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taesthetes · 7 years ago

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Lovers’ Paradox.

Every time he gloats over you, you just want to punch him in the face to shut him up. With your fist or maybe with your mouth. You still aren’t quite sure which one to use yet. Possibly both.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: comedy, slight angst, fluff type: enemies to lovers + police au word count: 10,542 words warnings: a bunch of sexual innuendos author’s note: happy birthday to my mean ho, pablo, fellow yoongi appreciator, and the bestest friend in the entire universe @zephyoongist (i have a longer note for you at the bottom!)

➵ bangtan police unit: a collab with @gukstudio

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Lieutenant Min Yoongi had stationed himself at his desk for three hours already, starting from when he came in at six a.m. sharp, and practically inhaled the coffee he had bought from the quaint hole in the wall cafe near his apartment. Despite already downing the largest cup he could order from the shop, he no longer felt the effects of the extra shots of expresso and was forced to drink the watered-down version offered at his workplace. With more caffeine than actual rivulets of carmine running through his veins, Yoongi practically fuels his sleep deprived body with lethal doses of the stale and caustic coffee provided at the Bangtan Police Station.

The crisp sheets of paper from the latest case file he is examining are spread out across his desk in somewhat of a disarray, the original order he had put it in four hours ago now long gone, as he continuously rifles around for certain tidbits of information that can piece the solution together. Picking up what is now his third cup of coffee, he mumbles a variation of curses under his breath when he sees that he had been using the case’s manila folder as a coaster, glaring disdainfully at the blatant brown ring staining the front of the file. He is beginning to lose feeling in his backside, and his mind toys with the thought of taking a nap in one of the cots set up in the backroom. Yet, he cannot take his eyes away from the evidence laid out in front of him; the solution is right there—he can feel it beneath his fingertips as he trails them across the ridged papers and the dark ink.

Three rapid knocks are heard against the glass of his office door, and Yoongi looks up to see Hoseok—his second-in-command sergeant and long-time police partner—enter the room, nervously biting his lower lip. A deeper crease forms between his furrowed eyebrows as Yoongi takes one glance at the worried and tense expression adorning Hoseok’s ordinarily cheery face. He finally speaks up, his voice cracking slightly from disuse. “What is it, Hoseok?”

“Organized Crime sent their sergeant here to work on that case with you.” Hoseok gestures towards the opened file. “Apparently, it’s connected to a string of gang induced murders they’ve been tracking, and—”

“Oh, fuck, no.” Yoongi interrupts, rubbing his temples as he closes his eyes. “Please don’t tell me it’s—”

“Guess I’m stuck with you again. I’d say it’s a pleasure to work with you again, but it really isn’t, so let’s just cut the crap and get straight to it, pretty boy.”

Yoongi’s eyes snap open fast enough to see you saunter in the room and park yourself next to his desk and impossibly close to him, one hand on your hip as the other shuffles around the documents. “So did you just decide to throw everything on an open surface randomly and hope for the best? Are you losing your touch already?”

Hoseok helplessly shrugs at his partner before disappearing from his office. Narrowing his eyes at you, Yoongi lets out a stream of unrepeatable words that has the corners of your mouth quirk into a small smile. He and you had always competed against each other ever since you two were training in the academy, fighting for the top position. And oh boy, whenever you aced the assignment, squeaking past him with higher markings, you always made sure to flaunt it at him, and he hates it, but he also knows that he always liked the way you get upset and storm off whenever he gets the upper hand. And he absolutely abhors every time you taunted him because all he could think of was how good you look in the fitting uniform. But most of all, Yoongi hates your stupid face with that stupid smile that still somehow makes his heart speed up at the most inconvenient times. Like right now for example.

“Do you have the tapes from the interrogation you did on the supplier?” Hearing no response from Yoongi after a pregnant pause, you wave your hand in front of his face, wriggling your fingers, and he immediately slaps your hand away. His right hand is now awfully close to your left hand, something you notice with a jolt when he starts to absentmindedly tap his fingers against the paper covered oak surface.

“Just hold on for one second and let me think, geez.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you knew how to do that.”

“Fuck off.”

“Make m—”

You get interrupted mid-sentence when the door barges open once again, and Taehyung flounces in with a large grin on his face. He looks quite suspicious, sidling over next to you with both his hands behind his back. “Hey, _______. How’re you doing?”

You slightly squint at him, trying to see if he was just being friendly or having an ulterior motive up his sleeve. You internally curse yourself for not paying as much attention as you should have in profiling class. “I’m doing alright. What about you?”

“Good! Good! I’m doing great!” He beams at you happily, but you still remain somewhat skeptical about his intentions.

“What is it, Taehyung?” Yoongi sighs, looking at the cheerful detective. “Did Jungkook handcuff you again and now you can’t get out of them?”

“Wha—no, that was one time!” Taehyung momentarily sulks before brightening up again, adding a stack of stapled papers onto the current piles you have in front of you. “Here’s the lists of suspects and their information. Oh, and this.”

“What is i—wait, what are you doing?!”

Both you and Yoongi let out a holler of surprise when Taehyung nimbly reaches between the two of you and snaps on a pair of handcuffs onto your left wrist and Yoongi’s right with a resounding click. Jerking his hand back towards his chest in reflex, Yoongi pulls you in accidentally, and you tumble forward, your face suddenly mere millimeters apart from his and your hands pressed against his chest to stop you from toppling. His eyes flicker down to your parted lips for a nanosecond, and your own pair might have taken a quick detour down to his pretty, soft looking, pink lips before flitting back up to make eye contact. Vermillion instantaneously stains his pale cheeks as well as your own before you hastily shove yourself into a standing position, the handcuffs’ chain hanging between the two of you, sparkling and glittering in the light deviously.

“Kim Taehyung.” Yoongi lets the detective’s name slither out from his lips in an octave below a deadly whisper as your stare burns a hole directly in said man’s face. Eyes growing round, Taehyung cowers slightly, backing up before he feels the door behind him, the doorknob pressing uncomfortably into his lower spine.

“Give me the damn key for this,” you speak up, shaking your hand now curled into a fist at Taehyung, the chain rattling as Yoongi’s hand is also unwilling yanked upwards and shaking around limply. Taehyung audibly gulps before patting his pockets for the metal piece.

“… I don’t have it.”

“Taehyung, I swear to god I’m gonna fucking murder you and make it look like an accident. I’m good friends with every coroner in this fucking city.” You threaten in a low voice, and his eyes grow wider, his chest heaving up and down.

“This is one thing I can agree on,” Yoongi says, shooting Taehyung another scathing look before he slowly stands up from his chair.

“Oh, well, look, the two of you are getting along just great right there,” Taehyung laughs nervously, eyes darting back and forth between the menacing figures mere meters away from him. “… Even if it is for plotting my death.”

Then, with a shriek, he hightails out of there, turning on his heel and fleeing the scene with a shout over his shoulder. “I’m sorry! It was a dare!”

“Kim Taehyung!” you bellow, but the man is long gone, and Yoongi falls back into his chair with an exasperated sigh, hand hanging limply next to him. You look over the man next to you with slight distaste. You were already stuck with working with him on this case, but now, you are quite literally stuck with your arch nemesis from day one at the academy: Min Yoongi, the bane of your existence, the one obstacle in your path, your ultimate rival. He was like that pesky fly that kept buzzing around your room no matter how many times you tried to swat it down. You can still picture that arrogant look he gave you every time he beat you: the way his sleepy eyes narrow in satisfaction, the way he cocks a half smile at you, the way he utterly frustrates you.

Every time he gloats over you, you just want to punch him in the face to shut him up. With your fist or maybe with your mouth. You still aren’t quite sure which one to use yet. Possibly both.

Yoongi drags his free hand over his face in frustration and defeat. His voice breaks the temporary stunned silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Should we continue with the case?”

“Did you get any new documents yesterday? I already looked through everything from the case file that was sent over by your captain two days ago. There wasn’t much.”

“Sadly, no,” he sighs, “But we have the list Taehyung dropped off. We can go interview the suspects and their friends and family.”

“But they’re not gonna take us seriously if we walk around handcuffed.” You remark offhand before a terrible thought manifests in your mind. “Oh god, everyone’s gonna think we’re some kind of kinky couple with a sex life gone wrong.”

Yoongi wrinkles his nose at the notion before letting out a deep sigh. “As much as it pains me to say this, you’re right. We should go look for the key.”

“Are you crazy?” You look at him incredulously. “Who knows where Taehyung put that thing? He could’ve dropped it anywhere! I could be stuck with you for weeks! We should just use a metal cutter or go to a locksmith.”

“No, we can’t.” Yoongi shakes his head, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“And why the hell not?”

“If Captain Bang sees I spent funds for things that could’ve been avoided, if he even knew that Taehyung is fooling around with this stuff, then there sure as hell won’t be a pay raise for me next week and Taehyung is gonna get his ass whipped.” Yoongi puffs his cheeks out in annoyance, and you cannot help but poke his cheek with your index finger, laughing when he smacks your hand away.

“I didn’t know Lieutenant Min grew soft over the years, now protecting Taetae from the big bad Bang,” you tease, lightly jabbing his cheek again, and he growls at you to stop.

“Okay, okay, fine, but let’s start looking around for the key then,” you sigh, tugging at the chain to pull Yoongi along with you and out of his office. The atmosphere in the station is unusually silent aside from light pen scratching or the occasional cough, while everyone is intently focusing on files laid out in front of them, heads bent down and suspiciously avoiding eye contact with the two of you. Taehyung and his partner, Jimin, are nowhere to be found.

“Yoongi! _______! Are you going out to interview the suspects now?” Hoseok approaches the two of you with a wider than usual grin. He fiddles around with the pen in his hand, fidgeting around a little as he looks anywhere but directly at you and Yoongi.

“Do you think we’d go out interrogating people with this?” Yoongi lifts up his chained wrist, yanking your arm up as well in the process. “They’d laugh in our faces.”

Hoseok winces. “So, uh, is this a bad time to ask you both to do doughnut duty? Tae usually does it, but he practically dragged Jimin towards the elevator to go do their patrolling after he ran out of your office. And seeing as you can’t really do anything else…”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Twenty minutes later, you and a very disgruntled Yoongi are walking out of the station, heading to the doughnut shop a few blocks down. The people passing by either stare at you two or avoid any eye contact entirely. You drag your feet as you are forced to follow behind the seething man in front of you. The chain clicks delicately between your two bodies, and Yoongi yanks it forward, you stumbling and your face almost becoming acquainted with the concrete beneath your feet. Shooting him a scathing glare as you now walk side by side, you rub your wrist where the metal chafes your skin before tugging the chain harshly, making Yoongi be the one to earn himself a near face plant this time around.

“I hate you.” He grumbles, aiming a well-placed look of annoyance at you.

“The feeling’s mutual.” You pause. “Why do you even have doughnut duty? You’re practically living proof of the most generic police stereotype.”

“Because doughnuts are god’s gift to humanity.” Yoongi glares at you before letting out a huff. “Why am I stuck with getting them like an errand boy anyway? I’m the fucking head of that department, and I have to get the goddamn doughnuts. This is what that rookie Jeon is for.”

“But you always eat the most doughnuts, don’t you?” You pause before giving him a sly smile. “Aren’t I right, Suga?”

Yoongi scowls at you, jerking the chain in retaliation and giving you another chance to familiarize yourself with the pavement. “Don’t call me that. You gave me the worst nickname ever, and even the instructors started calling me that.”

“At least your nickname matched with your doughnut obsession,” you retort. “Everyone kept calling me sweetheart a few days later, and I still don’t know why, like—”

“We’re here,” Yoongi abruptly interrupts, stopping in front of a quaint and cozy looking shop with glass windows allowing for you to see decorative displays and towers of doughnuts along with a glimpse of the interior. The powder blue and white striped awning overhead with the gold trimming is emblazoned with the word “Sprinkles” in neat cursive along with a simple doughnut silhouette.

Yoongi opens the door, and you hurriedly file in behind him, the door falling shut after you. With lights overhead that give off a soft, warm glow to the place, the interior is quite simple and bright with black and white checkered floors and white counters with pale blue spinning stools to sit on along with several matching tables and chairs. However, the prettiest, most eye-catching decorations of all are, without a doubt, the exquisite sugary sweets. The glass display cases exhibit immaculate, tantalizing doughnuts that have your mouth watering.

“You should wipe that drool off your chin,” Yoongi comments offhandedly, and your eyes widen as you hastily swipe your thumb over your bottom lip. “Wha—there is no drool, you asshole.”

Yoongi merely aims a half smirk your way before turning away from you as you begin to chew him out. He tilts his head upwards to scan through the menu written neatly on the chalkboard fashioned to the wall behind the counter. He can still see you from the corner of his eye, you being all puffed up and angry still, very much like a ruffled baby robin. Hiding the smile that threatens to make its appearance, he mutters, “Cute.”

“May I help you?” A girl around your age emerges from the back, carefully carrying out a freshly made tray of old fashioned glazed doughnuts. Wearing a light blue apron with the shop logo on the front, she smiles at you and Yoongi warmly as she maneuvers around behind the counter and skillfully transfers the treats into the glass display cases, artfully placing them on the waxed paper.

“One minute please,” Yoongi pleasantly answers, and you very poorly conceal your laugh with a cough. Min Yoongi being polite? You look out the window to see if pigs were flying outside.

After sliding the now empty tray beneath the counter, the girl pulls out four glazed doughnut holes and places them into a pyramid shape on a small, very pretty, blue, scallop and lace designed plate. Then, she sets it down in front of Yoongi and you.

“Take all the time you need! You can munch on those while you decide. Holler if you need me. I’ll be in the back, getting more doughnuts.” She offers you two another cheerful grin, and you and Yoongi thank her as you each pick up one of the delicate sweets and pop it in your mouths. Closing your eyes, you almost moan at the taste when the fluffy and light pastry melts in your mouth, the sugary coating adding the perfect amount of sweetness to it.

“I need to come here more often,” you say aloud, and when Yoongi doesn’t reply with any sort of snarky remark, you look over to see him with a quite comical expression on his face. He had stuffed the remaining three doughnut holes into his mouth, resulting in having his cheeks puffed out very much akin to a certain woodland creature. You try to frown at him for eating more than his fair share of his sweets, but a laugh bubbles up from your throat as he looks at you innocently.

“You look like a chipmunk,” you tease him, gently prodding at his cheek with your finger, and he pouts at you, probably attempting to aim a few choice words at you, but being unable to do so with his mouth full. You chuckle, grinning mischievously, as you pull out your phone. “I should take a picture of you like this for the rest of the station to see, hmm?”

Yoongi yanks on the chain hard and glares at you scathingly. Laughter is heard, and the two of you drop your impromptu staredown when you see the doughnut shop owner smiling at the two of you. She offers an apologetic grin.

“You must be Yoongi and _______? When Tae came in earlier, he talked about you and something about handcuffs—” She gestures towards the connecting metal. “—and how he almost died or something like that.”

“That brat came here?”

The girl nods. “Yeah, he came in earlier than usual though and only ordered half a dozen sprinkled doughnuts this time. Do you want what he usually orders?”

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” Yoongi answers, and the girl nods in acknowledgment before pulling out two simple blue boxes to begin placing the doughnuts inside. Yoongi lets out a long sigh before absentmindedly ruffling his hair with his hand. He tends to do that when he is stressed or thinking too hard about something, you mentally note.

“Here you go,” says the girl brightly, sliding the two filled and closed boxes towards you and Yoongi. “That’d be 22,600 won for two dozen please.”

Yoongi takes out his wallet, handing over the exact amount before pausing momentarily. “How much are the doughnut holes?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” The girl waves her hand dismissively and then gives you two a wink as Yoongi carries one box with his free hand and you cautiously balance the other box in yours. “It’s on the house for the cute couple.”

You both almost drop the boxes.

“W-wait, we’re not dating,” Yoongi stammers out, and you nod vigorously in agreement.

“Ah, really? I’m sorry, my mistake.” She smiles at you two sweetly. “Have a wonderful day!”

You and Yoongi stumble out of the shop, still somewhat bewildered and mortified. The usually stoic lieutenant is now blushing, and you imagine you are too with the way in which your face feels as if it is on fire. The walk back to the station is now enveloped by a weird, stifling tension; any sign of the familiar bantering between the two of you is now long gone.

“Can you believe she actually thought we were a couple?” you laugh nervously, trying to make up for the awkward silence.

“I know, right? Unbelievable.” He scoffs quietly, his cheeks still flaring up. He quickens his pace, and the tugging at your wrist forces you to try and keep up with the man.

“We’re both gonna end up with bruised wrists if you keep doing that,” you complain, sidestepping away from a man rushing past you. Yoongi halts in his steps, contemplating your words. Then, he reaches out and smoothly wraps his hand around yours, the cuffs no longer straining against your skin and the chain now hanging loose and not taut as it was moments ago. You stare at your interlocked fingers in disbelief. Yoongi tightens his grip on your hand before pulling you along to start walking again.

He swallows hard before saying stiffly, “There. Now, the handcuffs won’t bother you or me.”

You can only stare at him in utter shock for a few seconds before nodding wordlessly as you continue to make your way to the station. You squeeze his hand tightly as he maneuvers around a large crowd of people on the sidewalk, and to your surprise, you feel him silently doing the same, tugging you closer to him. Once the pair of you enter the station, no one comments on your still intertwined hands.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Two hours later, you find yourself still very much chained to one Lieutenant Min Yoongi with absolutely zero work done, no key in sight, and Taehyung still avoiding the station like the plague. You don’t really blame him. If you were at the top of the hit lists of two very experienced cops who can probably list off multiple variations of torture and murder, you would also be signing up for the Federal Witness Protection Program, packing your bags, and moving to the next country by the end of the day.

“I’m gonna strangle that boy when he gets back here,” growls Yoongi as the chain shakes and dangles pitifully between your hand and his.

“Careful. You don’t want to go down for first degree murder,” you mutter, flipping through the various stacks of files and papers Taehyung strewn across his desk for any glimpse of a shiny misplaced key.

“You’re right.” Yoongi pauses, taking a moment to glance over at you. “Should I try for second degree instead?”

“How about we change this topic to something more kid friendly?” Hoseok appears next to Yoongi, a nervous grin on his face. He pats Yoongi and you consolingly on the back when he looks down at the handcuffs still in place. “Or can you quiet down a bit?”

“Why? How about you try wearing these goddamn things that everyone keeps mistaking for BDSM kinky shit gone wrong?”

Hoseok pats Yoongi a little more forcefully on the back with a strained smile on his face as he hisses out his next words through clenched teeth. “There are small children in the room.”

“What?”

You sound so scandalized, and Yoongi has the decency to look somewhat ashamed when he turns around and sees sixteen pair of curious little eyes staring back at him in fascination. Of course, Yoongi groans, the local preschool was coming into the police station for a small field trip today, and he so very conveniently forgot.

“Um, mister,” a four-year-old pulls on Hoseok’s sleeve. “Why are they tied together? I thought only bad people wear that?”

Hoseok crouches down, pleasantly smiling at the young boy. “You’re right. They’re bad people who are on time out right now. Now, how about you go over to Officer Taehyung? You remember him, right? He and Officer Jimin came to visit you in your classroom before for career day. They’re both over there with some special treats for all of you.”

He points over to the far end of the room where Taehyung and Jimin, who had both returned to the station, set up a small table with sprinkled doughnuts and juice boxes. Taehyung looks a bit fidgety, his eyes darting from the two of you to the exit a few steps away from him, but he stays in his place. He and Jimin wave excitedly to the children, who immediately make a beeline towards them with overlapping choruses of “Officer Taetae!” and “Officer Chimchim!”

Hoseok positively beams before making his way over there, and you are sporting a similar grin on your face. Even Yoongi can’t hide the tiny smile when he sees two of his detectives almost knocked over by the tiny and cute bundles of energy that throw themselves into Taehyung and Jimin’s arms.

A tiny tug on Yoongi’s own arm has him peering down into the wide eyes of the very same four-year-old boy from before.

“Um, sir?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“What’s B… D… SM?

“… If I give you an extra doughnut, will you promise to never talk about that again?”

“Yes, sir.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Lunch proved to be not as disastrous as you thought it would be. With timed coordination, you and Yoongi figured out how to eat your burgers without making a mess or losing any more money to the newly installed Swear Jar that Hoseok firmly planted on top of the file cabinets after one too many curses during the first hour of fruitless key searching. However, another problem makes its way to the surface. after Another three hours of hunting around for that goddamn piece of metal, you are unfortunately reminded of the consequences that inevitably comes with chugging a large drink of iced tea paired with your burger.

“Hey, Yoongi.”

“What?”

“I need to use the restroom.”

“What?”

“I said I need to use the restroom,” you repeat yourself, and Yoongi looks like a deer caught in the headlights, his usual stoic nature long gone. He can only stare at you, wide eyed and mouth agape, and you roll your eyes, dragging him in the direction of the bathrooms. “Are you really that surprised to find out that I, too, have normal body functions?”

Yoongi finally springs into action, pulling back his arm quickly and protesting, “Wait, but I can’t go in there!”

“Okay, should we go into the men’s room instead then?” You give him a deadpanned look, and he looks appalled. You start to make your way towards the men’s bathroom, and Yoongi yanks you back.

“You can’t go in there!”

“Well, make up your damn mind, or do you want me to pee in my pants?”

“No!”

No more than five minutes later, Yoongi finds himself standing in the women’s restroom, his face rivalling the sun. With one hand stretched into the stall and the other holding the stall door closed, he hands his head low and shuts his eyes, desperately willing all of this to be a dream. He tries to focus on the case instead, but the sound of liquid hitting the toilet just makes him want to curl up in a ball and die from humiliation. Finally, he hears the telltale crinkling of toilet paper and the flush that signals the end of his torture, and he can almost hear the salvation that is calling to him from just outside the bathroom door.

You open the stall door, and the two of you avoid any eye contact for the time being as you shuffle over to the sink and wash your hands. You wait for Yoongi to do the same, and then, you both walk towards the door. It suddenly flings open, and you are faced with two other officers, who look at you in surprise and then towards Yoongi.

“Oh! Um, I’m sorry to intrude,” one of them hastily apologizes, and they both back away. “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant Min and Sergeant _______.”

“Wait! No, it’s okay! We weren’t doing anything!” You exclaim, your cheeks burning in mortification, but they already hurried off, most likely in search of another restroom. “Oh my god.”

Internally, Yoongi immensely agrees with your reaction. But externally, he merely glances over at you, a mixture of boredom and amusement painted on his face. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with you?” you burst out, staring at him in disbelief. “They thought we had a bathroom quickie!”

“And? Did you wish it actually happened or something?” His mouth twists into a smirk. “Do you want to have sex with me, Sergeant _______?”

You throw him a disgusted look. “Get your head out of the gutter. The only way you’d ever get laid is if you crawled up a chicken’s ass and waited.”

Cheeks still burning and head down, you quickly yank the bathroom door open and walk out, and the bane of your existence follows behind you with one of the smuggest looks you have ever seen. Wordlessly, he and you begin to search for the key again.

The bathroom incident is undoubtedly going to be filed away as the second most embarrassing moment in your life, you think and internally cringe. However, first place is still reserved for that time you got so unbelievably drunk at the academy’s graduation party and accepted Jennie’s dare, which ended up with you kissing a certain Min Yoongi. Of course, he never mentioned it to you after that night, so you are almost certain that he was also too incredibly intoxicated to remember, and for that, you are eternally grateful for the reliable powers of liquor.

You just wish the alcohol had worked for you, too.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

It is now almost five p.m., and Yoongi lost nearly half his wallet to the Swear Jar. He also lost three of his doughnuts to the same little kid earlier, and that did not put him in a good mood at all. The key is still nowhere to be found, and you are seriously debating whether to give up and put all the contents of your purse into that damn jar and let out your inner demon to show how you truly feel about this whole ordeal to Taehyung and probably almost the entire population of Seoul.

“So, uh, how about you two just call it a day and go home?”

Hoseok appears by your side once again nervously, wincing when you slam a file cabinet shut. Jungkook, who had walked down to perform his mundane duty of cleaning the case files, immediately turns around and scurries into the breakroom. The sound of the faucet being turned on is heard a few seconds later along with vigorous scrubbing. After entering and sensing the tense atmosphere, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung make an immediate beeline towards the breakroom as well, and the sound of four officers enthusiastically washing the coffee mugs fills the air one moment later.

You sigh, looking up irritably. “I refuse to spend a night attached to this asshole.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Yoongi scowls at you.

“Look, we’ll all look for the key for you. You both really should go home and rest after such an… eventful day.” Hoseok shifts uncomfortably in his spot, eyes darting back and forth from you to Yoongi. “Everyone is… a bit tense right now, so… you both should go home and relax.”

You and Yoongi stay silent, refusing to look at each other, as you debate over your options. Hoseok huffs in annoyance. “Look, we’ll call you if we find it, okay?”

“… Alright,” Yoongi begrudgingly agrees, and your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“We’re going to my apartment because I need to take care of Holly.” Yoongi completely ignores you, walking into his office to swipe the case file off his desk, and you are dragged behind him amidst protests. You quickly swipe your bag up, slinging it over your shoulder, before he pulls you out of his office again.

“Nope, you’re not taking this.” Hoseok swipes the papers from Yoongi’s grasp before ushering the two of you out of the station. “Seriously, go relax. Don’t think of work… or the handcuffs.”

“Well, how am I supposed not think of the thing that’s making my life a living hell?” Yoongi quips sarcastically, and you open your mouth to let out a retort, but Hoseok cuts you off quickly with an exasperated sigh.

“Just… play with your dog or watch a movie or do something that doesn’t require a lot of movement. And try not to kill each other.”

You give him a half-smile as Yoongi drags you out of the building. “No promises there.”

“And I’m taking your squad car, Hoseok!”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After a ten minute argument of whether it’d be better to take the train—your usual and preferred mode of transportation—or Yoongi’s car, you find yourself struggling to climb over the car controls to get yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. Yoongi smoothly slides into the driver’s seat and lets out a huff of impatience, which lands him a solid kick in his thigh in retaliation as you finally crawl over the shifts and settle down.

Giving you a dirty look in which you return it tenfold, he starts the car and begins the drive to his apartment. You lean forward to flick on the radio, mildly surprised when an already inserted CD begins to play, but the rapping that comes forth from the speakers suits you enough that you relax back in your seat. Yoongi peers over at you tentatively, checking for your reaction, but you seem content, bobbing your head slightly to the music.

“Do you… do you like the song?” Yoongi inquires hesitantly, and you turn to him, a genuine smile on your face.

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” you comment, “I haven’t heard of it before though, so who’s the artist?”

“Me.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.” He glances over at you with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Surprised?”

“Mm, a bit.” You hum in response. “But it’s not that big of a surprise since I caught you rapping in the showers a lot.”

Yoongi’s eyes fly open, and he almost hits the brakes. “You heard?”

“Are you really that shocked? You were rapping in the communal bathrooms.”

“Yeah, but I thought no one else showers at three in the morning.” His face has taken on the palest hues of red, and you have to hide your smile, pretending not to notice.

“Well, I guess you learn something new every day.”

Avoiding all eye contact with you now, he keeps his line of sight directly on the road ahead of him. “… Do you really like my rapping though?”

“Wow, is the Lieutenant Min Yoongi actually fishing for compliments from me?”

“Shut up.”

The remainder of the drive is relatively quiet, aside from the music. You lean your head against the side of the car, gazing out the window and watching the buildings pass by in the blur, unaware of the silent glances as Yoongi’s eyes flit over to your still figure at every red light.

When he reaches the building, he pulls into an available parking spot before unbuckling his seatbelt. You wordlessly do the same, and Yoongi starts to get out of the car as you make your way over the car controls. Sliding onto the driver’s seat, you quickly tug at the handcuffs, causing Yoongi to look over at you. You smile faintly, slightly tilting your head to one side and color rising in your cheeks.

“Yes, Yoongi, I really, really do like your rapping.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Yoongi unlocks the door to his apartment and steps into the darkened area with you on his heels. Closing the door behind you and kicking off your shoes, the clicking of paws against the hardwood floors is heard, and a brown, curly haired dog comes into view, bounding towards the man next to you. You are suddenly pulled down towards the floor, forced into an awkward crouch, when Yoongi drops to his knees, extending his arms out towards his dog.

“Holly!”

The dog bounds straight into Yoongi’s embrace, and your heart all but melts when you see the dog happily licking away at its owner’s face. Yoongi is grinning broadly now, laughing freely, and you find yourself smiling as well until the dog jumps over to you, catching you off guard as you fall back on your bottom with an “oomph!”

“He likes you,” Yoongi comments, amusedly watching his dog excitedly spring onto you.

“I’m glad. I like Holly, too,” you manage to say in between giggles as the dog continues to give you kisses all over your face. You laugh with delight, running your hand across the dog’s back, returning its affections wholeheartedly.

Yoongi quietly observes you happily playing with his dog with a small smile forming on his lips. With your hair loosely tied back, small wisps falling out, eyes scrunched up as peals of laughter bubble out from your naturally pink lips, he can’t help but think that you look absolutely beautiful in this very moment.

Hurriedly brushing away those thoughts with the lightest blush now on his cheeks, Yoongi clears his throat. “So, do you want to watch something on Netflix?”

Scooping up Holly in your arms, you look up at him, a cheeky smile quirking on your lips. “Are you asking me to Netflix and chill?”

“W-What?” he splutters, abruptly standing up in his haste and accidently yanking you up as well. “No, I just—”

You chuckle, walking over to his couch as he hopelessly follows behind and settles in the spot next to you. “I’m joking, Yoongi. What do you want to watch?”

“Oh.” He pauses, attempting to calm himself down, as his heart is still beating quite erratically from your small scare. “Criminal Minds?”

“Sounds good.”

The sounds from the television soon fill the air as the two of you quiet down and get caught up in the show playing on the screen. Holly settles down right between the two of you snugly, its head resting upon its paws and tail moving slightly before dropping down.

Yoongi silently marvels at how Derek Morgan can easily kick down any door. Last time he tried doing that, he was one hundred percent sure that he almost broke his foot. Granted, he was a new and very ambitious cop at the time, but that time marked the first and last time he would ever try breaking through solid oak.

Three episodes later, the growling sound of your empty stomach cuts through the air, and Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, amused. Even Holly lifts its head up to investigate where the noise originated from.

“Um, I’ll go make dinner.”

You hastily stand up, pausing the show and forcing Yoongi to move from his comfortable position with a groan as he is dragged behind you. Wandering into his kitchen area, you open up the refrigerator where only a sad, half-filled carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, and some coffee creamer rest on the shelves. Furrowing your eyebrows, you close the fridge before peering through his cupboards, seeing nothing but several bags of ground coffee beans and packs of ramen.

“How are you even alive? Is your body purely fueled by caffeine and MSG? Do you not know how to cook?” You stare at him in shock.

“I can cook,” he grumbles, shutting the wooden cabinets firmly before pulling you back over to the couch and plopping down with you following suit. “But I’m too tired to after getting home at midnight every night. Let’s just order pizza.”

Agreeing, you take out your cell phone and place an order. You inform Yoongi that the pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and stuffed crust will be coming in twenty minutes, and he nods silently in response. The comfortable ambiance settles once again after Yoongi unpauses the episode, and you relax back into the cushions as Holly comes and curls up in your lap.

Propping his elbow on the armrest as he leans his head onto his hand, Yoongi finds himself watching you out of the corner of his eye more often than not, his eyes wandering over to your figure no matter how hard he tries to focus them on the television screen in front of him. You are much more interesting and far prettier than Spencer Reid and listening to him explain the scientific accuracies in Star Trek. He smiles subconsciously when your eyebrows furrow in the slightest way as you are transfixed with the action filled scene playing out in front of you, mouth popping open in surprise and glimmering eyes wide in fascination with your long and dark eyelashes framing them prettily.

The abrupt knocking on the door startles you out of your trace, and Yoongi hastily averts his eyes when you look over towards him. Gently nudging Holly out of your lap, you stand up and Yoongi pauses the show, walking with you to the door.

“Wait, here.” Yoongi hurriedly pulls out his wallet and fumbles with it before pulling out a couple of bills and handing them to you.

“What?” You stare at the money in your hand, beginning to protest. “No, you already paid for the doughnuts and lunch. I’ll pay for th—”

“You can pay for doughnuts tomorrow then. Just get the pizza.” Yoongi unlocks the door and swings it open, hidden from view behind the door. You stand in the doorway, startled, and then lean against the door, your left hand holding it steady. A very attractive delivery man smiles at you pleasantly, holding out the cardboard box towards you.

“One pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and stuffed crust for the beautiful lady?”

Yoongi has a very strong urge to punch pizza boy’s face repeatedly.

You ignore the poorly disguised scoff from the scowling man behind the door and laugh quietly, smiling shyly back at the man. “Yes, thank you. Here’s the money.”

The man hands you the box before taking the money, and you almost drop it after failing to balance it in one hand, and he quickly helps you to steady it.

“Woah, there. Precious cargo.” He winks at you, and your face immediately feels hot as another giggle bubbles from your throat, and Yoongi sees red.

Suddenly, the door is pulled back farther, and you almost fall over, shoulder bumping into Yoongi’s chest. The blush on your cheeks darken when Yoongi wraps his hand around yours, jangling the handcuffs obnoxiously and causing the man to look down, his eyes widening.

“You know, sweetheart, I don’t know if pizza will work for the food play you’ve been begging me to do. I’m already having a hard time keeping up with the police roleplay and BDSM you wanted,” Yoongi loudly announces, and you freeze, your face now rivalling an oven.

The delivery man’s face pales considerably before he begins to back away. “U-Uh, okay, enjoy the pizza and have a good day!”

“No, wait, that wasn’t—!” Darkening shades of cerise appear on your face as you desperately try to explain the situation, but the man is already retreating further and further away, speed walking until he enters the elevator and hastily closes the door. Whirling around on your heel, you jab your finger into Yoongi’s chest harshly.

“What the fuck was that for, Min Yoongi?”

“I, um…”

Because I was jealous.

Because I’m the only one who should make you smile like that.

Because I want to be the only one who makes you laugh.

“Because I was hungry and I wanted some pizza, but you were taking too long,” he lamely replies.

“You’re an asshole.”

You roll your eyes with a scoff, making your way over to the couch again and dropping the box onto the coffee table. Yoongi silently takes a seat next to you as you pull out a slice of pizza for yourself before he takes one as well. You angrily hit the button to unpause the show, refusing to look over at the man next to you for the remainder of the episode.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Let’s get this straight. Brushing your teeth attached to him was fine, and so was washing your face. Going to the bathroom was embarrassing, but you can deal with that. Hell, even wearing a pair of Yoongi’s sweatpants in exchange for your uncomfortable fitted uniform pants was fine with you. But sleeping in the same bed with the man who is the sole cause of the biggest headache you have had to endure?

That is where you draw the line.

Literally.

By using several pillows.

“Okay, so you stay on your side, and I stay on mine, and we can survive the night without killing each other.”

“Agreed.”

You and Yoongi stand at the end of his bed, staring at the lumpy mound hidden under the comforter that the two of you had created straight down the center of the mattress. Carefully, you both crawl onto the bed, making sure to move your handcuffed arms at the same time to avoid any accidental face plants if someone jerks their hand at the wrong time. The both of you safely make it under the covers, your linked arms lying limply on top of the pillow barrier and blanket.

“Good night, Yoongi.”

You close your eyes, hoping that sleep will overtake you soon. He doesn’t answer, and you assume he is already knocked out cold. You bite back a smile. He never did really have a problem with falling asleep quickly; you remember how he accidentally drifted off during one too many times at the stakeouts during training. Of course, he always denied it whenever you had to shake him awake, claiming to be merely resting his eyes for a second.

When Yoongi finally hears your breaths even out as you are soon enraptured in dreams and make-believe, he softly mumbles:

“Good night, sweetheart.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When you wake up, you find yourself sprawled across one very much knocked out Min Yoongi. While he currently has as much consciousness as a boulder, you soon realize that his chest makes a good substitute for a pillow and hidden beneath his shirt are some really nice abs. And you immediately become extremely mortified when you comprehend that you can confirm the existence of his abs because your hand had somehow slipped under his shirt during the night and you were pretty much feeling him up.

With your heart nearly thudding out of your chest, you hastily pull your hand out and carefully place it next to his head on the pillow in order to steadily raise yourself out of the compromising position. But from your vantage point, you are able to see how handsome Yoongi really is: his dark eyelashes flutter against his rosy cheeks as he is still somewhere in dreamland, the crease between his eyebrows now gone, small puffs of breath leaving between his pink lips, how soft and smooth his skin is. Absolutely mesmerized, you dare to reach out and gently brush back the stray, silky, soft strands of his hair out of his face, a small smile peeking out on your lips.

And then, you realize how completely embarrassing it would be if Yoongi woke up and saw you, so you quickly retract your hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you finally notice the numbers on the digital clock on his nightstand.

It reads 9:27 a.m.

Well, that must be a mistake. You blink twice, but the same numbers glare back at you.

“Shoot,” you mumble, panic rising inside of you, as your eyes dart around the room. You have never been late to work before, and you would bet a dozen sugared doughnuts that Yoongi hasn’t either.

Wistfully, you gaze back down at the peacefully sleeping Yoongi with one last gentle smile. And then, you reach out and harshly flick Yoongi’s forehead.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty!”

Yoongi reacts immediately, his eyes opening in an instant and squinting at you. His morning voice comes out rather rough, slightly slurred, and deeper than usual, and you have to chastise yourself for almost swooning.

“What the fuck, _______?”

“Get up! It’s 9:27! We’re late for work!”

At your words, his eyes widen, and his head turns to take a glimpse of the clock before a stream of obscene words that you dare not to repeat leaves his mouth. He sits up immediately, forcing you to sit up as well before dragging you out of bed and into the bathroom where the two of you haphazardly go through your morning routines, swiping your toothbrushes over your teeth quickly and dragging your fingers through your hair in an attempt to comb it. At this point, neither of you even bat an eyelash when the other needs to use the toilet, too preoccupied with finishing as rapidly as possible to get down to the station.

The two of you make a mad dash to the front door where you start to put on your shoes when you make a startling discovery.

“Yoongi, our pants—”

Yoongi looks down and curses beneath his breath when he realizes you both are in pajama pants, and you both sprint back to the bedroom. He grabs the pants, throwing your pair at you as you quickly stripped out of the borrowed sweatpants and pull on your uniform pants, frowning a little when it feels looser than usual but there’s no time to dwell on fashion mishaps. Yoongi quickly changes, and you two dash out the door with a rushed shout of goodbye to Holly. After learning from yesterday’s first try, you skillfully maneuver your way over the car controls and land safely in your seat as Yoongi slides into the driver’s seat, starting up the car and immediately pressing down on the gas pedal.

“You might want to turn on the sirens… You’re passing Jin’s patrol area, and I wouldn’t put it past him to let you go without a speeding ticket with the way you’re driving,” you comment, and Yoongi glances over at you, contemplating your words for a few seconds before flipping on the flashing lights and blaring alarm.

Yoongi’s automobile essentially flies over the asphalt at the speed he is going, and cars move out of his way in an instant whether it be due to the sirens or avoiding an untimely fate of becoming a flat metal pancake on the road. In record time, Yoongi messily parks the car in front of the station, and you scramble to get out of the car before he yanks your arm out of its socket. He hurriedly rushes up the steps as you follow behind him, safely making it into the building in one piece.

Tapping his foot impatiently as he jabs at the button for the third floor, Yoongi shifts around uncomfortably, mumbling, “I didn’t even eat any doughnuts yet. Why are my pants so fucking tight?”

The elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding, and you and Yoongi stride into the main room. Almost immediately, everyone’s eyes are focused on the two of you: some in amazement that last night didn’t end with a 911 call about either one of you getting mauled by the other and others in amusement that you both are still handcuffed to each other.

And one particular pair of eyes seemed to be trailed on the backside of Min Yoongi as Taehyung walks by and does a double take before winking exaggeratedly, “Wow, boss, you’re gonna give the jibooty a run for its money. Have you been doing squats secretly or something?”

“Tae!” Jimin, who is definitely carrying the brunt of the secondhand embarrassment as well as the seething terror emitted by his new boss, runs up and throws his hand over his partner’s mouth before dragging him away.

After throwing Taehyung a scathing look, Yoongi scans the room until he sees Hoseok and then proceeds to pull you over towards his partner. Hoseok, bearing a very guilty look, fiddles timidly with his badge before greeting Yoongi and you nervously.

“H-Hey, _______… Yoongi.”

“Did any of you manage to find the key yet?” Yoongi speaks up.

“Um, well, you see… no. We didn’t. But we’ll keep looking now!” Hoseok beams another smile at Yoongi. “And uh, Tae is right. Your behind is looking very… shapely in those pants today.”

“Hoseok.”

“Yeah?”

“For the love of doughnuts, please don’t ever compliment my butt again.”

“Duly noted.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Taehyung had resumed his doughtnut duty today, and a fresh box of old fashion glazed doughnuts has been placed neatly in the center of Yoongi’s desk. After having a quick breakfast consisting of the sugary, fried sweets and the station’s watered down coffee, you and Yoongi resume your search around the station for the misplaced key with the help of several officers.

After almost fifteen minutes have passed, Yoongi glances over and notices that you are no longer looking for the key, but rather—

“Now isn’t the time to be ogling my ass, Sergeant _______.” Yoongi smirks, and you scowl at him, yet a telltale rosy dusting is already coming upon your cheeks.

“For your information, I was trying to see if you’re actually wearing my pants, asshole.” You narrow your eyes at him, and he seems to deflate a bit as his own cheeks turn red. “We probably mixed them up this morning while we were freaking out about being late because the ones I’m wearing are a little loose.”

“Well, I didn’t know you two were in the borrowing clothes stage of the relationship already.” Taehyung sidles up between the two of you, slinging his arms over your shoulder and Yoongi’s. Simultaneously, he gets a dirty look from either side of him, but he merely deflects it with an easy going grin. “How’s my favorite couple doing?”

“We’re not a couple,” you correct him sharply, slamming the drawer you were sorting through a little too angrily, and making both men next to you wince. “We are two very angry adults stuck together, like little kids doing the three leg race, except we can’t take off this damn thing that’s connecting us because of some ridiculous dare orchestrated by, oh, who was it again? Oh right, you!”

The detective visibly flinches before retreating, hastily saying, “Okay, well, I’ll come back later.”

“Taehyung, you better sleep with one eye open for as long as I have this goddamn metal wrapped around my wrist. And you better get your last will and testimony in check.”

“Okay, you know what? I thought the free pizza for a month would be worth it, but I’m sorry, boss, my life is more important. I have so much to live for, especially since I haven’t even confessed to the love of my life who’s waiting for me in the doughnut shop right now, so good bye! I’m cashing in one of my emergency vacation break days now!”

With that, Taehyung dashes out of the room and repeatedly hits the down button of the elevator. But you turn to Yoongi, eyebrows raised. “What is he apologizing to you for, Yoongi? Did you tell him to do this?”

“I, uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Yoongi stammers out, and your forehead wrinkles in apprehension as you eye him suspiciously.

His eyes avert away from yours and momentarily land on a spot somewhere near the front pocket of your pants. Following his gaze downwards, you notice the ring of eyes attached to the belt loop, temporarily confused.

But these are Yoongi’s pants and those are his keys, you realize with a jolt, and one of those keys could be—

“You’d have the master key to all the handcuffs as lieutenant, wouldn’t you?”

“What? No—wait! No, what are you doing?! They’re not on there!” Yoongi desperately reaches out for the keys, but you are quicker, snapping them off of the loop and holding them away from him. Your eyes scan over the keys, looking for a small one that would fit your handcuffs. Bingo.

You nimbly insert the key into your side of the handcuffs and the silver metal falls away from your wrist easily. You gently rub at the sore, reddened imprint of the ring slightly before tossing the keys towards Yoongi with a bit more force than necessary along with a glare. Everyone in the room is silent, staring at the two of you in mingled shock and dread. The both of you are ticking bombs when together, and you are the one who finally explodes, quiet words slicing the tension.

“If you really hated me that much and wanted to stop me from working on your case, you could’ve just filed a report instead of doing something as stupid and inconsiderate as this.”

Tears of anger start to well up in your eyes, and you blink rapidly, brushing them away, as you turn away from Yoongi. Frozen momentarily, he snaps out of it, struggling to quickly take off his end of the handcuffs before reaching out towards you as his fingers curl around your wrist.

“No, wait, _______, fuck, I—”

“Am I some kind of joke to you? I know you hate me, but I thought you could at least respect me as your co-worker,” you spit out, wrenching your arm out of his grasp with a scathing look.

“No, I—fuck, you’re completely wrong. It’s the complete opposite of that, I don’t—god, you got this all wrong,” Yoongi exclaims desperately.

“Then explain it to me.” You curl your hands into tightly clenched fists, fingernails leaving crescent shaped markings in your palm as you try to control your emotions. “If I’m so wrong, then tell me the right answer.”

“I—”

His mouth opens and close, no words forming and no explanation to be found. Finally, he averts his eyes from yours as crimson blossoms on his cheeks, mouth now clamped shut, and you let out a disappointed sigh before shaking your head and walking away again.

“I’m in fucking love with you, okay?”

You pause in your steps, and you can feel his stare burning a hole through the back of your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn on your heel and face him once more hesitantly.

“I just, fuck,” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration as he closes his eyes and finally lets it all out, putting his heart on the line.

“I had the biggest fucking crush on you ever since the first day of the academy and you completely destroyed everyone in every class. You were so focused on acing everything, and I thought the only way you’d actually notice me was if I worked harder, too. And it worked, didn’t it? Maybe not to the degree I was hoping for, but you finally noticed me after my name topped yours on the grades list.”

Yoongi laughs humorlessly, finally meeting your eyes. “That was the only way I could get your attention because I was too chicken to ask you out. And that time, you kissed me drunk, and I was on fucking cloud nine and thanked my lucky stars that I was completely sober when you did that. But you never said anything about it the next day, so I kept my mouth shut, too, because I figured it was just a drunk mistake. And shit, I still have the most embarrassing crush on you now after all those years, and I was desperate enough to let Taehyung interfere, but it just backfired, and I look like the biggest fucking idiot now because I made you hate me even more.”

He lets out a deep breath, and his confession now hangs bare in the still air. Your heart is thumping faster than ever, and your mind is going haywire as realization finally hits you, and you almost laugh out of relief before you compose yourself, stating seriously:

“Lieutenant Min Yoongi, you really are the biggest fucking idiot.”

Yoongi exhales, looking away from you. “I know.”

“But I’m in fucking love with you, too.”

Yoongi’s head snaps up to stare at you in surprise, and you smile at him tenderly. His eyes flit over your face, searching for any signs of mirth or mockery but he finds none. Biting his bottom lip and swallowing hard, he asks nervously, “Do you really mean it?”

Taking several steps towards him and closing in the distance between you and him, you are centimeters away from the man before you whisper quietly, “Yes, I really, really mean it.”

Yoongi’s heart palpitates erratically, and he finds that he has a very hard time breathing when—

“Just kiss her, you idiot!” Hoseok’s voice is heard as he loudly whispers from the breakroom.

Laughing softly, you tilt your head up towards him, and he looks back at you, a questioning expression on his face. You nod almost imperceptibly before he gently cups his hands under your chin and presses his lips against you. Your hands softly land on his chest as your fingers grasp onto the front of his shirt lightly. Your heart beats furiously against your ribcage, and you can feel his lips curl into a smile as he kisses you, and you kiss him back.

“And ten dollars to the Swear Jar!”

You and Yoongi don’t get to witness Hoseok’s appalled expression, but you definitely hear the indignant, horrified shriek from the man when the two of you simultaneously give him the middle finger salute.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Do you want to know why everyone started calling you ‘sweetheart’?”

Yoongi idly asks, absentmindedly stirring his coffee as he sits across from you in Sprinkles. The two of you often visit the doughnut shop together, one of your and his joint favorite date stops. Popping one of the doughnut holes into your mouth, you nod, looking at him with interest.

“Do you remember Hoseok being the first one who called you that?”

“Yeah.” You can recall the memory in detail. “I was startled when he greeted me with that pet name, and all the other cadets started calling me that, too, and he wouldn’t tell me why no matter how many times I bugged him about it.”

“It was because he knew I liked you.” Yoongi’s cheeks flare up as he finally admits, and you grin, reaching out to poke them, but he swats your hand away embarrassedly. “You called me Suga, and well, Suga stands for sugar, which is sweet… and Hoseok decided to make fun of me by giving you a ridiculous nickname that stood for my huge ass crush for you—essentially something about you being my heart and sugar sweet or some corny shit like that.”

“That’s really corny, but also cute as hell, oh my god.” You can’t hide the wide smile that slides onto your face, and he merely groans, dragging his hand over his face.

“It’s so embarrassing, I—”

Clunk.

You both look down to see that something had fallen out of Yoongi’s pocket.

A familiar pair of handcuffs glint back up at you in the light.

“… Why do you still have those?”

“Well, I was thinking about later how we can…” His lips curve into a devilish, suggestive smirk as he trails off from the end of his sentence before your eyes widen in realization.

“Oh my fucking god, Yoongi.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

cont. author’s note: dearest pablo, you first said hi to me on yoongi’s birthday three years ago, but we had no idea who any of bangtan were yet at the time or how much they would wreck us. instead, you asked me about anime, but i had no idea what that was about and yet, we still became friends as we ventured through awkward first conversations with lots of xD and c: but now, look where we are. i managed to drag you into bts hell after my third attempt of getting you into kpop, and what happened to our sworn promises of not getting into smut, huh? you were so scandalized by it in the beginning, and now look at you ;) sorry there’s no risky sex in a jail cell in this fic, but i tried to include as many handcuffs innuendos as possible just for you lmao. if i did the calculations correctly, i queued this up for when it exactly hit midnight where you are on your birthday (and also because i’m in europe currently and wasn’t sure if i’d have good wifi to post on time lmao). no matter how dramatic dream an is or if you decide to do those things irl, i will still support your decisions (and keep note for future blackmail, of course, what kind of bffl would i be if i didn’t?). and i know we don’t usually get sappy with each other, but thank you for being the greatest bffl to ever exist and i love you lots, maybe even more than sushi and dogs but definitely more than taeyeon, jisoo, and taehyung (but you’re still getting a yoongi fic present and not a hoseok one as payback for all the tae angsts you dragged me through on my bday but appreciate all the blood, sweat, and tears that went into writing this 10k montrosity). so, congrats on reaching the last teenage year of your life, and happy birthday, an!!! ♡

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badsithnocookie · 7 years ago

Text

Unification (7/?)

Making it behind Imperial lines was not, of course, the challenge - nor was it breaching what passed for their command centre, even if the Empire wasn't letting their territory go without a fight. Not that Eirn expected anything else; not that this made her any happier, especially as Lana was showing far less hesitation to cut down Imperials who got in her way than Eirn. Truthfully, Eirn would have rather kept casualties to a non-existent minimum, but- well, that was her idealism talking, the irritatingly bright-eyed optimism that Anya had infected her with (that she'd always wanted to strive for, deep down, even if it wasn't a yearning that would have won her any admiration among the Sith).

'Your people will all be given medical treatment. Cooperate,' Eirn started, not expecting it in the slightest, 'And I will make sure you all get home. You have my word on this. Now, where is the Empress-?'

There weren't many here, in truth - a skeleton crew, and for a moment, Eirn wondered if there was some misdirection going on. Of course, it was probable that most had been called out to the front lines, but her paranoia was a beast that was never truly sated. Quinn was conspicuously absent, too; a fact that gnawed at her, and she tried to tell herself that these things were likely unrelated.

'You'll get nothing from me,' the commander - a Captain, by his insignia, though he looked older than M- Quinn, and probably resented him for it, 'Traitorous scum-'

In a calmer situation, Eirn might have admired his courage, levelling a pistol at two armed Sith as he did - but as it was, she had neither the time nor inclination to play games and, before Lana could involve herself, pulled the man's pistol from his hand with the Force - crushing it, after a moment, before tossing it to one side, along with the other weapons they'd pulled from his underlings.

'I'll ask again,' Eirn repeated, keeping her tone as even as she could. Sith fury was one thing, but there was little as terrifying as a Sith who had not yet resorted to it, 'Only once. Where is the Empress?'

('Eirn, Lana, you there? We've got a problem-'

It was Koth - one of the few people in the Alliance who did Eirn the favour of addressing her by name. He also had the worst timing in the Alliance - if not the entire galaxy, though Eirn had resolved not to hold him to blame for things frequently far beyond his control.

'Koth,' Lana sighed, 'We don't have time-')

'I've got nothing to say to you,' the Captain retorted, sneering at Eirn with something rapidly approaching disdain. 'Lieutenant,' he started to add, 'We will not be surrendering to these-'

('We're picking up power spikes all round your location. Something's powering up down there. Something big.'

The weapon. And they still didn't know where it was - or how to shut the thing down. Fucking fantastic.

'Noted,' Lana replied, sharply. 'No other changes?')

His Lieutenant, though - a tall, slightly nervous woman with her share of cybernetics - just glanced between him and Eirn (who was long out of patience with this world), before setting her face in grim determination, and-

'Empress's lab is down that hallway,' she replied, jerking one arm to indicate one of the hallways that lead off the command centre. 'Second door on the left. Just- please, my lord- we're all just doing our jobs. None of us wants to get shipped off to the Pubs. No offence,' she finished, glancing at Dorne - or, at the very least, at Dorne's Republic armour.

-did the one thing that Eirn had definitely not been expecting.

'I'll do my best,' Eirn replied - promised, and hoped she could keep that promise. 'Thank you, Lieutenant.'

('Lieutenant!' Her Captain, of course, did not take this well - rounding on her, and only stopped from moving further by the fact that Lana still had her saber lit and levelled at the lot of them.

'Lord Illte got our Tom off Ziost, sir. If she says this is for the good of the Empire, I believe her.')

('Looks like the dampening field is offline, too. Weapons are all back online, so it's just a matter of time before- no, they just started shooting at each other,' Koth managed, in her earpiece. 'Evasive manoeuvres! Is the Omnicannon good-?'

'Koth! Koth, are you there-?' Lana, of course, was instantly distracted from the mission, though not without good cause - the Gravestone was more than just a flagship, and Koth was- well, more than simply her friend.)

('Lieutenant,' the Captain started, angrily, 'This will mean a disciplinary-'

'If we're alive for it, sir,' she replied, apparently unfazed, 'You can tell the board whatever you want.')

'Viper Squad is almost on our position,' Dorne added - their backup, the Republic special operations team clearing up in their wake. 'We can hold this until they arrive.'

Shadowing them, Eirn hadn't failed to note; likely watching them, watching her, there to ensure that if Eirn did turn on the Republic, that she wouldn't do so without a fight. It wasn't a thought that sat pleasantly, not least because of Dorne's admission that they carried Force suppressants.

'Go,' Lana interrupted, before she could take that thought any further. 'We'll hold this position, and join you as soon as we can.'

Which wasn't ideal - but Eirn knew she wasn't in a position to negotiate - with Lana, with the Empire, with the Force itself - and so she just nodded, before heading deeper into Imperial territory.

Acina's laboratory was not difficult to find - even if Acina herself was difficult to pick out with the Force, not least because of the way the weapon's tech seemed imbued with it in a way that did not set Eirn at ease in the slightest, and which clouded the Force presences of all on its surface. Iokath had always been a strange world; not even a world, technically, though it was difficult to think of somewhere with open skies as any kind of structure. Still, the Force flowed here in the manner of electricity through wiring, or water through irrigation pipes; artificially, conducted in manners that Eirn had to assume were some approximation of precise, or at least once had been, and in a far more clinical, paradoxically modern way than any ancient Sith or Rakatan artefact.

The Empire, from what Eirn was seeing - from what she was guessing, mostly - seemed to have settled on this hack the planet plan long before leaving Kaas, as well, if the Force-imbued wiring bundled through the passageways was any indication. Despite Lana's protests, Acina had come here intending to force the issue, and that was a thought that made Eirn grip her saber harder.

The laboratory, much to Eirn's surprise, was not guarded - and for a moment, she wondered if the helpful Lieutenant had sent her on a wild gizka chase. When the door opened, though, it was to an almost-familiar sight - a storage room, like the one they'd visited with Dorne, with a Throne built against one wall that was clearly of Imperial design and recent construction but modelled rather closely on the one that had contained the remains of the last person to attempt Acina's folly. This throne's inhabitant, though, was still alive - and focused on a control panel set into one of the Throne's arms, an Imperial datapad, from the look of it, repurposed and wired into the system that Acina was attempting to manhandle. She was protected, too, by a forcefield - not a Forcefield, but a thing of mundane energy that would nonetheless fail to be felled by Eirn's lightsaber.

Eirn entering the lab, of course, changed at least some of that - Acina looked up sharply, before immediately scowling. 'Well don't just stand there,' Acina snapped, looking sharply to the lab's other lone inhabitant - her Major, Eirn's Major - who, in turn, abruptly wore an expression not unlike a deer in headlights. Quinn had always managed to rearrange his expressions promptly, of course, and it was gone as quickly as it was there, but the abrupt, surprised terror didn't fade nearly as quickly from his aura.

There they were - there she was, faced with the one person that she wanted to fight with the least on this cursed sphere. He seemed to be as thrilled by this as she was, though it was little comfort - especially given the way his gaze kept flickering to his blaster (currently placed to one side, on the control panel he'd been monitoring) as though he was thinking about actually attempting to use it.

'Major Quinn,' Eirn started - not even sure where she was going to go with this, but she wasn't about to let this encounter be directed by someone else. 'I have no quarrel with you. But I can't let Acina do this.'

'My lord,' Quinn started, speaking up - standing, pulling himself into as confident a position as he could muster. It wasn't a convincing confidence - his fear radiated through the Force, and Eirn wondered which one of them, exactly, he was attempting to lie to. 'This has gone far enough. You are a traitor to the Empire, and I am asking you to stand down. Surrender peacefully, and you will be treated fairly.'

Words that had been spoken to her before, though not by him, and for a moment, her memories of the Empire's version of fair snarled unpleasantly. She extinguished her saber, though, clipping it to her belt - and, after a moment, unclipped her helmet's faceplate, too. If nothing else, it felt good to feel air on her skin - her helmet had been becoming the worst kind of claustrophobic, and being able to breathe always made life so much easier.

(More than that, though, it humanised her; made a person, with a face, and not a nameless, monstrous Sith. Not the Wrath, nor the Outlander, but- Eirnhaya Illte-Quinn, Darth Meliora, scarred and mortal and her)

'Malavai,' she started - looking right at him, grabbing his attention with his name, and refusing to let it go - 'Please. You know me. I have only ever acted for the best interests of the Empire. And right now, that means stopping this war before it gets started. Lower. The forcefield. Please.'

He just looked at her, though - glanced over her, his eyes darting over her armour - assessing it, assessing her. It was not the stiff, almost-ceremonial armour she'd been wearing on Darth Marr's vessel, all those years ago, but the same gear she'd had on Voss - and on Kaas, for that matter, battle-worn and battle-proven, scarred by each of Vitiate's living children but paradoxically stronger, for it. It wasn't Sith, though, but one of the Alliance's own design and manufacture, as much an attempt to distance herself from the Empire and all it produced as it was a practical piece of gear. If nothing else, Eirn knew the importance of costume - of the messages it sent, the meanings it held, and- well, for Sith, the whole galaxy was expected to be their stage.

'You lower that forcefield, Major,' Acina spat, safe for now on her fabricated throne, 'And I'll make you wish I'd left you where I found you.'

'Malavai,' Eirn repeated, ignoring her - attempting to ignore her, and not entirely succeeding, 'Please, listen to me. What- the Empress is doing, right now, it's been tried before. But it didn't work. Iokath's own creators died because the weapon fired indiscriminately. If that happens again- everyone here will die, and the Empire will have a war on its hands it can't afford-'

'I have total control,' Acina hissed - still tapping frantically at the control panel, though, a nervous terror propelling her movements that put lie to that statement. 'And as for you, Wrath,' she added - the venom in her tone twisting up into something else entirely, at Eirn's ancient, hated, title, 'When I am finished with you, you'll wish we'd executed you for Ziost.'

The theatrical threats of Sith were nothing new, though hearing them from Acina was - and to hear such a promise made by one who had courted more than simple attention, once, made Eirn wince unpleasantly. Not just the words, but the venom with which they were spoken; this was not the verbal sparring of rival Sith, but the hatred that all acolytes were taught to nurture following an inevitable betrayal.

A for-real traitor, Illte. Only one of you is walking away from this.

She was saved from having to respond by an alarm blaring - a local one, contained to the control panel that Quinn was standing watch over, and which grabbed his attention from the rest of the room quite entirely.

'Empress,' Quinn started, a note of concern in his voice, 'Synchronisation rate is rapidly decreasing-'

'Then get rid of Illte,' Acina hissed, through clenched teeth, 'So I can focus-'

'Stop this, Acina,' Eirn interrupted, ignoring that remark. 'Whoever wanted you here- fed you- bad intel from the beginning,' she started - grabbing at that piece of information, determined to make some use of it. 'There's no way for you to succeed-'

'And how would you know, Wrath,' Acina growled, baring her teeth, 'Unless you were the one to sabotage us-?'

'Empress,' Quinn repeated, far more urgently, 'I am reading massive power buildup in the ancillary stations. The system can't handle this-'

'Malavai,' Eirn repeated, switching her attempts back to him, 'Lower the forcefield. Please. Let me get her out of there.'

He was looking right at Eirn, in turn, forcing himself to, his eyes constantly darting away before he forced them back to hers. They seemed- he seemed, stubborn and defiant and- afraid, though Eirn found it impossible to fathom out what of. Her? Acina? The Republic? All valid things to be afraid of, in that moment - Eirn was just as terrified, of all of them, in varying quantities - but most of all, right in that moment, it was dying - pointlessly, and stupidly, and utterly needlessly.

That alarm sounding again snapped her out of it, though - shattered the moment, snapping the both of them out of whatever reverie they'd been in and prompting Quinn to immediately start tapping at his own panel. For an awful moment, Eirn was convinced that he was continuing to ignore her, that he was still going along with Acina's mad scheme - and then he wasn't, the forcefield was down and Eirn, seeing her chance, seized it with both hands.

'Acina,' Eirn started - taking the first steps past the boundary, towards her - saber out, but not yet lit. 'This is your final chance. Stop this, before it's too late.'

Acina, though, was barely paying her attention - had abruptly ceased her tapping at the control panel, and was staring off into some unseen distance.

'I see it,' she whispered - her gaze distant and her focus elsewhere. 'It's- so beautiful...'

All Eirn saw, though, was the Empress, staring off into some middle distance as the Force pulsed through and round her, flowing from the Throne, from Iokath itself, stronger than it had before - strong enough that Acina's own aura was drowned out, strong enough that for a moment, all Eirn could feel was the artificial heartbeat of this hollow world.

'Dammit, Acina,' Eirn muttered, pushing forward - closing the space between her and the Sith Empress, half expecting Acina to finally stand or push back and half grateful she wasn't and half slowly realising that something else here was already very wrong. It was far too late to do anything about it, though, except the half-baked plan she'd already committed to. At the very least, removing Acina from the Throne would break whatever connection she had to Iokath, which was why Eirn reached out for the Empress - grabbing her by her robes and yanking her away from her counterfeit control throne, the same way Senya had once abruptly yanked her from Zakuul's throne, severing Vitiate's grasp on his once-fleet (and like the fleet, Eirn reasoned, with no input, the weapon would power down and they could have a sensible discussion, like the adults they were-)

-but the Force, as always, had other ideas.

#swtor #war for iokath #sith warrior #ficlet: unification #my writing #outlander!eirn #empress acina #malavai quinn

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rajatchaks · 6 years ago

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The spiritual town of Mahabalipuram lies 56 km from Chennai International Airport, on the way to Pondicherry. A small yet historic town, Mahabalipuram tells the stories of Mahabharata through its rich architectural galore. Who says rocks do not have life??

The History Of Mahabalipuram

The ancient town of Mahabalipuram derives its name from Mamallapuram, or the city of Mamalla. Ptolemy, the Greek Philosopher named the town as Malange.

The artistic monoliths of Mahabalipuram are attributed to the Pallava Kings of the 7th Century AD, who ruled the famous sea port and trade center of Mamallapuram. The advent of the European travelers in the early 7th Century also referred the name of Mahabalipuram as the land of the “Seven Pagodas”.

Read:- Pondicherry Tales – Prelude

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A Glimpse into the Pallava Dynasty

The Pallava Rulers, who constructed this majestic port town, ruled the area since early 3rd Century with their capital in Kanchi.

Archaeologists during their several explorations have unearthed Roman coins and pottery which is a testimony to the foreign trade in this part of the Indian territory.

There is no doubt that the Pallava rulers through their artistic fervor, documenting scriptures and countless seafaring exchanges for trade and commerce with the other parts of the world have helped in the spread of the Hindu culture beyond the Indian boundaries.

Strolling The Streets of Mahabalipuram

On the way to Pondicherry, we decided to halt at Mahabalipuram. The small town of Mahabalipuram delves deep into the fine art and craftsmanship. The entire town lives and breathes on art.

Check Out Taxis from Mahabalipuram To Pondicherry

As you walk through the narrow lanes of the town, you can hear the clanking sounds of the hammers and chisels coming from all directions, relentlessly trying to sync one another.

The craftsmen work with unrelenting focus, with every strike of hammer gently giving shape to an impeccable masterpiece. They are so much into it that they have no clue about the people passing by. Their ultimate reward lies in bringing their imagination to life.

And do they succeed in creating one!

Dialogue with the Monoliths

As you venture through the streets, you will feel teleported to the ancient times. Traditional markets, a lake in the center of the town, handicraft shops and small scale traditional industries, all in the backdrop of a monolithic landscape of temples.

Most of the temples in Mahabalipuram are rock-cut monoliths, that is, they have been chiseled out from one single piece of rock. But, there are temples in rock masonry as well.

The monuments here can be defined as the monoliths, caves,temples and sculpted panoramas.

The Arjuna’s Penance

The Arjuna’s penance is the first remarkable stone inscription that crosses your eye. A panoramic sculpture inscribed on the rock, this single inscription is a journey in itself. The journey of Arjuna’s penance.

This sculpture is about 43′ in height and 96′ wide, and is carved out between two adjacent boulders connected at the center. The Arjuna’s penance relates to two different legends. Several other small incidences run in parallel to the episode.

The first one indicates Arjuna in a severe meditation pose, standing on one leg (top left) in order to obtain Lord Shiva’s Weapon. Lord Shiva stands next to Arjuna. On the either side of the rock partition on the top, the sun and the moon Gods (with circular discs behind their heads) observe the penance. In between the rocks, you can also see the Nagraj and Nagrani ( The king and queen of the serpents) observing the penance.

At bottom left, the Rishi teaching the students in none other than Guru Dronacharya and their beheaded bodies simply indicate their bodies here but minds wandering somewhere else.

At bottom right, a monkey tries to imitate Arjuna’s penance but gets caught immediately with its bloated belly; unlike Arjuna who fasts as a part of his austerity, whereas the cat has been slyly feeding upon the rats moving around near its feet.

The second legend speaks of Sage Bhagiratha who engages in austerities to bring the Ganges down to the earth. Lord Shiva realizing that the earth would not be able to hold the enormity and force of Ganges water tries to break its flow with his hair.

Krishna Mandapam

The Krishna Mandapam is a pictographic journey through the various moods and gestures of Krishna, in his daily life. A combination of rock cut cave and a sculpted panorama on rock surface have been used. The style is a combination of Indian and Roman architecture evident from the way the lions on the left end of the wall have been crafted out.

Krishna’s Butterball

The Krishna’s Butterball is a paradox to the laws of gravity and scientific logic. Resting on the slope of a hillock, the Krishna’s Butterball has been tested over time in both natural and human capacity to move from its place but to no avail.

The Ganesha Ratha (Chariot)

The Ganesha Chariot or the Ganesh Ratha is an intricately designed temple in the form of a chariot designed with a mix of Pallava and Greek architecture.

The Varaha Cave

The Varaha cave displays one of the ten avatars (Dashavtars) of Lord Vishnu when he tries to protect the Bhudevi (Goddess of Earth) after she is tormented by the demon Hiranyaksha.

The Trimurti Cave

The Trimurti Caves is dedicated to the Trinity – The Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh. The three temples are carved out in a sequence into the rock structure.

You can access the temple through a large passage cut out through a solid rock. These rocks also display how the artisans used the ancient methodology to split massive boulders.

A series of close knit holes are drilled on the rock face. These holes are then loaded with hollow bamboo rods filled with cold water. The water would expand at lower temperatures to crack open the rock.

While the method is scientifically applicable and possible, what is intriguing is the weather in this part of the country. Mahabalipuram has a sultry weather being close to the coastline and the winters are usually pleasant than cold. For water to reach its expansion phase, the temperatures should actually fall to 4 degrees.

The Shore Temple

The last part of our exploration was The Shore Temple. Just half a kilometer walk from the monoliths is the Shore Temple.

The Shore Temple Complex unlike the rest of the monolithic structures is constructed overground made out of granite. The temple was constructed under the rule of King Narasimhavarman-II and acted as a landmark for the seafarers of the time.

A well manicured grass lawn surrounds the temple and is protected by a huge wired boundary wall acting as a barrier between the main temple and the coastline. A pavement connects the main temple with the entrance gate.

The rough seas often close in on the neighboring monuments during high tide. When we reached the temple in the evening, the thick dark clouds had started to cover the skyline. The sea waves also began to gain height and it partially covered the Mahishasura Rock on the shore.

The central sanctum of the temple is essentially a Shivalingam and is placed in the main shrine of the temple. Two other shrines placed adjacent to the main shrine are also present of which the second one too is dedicated to Shiva.