anymore words could be exchanged.

"Taehyung and the others still not here?"

Yoongi put on a soft smile immediately, and Namjoon didn't like it.

"Not yet hyung. Should we call them?"
Jin called them, lots of "uh huh, uh huh, uh huh's" and then hung up with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"So, they're not coming anymore. Apparently Jungkook tried to do a handstand against a wall, and ended up breaking a finger. They're gonna take him to the ER."
Yoongi looked alarmed, an expression Namjoon had never seen before, and pulled out his own phone fast. The case had a picture of a cat pulling the rude finger, hidden by glitter that shifted with every tap of fingers.

"Should we go with them?" Yoongi asked, brows raised.
"No," Jin sighed, another eye roll. "They're fine, that was actually him on the phone. Can't believe it."

"That's like the second time this year. He's gotta stop doing that."

"Energetic moron."

Namjoon and Hoseok sat there awkwardly.

"Should we leave?" Hoseok asked timidly.
"No, love, it's fine, they're always like this, Jungkook is always in the ER. We can still have a nice night, just the four of us? Kinda like a double date!"

"He's always in the ER?"

"Oh yes, he'll try and do handstands on anything."

Hoseok giggled.

"He sounds fun."
It was awkward.

Seokjin had ordered wine, and Namjoon swung back a glass of it immediately, needing something to help him put up with Yoongi, the smaller man across the table, looking so cute that it was impossible for Namjoon to even try to deny it.
Jin and Hoseok were drinking happily too, and Yoongi sipped at his own glass politely, quiet, not uttering a sound.

"Yoongi's a bit shy," Jin remarked, pinching at Yoongi's round cheeks as the blond man blushed with embarrasment. "Just need to get some more wine in him!"
"Joonie is shy too," Hoseok pinched at Namjoon's cheek too, Namjoon frowning in distaste. "Want more to drink?"

"We're fine," the rappers said in unison, eyes going wide in shock, turning to stare at each other. Jin burst into laughter.

"That was so in sync, you guys are cute!"
Namjoon was now regretting coming along to help Hoseok, with Hoseok joining in with Jin on whatever the fuck the two older men were doing. It seemed like they were both light weights, tipsy before the food even arrived, and that was making them giddy and silly.
Luckily, they started to pay more attention to each other, leaving Namjoon and Yoongi to mope in their own silence, eating without glancing up, Namjoon trying hard to focus on the herbs in his pasta.

Wow these herbs are so good, Namjoon tried to forget Yoongi was there. So good.
That's when he felt the shoe.

Or more specifically, Yoongi's shoe, kicking him in the shin, from beneath the table.

Namjoon coughed in surprise, spluttering around his pasta.

He didn't miss the way Yoongi smirked.

"You okay?" Hoseok asked, eyes full of hearts, for Jin.
"Fine," he managed to choke out, eyes prickling with tiny, angry tears. "The herbs... wrong way--"

"Ahh, have some wine to wash them down, here Joonie."

"Thanks Hobi."

Namjoon shot Yoongi a glare, swallowing down the red wine hastily, and Yoongi raised a brow.

Oh, it was on.
Yoongi must have known too, because he only winced a little, when Namjoon kicked him back.

Fucker, Yoongi mouthed, fork in his hand like a weapon, eyes narrowed into catlike slits. Namjoon shrugged, sipped his wine, and tensed, waiting.
Yoongi waited 10 minutes, enough time for Namjoon to let his guard down, and sent out another kick, just a little harder, enough for Namjoon to yelp.

Hoseok was FAR too gone to even notice now, and Yoongi giggled a little, head down, shoulders bouncing as he laughed.
Namjoon kicked Yoongi back with both feet this time, and Yoongi gasped in pain, eyes screwed shut, hands clencing into fists as he leaned on the table for support. Namjoon felt awesome.


"Pasta's good," Yoongi hissed to Seokjin, give a weird smile "Best ever, tasty."
Namjoon waited for the counter attack.

He waited patiently, staring openly now, not daring to blink or touch his food, trying to keep an eye for any movement. Yoongi watched him too, cautiously, eyes narrowed, and the glitter there was almost distracting. Almost.
And then Yoongi was moving, lips curling into a sneer, and Namjoon tensed, waited for it, waited for a hard strike to his knees from pastel converse sneakers--

When Yoongi pressed a foot to his crotch, Namjoon jumped so high that the table shook, his wine almost spilliing.

Yoongi was watching him, wine glass in hand, lips parting, swallowing back the liquid slowly, and his foot pressed harder, harder, Namjoon unable to wriggle back or away from the pressure.

It pissed him off, that it felt fucking amazing.

It really pissed him off.
But there was no escape from it, no way to buck Yoongi's shoe off his slowly hardening dick, and Yoongi could tell too, eyebrows raised slightly, a small tongue peeking out, licking the wine from stained lips.

Namjoon wanted to drag him across the table top and fuck him raw.
Wanted to see him cry from it, wanted to see him writhe.

And then, Namjoon's mind went somewhere dangerous.

Oh my fucking god, Namjoon thought, dick so hard it hurt, twitching beneath his baggy pants. Oh my fucking god.

Is... Yoongi wearing panties right now?

....Is he?
Now that he recalled it all, an actual memory and not a fever induced dream of creamy thighs and slender hips pinched with white lace, Namjoon wanted to cry.

This Yoongi, this pastel, inverted Agust D, fluffy and sweet like a bowl of candy.... was he in lingerie under it all?
Glancing down briefly, Namjoon could see the pale purple of Yoongi’s converse sneaker, firm against his hard cock, not pressing any harder, just keeping Namjoon there, a captive to his shoe, and it was making it tricky to pull focus back to his food, his wine, away from Yoongi.
Yoongi's foot on him, with even the inkling of knowledge that Yoongi could be wearing something white and lacy beneath all that foreign pastel was making Namjoon feel short of breath, making his ribs hurt, making his skin burn as he tried to fight away his boner.

Yoongi smiled.
Namjoon wondered if Hobi would notice, if his friend decided to pull his gaze from Jin for an instant, if Hobi would see the cute shoe crushing his dick underneath the table.

Wondered if Hobi would ignore it, or say something.

Hobi would probably tease him, honestly.
But Hobi was chattering away cutely, totally unaware, and all Namjoon could do was pray Yoongi didn't toy with him too much like this, didn't make him cum in his stupid pants in front of everyone.

Yoongi looked like sin, sipping his drink, and it wasn't helping at all.
Any time Namjoon would shift his hips, try and startle Yoongi away, it would result in the sole of that shoe pressing harder, and Namjoon would be the one struggling to suppress a groan, struggling to breath, to think, to do anything that wasn't watching Yoongi torture him.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

Tortured as RM by Agust D, under all those bright lights and watching eyes, and now tortured here too, just as Namjoon.

Life is cruel, Namjoon thought, ignoring his food, ignoring his wine. I don't wanna cum in my pants from Yoongi's shoe.
When Jin spoke up, finally snapping his attention over, Namjoon nearly had a heart attack.

"Hobi tells me you like music, Namjoon?"

Yoongi's eyes went wide, as did Namjoon's, and they both glanced over, Hoseok hunching in on himself, aware he'd probably said too much.
"Uhh," and the shoe was still there, not as firm as before from the shock, but still there, still there. "Yeah, I uhh... write and compose my own s-stuff."

"That's so cool," Jin was giving him full attention now, and Namjoon wanted to die. "What sort of music?"

Yoongi glared.
Namjoon said it anyways.

"Rap. I... I c-compete in comps?"

Jin looked a little confused, and Hobi was staring at Namjoon now too, gaze flickering between the two rappers, Yoongi's glare so sharp it could probably cut.

"Wow, that must be hard Namjoon. Are you good?"
Yoongi looked downright murdereous in the moment, and Namjoon kinda wanted to stir him up.

"Yeah, I mean, I win every month? I guess that makes me good?"

Hoseok was biting his lip, looking scared, and Namjoon knew if they were anywhere else, Yoongi would kill him. On the spot.
"Amazing," Jin gasped, before swallowing down more wine. "What do you rap about? I don't really know how it works."

Yoongi's foot was still there, but Namjoon didn't care. It was his turn not to care, for the rapper across the table.

Namjoon shrugged in nonchalance.
"It depends I guess. Some people rap about money, fame, that kinda thing."

Yoongi was staring, unblinking, eyes dark and full of fury. Namjoon ignored how nervous he was.

"But I... I like to rap about the people I hate."
Namjoon expected Yoongi to push on his dick hard for that, but instead--

Yoongi pulled his foot away, and there was an anger in his eyes that Namjoon had never seen before, not when they were on stage, not even in the dressing room, when Namjoon had barged in on him changing.
Yoongi was fucking livid, and it was obvious to everyone except Seokjin, that the smaller man was doing everything in his power to keep his chill.

Namjoon felt regret immediately, but it didn't matter.

Dinner was nearly over, and they could leave, he could escape--
"I booked us a private karaoke room!" Seokjin piped up, and Namjoon remembered, mortified, that of course this was a two-course date. "Namjoon, you can rap for us! That'll be fun, hey? Some more drinks, and some singing? Seokie, love, do you like to sing?"

It was so awkward, shoved into Yoongi's side in the taxi, crushing him into the door, and it made Namjoon realise how much smaller the rapper truly was than himself, how tiny and dainty he looked.

Yoongi was uncomfortable though, and ignored him, which made Namjoon frown.
The karaoke place luckily wasn't far, and when they clambered out of the taxi, Namjoon tried not to stare at Yoongi's ass as he climbed out, tried not to wonder if he was wearing something cute beneath whitewashed denim.

Namjoon wanted to slap himself.

Stop thinking about it.
The karaoke place was fancy as fuck, and Hoseok and Namjoon shared a surprised glance, led inside by an excited Seokjin, who headed straight to the counter to confirm the reservation. They were given a room number, and then Seokjin was shoving them towards an elevator happily.
"We have to duet together," Jin's attention was back on Hoseok, an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Hoseok didn't blush often, so seeing it was weird for Namjoon, but it made him happy. Hoseok deserved it so much.

Yoongi was avoiding his gaze.
The room was on the top floor, so the elevator ride stretched for an eternity, and Namjoon hated that he was trying to catch Yoongi's eye, was trying to gauge a reaction.

He knew he shouldnt have lied, at the table.

He knew he shouldnt have stolen Yoongi's victories.
Yoongi couldn't even defend them, not wanting Seokjin to know about what he did, and while Namjoon didn't understand why, it was still a dick move.

Namjoon made a mental note, to find time to apologise, even though it felt wrong.

We are rivals.

We hate each other.
Yoongi said he doesn't care.

I don't want to care either, but I do.

The elevator dinged, and they left the tight space, following the signs on the walls, hearing muffled music permeate the hallways. Jin and Hobi were chatting happily, and Namjoon just felt like shit.
The karaoke room was pretty insane.

Dark and cozy with a giant couch beneath a window that had a view of the city, lit up with splashes of neon, a giant television on the wall. There was a phone there too, and a table in the middle, and Jin was ordering drinks immediately.
Namjoon sat on one end of the couch, Yoongi on the other, and Hoseok was scrolling through song options, brieftly pausing over something by a blonde western artist. Seokjin joined his side soon, and what followed was mostly loud but sweet warbling, Hoseok flushed with happiness.
Drinks arrived hastily, and it was a array of all kinds of cocktails, different colours and sizes, all looking far too sweet. Yoongi picked first, something clear with mint leaves, and sucked it dry in a matter of seconds, eyes closed, head lolling back against the couch.
Namjoon skulled his drink too, strawberry slush that was sweet yet had a poisonous after taste, not wanting to lose to the other rapper, on any other fronts. Yoongi noticed, eyes narrowing, and turned his attention back to their friends, who were thankfully hogging the mics.
One song turned into another and another and another, Seokjin and Hoseok so fucking drunk, forgetting there were others in the room, too enamoured with each other to notice.

Yoongi was thumbing away at his phone, and Namjoon reached for his own, about to do the same--
And then Yoongi was getting up, mouthing the world "bathroom" to Seokjin, leaving through the door quickly, and Namjoon was frozen on the spot.

This was his chance, to finally apologise, to finally get Yoongi alone, and say sorry for what happened at the table.

His only chance.
No one even glanced at him, when Namjoon left the room to follow Yoongi, and he was relieved for that, not wanting Hoseok to question what he was doing, to question if he was off to start shit again.

Namjoon felt conflicted, walking down the halls, finding the mens restroom.
He felt conflicted because Yoongi was his rival, Agust D, the one person who always put him in his place, who always made him feel lowly and pathetic.

But Yoongi was also Yoongi, and whatever was going on between them was making Namjoon feel things he'd not felt in a long time.
There was an anxiety there, a yearning to get a reaction, any reaction, and it almost felt like butterflies, maybe, if Namjoon wanted to give it enough thought.

There was also a deep, desperate arousal, and that made Namjoon angry more than anything, because he knew he shouldnt.
Feeling like that for Yoongi-- it's not what he wanted.

Namjoon wasn't a primal person, Namjoon didn't fuck.

Namjoon liked to give love and adoration to his lovers, not-- whatever the fuck his mind and his dick wanted to do to Yoongi.

This wasn't him and he fucking hated that.
Yoongi waiting for him, arms folded, leaning against a ceramic counter, took Namjoon by surprise.
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