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oh god

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Taehyung wouldn’t say it was obvious . No, his hyung was hiding it well. Taehyung was just observant and over the years he’d known Yoongi…well, some things just weren’t adding up. 


Or rather, they were adding up, but to a very different answer than what most people would have expected.


In short, Yoongi was a god and Taehyung intended to prove it. 


Let’s start at the beginning. 


Yoongi was a gifted musician, there wasn’t any doubt about that. And had it been that alone, then maybe Taehyung never would have noticed. No, the event, or series of events, that made him start to look a little closer was actually Yoongi’s uncanny ability to predict things. 


Now, Taehyung knew that ARMY had caught on to this pretty quickly, even giving Yoongi the nickname “Minstradamus” but there were other incidents too, incidents that anyone else might have overlooked. Not Taehyung. 


“Hey hyung, what time is it?” Tae asked from where he was sprawled on the couch, watching some variety show he was only half-interested in. He’d left his phone…somewhere. He wasn’t actually sure where it was, but it was probably in the dorm somewhere. He’d find it later. 


Yoongi was curled up on the other end of the couch, his phone lying face-down on the coffee table in front of him. 


Namjoon, however, had just walked in as Tae asked his question, both him and Yoongi answering the question at the same time.


“Nine thirty-seven.”  


“Ah, it’s nine thirty…seven, you’re right, hyung,” Namjoon grinned, looking up from his phone. “What a lucky guess!” 


Yoongi shrugged, eyes glued to the television. 


A lucky guess indeed. Only, it happened all the time. Taehyung had made something of a game of it. Not too often, of course, he didn’t want Yoongi growing suspicious. So maybe once a week or so, Taehyung would ask for the time when Yoongi wasn’t on his phone or wearing a watch, and see if he’d guess the time correctly. 


He did. 


Every time. 


Now, this wasn’t enough to prove that he was a god, per se. Only that he seemed to have eerie powers of prediction (prophecy?). But it was enough to make Taehyung start to pay even closer attention, trying to see if there were other signs he was missing. 


Of course, once he started looking, the signs were everywhere. 


Of course, if he’d have asked Namjoon-hyung, he would have said that it was purely “confirmation bias” but was it really a bias if it was the truth? 


Yoongi would often open doors just as someone was about to knock. 


Yoongi would pick up his phone at the exact moment it began to ring or chime with a notification. 


If Taehyung had a nightmare, when he woke up, Yoongi would be there with a hug first thing in the morning, even if Tae acted completely normal and not at all like the dream had affected him. 


Once, Jungkook had sprained his ankle, and when they’d gotten back to the dorm, Yoongi had been wrapping a cold compress in a washcloth and herding Jungkook to the couch, propping his ankle up on the coffee table. Tae asked, but no one had texted him in advance. 


They’d laughed it off, of course, just another incident of Yoongi’s uncanny abilities. But Taehyung wasn’t so sure. 


It kept him up at night, wondering what, exactly, Yoongi was, and he wracked his brain for other examples of potential evidence for the supernatural. 


Like the fact that there were some things, random things, that Yoongi was just good at. 


Like that archery competition. For someone who’d never shot a bow before, he’d done remarkably well. 


“Hmm…archery…gift of prophecy…” Tae mused one day, lying sprawled on his bed, listening to the sounds of everyone else already up and about. He’d been awake for a while, had gotten dressed and everything, but had returned to his bed on account of how comfortable it was. 


“…and a musical genius…” Tae reached for his phone on the nightstand, opening Naver and considering what to type. “God of prophecy” maybe? Tae considered this. Was prophecy really the one thing that defined Yoongi? Of course not. 


Huffing a laugh, Tae reconsidered his search. “God of music” would probably be more accurate, after all. So he typed it in the search bar and his eyes widened at the first result. 


…Apollo has been recognized as a god of music, archery, dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more…”


The thought was laughable, of course. Why on earth would Yoongi, a Korean man in his twenties, secretly be the Greek god Apollo? But the more that Taehyung read the article, the more it became…feasible. 


Yoongi’s musical abilities were prodigious, from being able to play the piano by ear, to being recognized for his work as a producer, to the way that he seemed to be able to write new songs in a day…his musical talent was unquestionable. 


Then, like Tae had noticed, Yoongi was actually pretty good at archery, surprisingly so. 


And even though he wasn’t on the dance line, he was by no means a bad dancer. On the contrary, hundreds of fancams attesting to his dancing skills could prove this.


Truth and prophecy checked out, of course, and even healing wasn’t too far off. He wasn’t overt about it, not as maternal as Jin, but he did care for them in quiet, subtle ways, especially when one of them was hurt or sick. 


Sun and light…okay, maybe that one was a bit of a stretch, since Yoongi seemed to prefer to write and compose at night, and almost avoided sunlight whenever possible. 


But then there was rap, which was basically poetry, so that checked out, too. 


Really, there was far more evidence to support this theory than not. 


“Yah, Taehyung-ah, are you coming to eat breakfast or what!” Jin called from the kitchen. 


“Coming, hyung!” Tae shouted back, getting up with a sigh. 


Everyone was already seated when Tae arrived, so he took the only available seat, which was directly across from Yoongi. 


“Alright guys, it’s our first day on break!” Jungkook grinned. “What’s everyone planning on doing?” 


“I’m staying home and reading, ideally without pants.” Namjoon’s declaration was met with varied responses, ranging from Hoseok’s scandalized face, to Jin’s windshield wiper laugh, and a chorus of catcalls from Jimin, Tae and Jungkook. 


“I didn’t mean it like that …it’s just more comfortable—” Namjoon tried to defend, blushing, but it was too late. The damage had been done. 


“I’m going to the studio,” Yoongi said simply, surprising absolutely no one. 


“Hyung! We’re on break! You should relax!” Jimin protested. 


“I am relaxing,” Yoongi insisted. “Working on my own stuff, rather than band stuff.” 


Jimin nodded, “Okay, that’s alright, then. Just don’t work too hard, hyung. We’re supposed to be resting!” 


Yoongi agreed, but they all knew he’d be out late anyway. Six years together meant everyone pretty much had each others’ habits down pat. 


“Well Jimin-hyung said we’d go to the dance studio today and maybe record another choreography video,” Jungkook said, Jimin nodding his agreement. 


Tae zoned out as everyone was discussing their plans, only vaguely aware that Hoseok was planning on tagging along to the studio, and Jin was going to (predictably) stay home with Namjoon. 


Tae wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his day. 


Eventually, after breakfast, when everyone who had planned on leaving the dorm had, Taehyung decided he didn’t want to stay home all day. He pulled on a jacket, hat, and face mask and grabbed his camera before heading out, planning on maybe taking some pictures while he was out. 


Taehyung wandered a bit, letting his feet carry him wherever they would, stopping to photograph changing autumn leaves, sunlight filtering through clouds, and a particularly cute, fluffy dog that reminded him of Yeontan. 


His wanderings led him to the studio, which he supposed wasn’t unusual—he often ended up here, whether to dance or to spend time with Yoongi. 


Today, he headed straight to Genius Lab, knocking on the door gently at first. 


“Hyung? Yoongi-hyung?” He called, not surprised when he didn’t get a response. 


To: Yoongi-hyung



>can i come in?

From: Yoongi-hyung

>you’re here?

>one sec


The door swung open a moment later, revealing a rather sleepy-looking Yoongi (despite it being mid-morning). Taehyung entered, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately throwing himself on Yoongi’s couch. 


Yoongi snorted in amusement and went back to his desk. 


“What brings you here, Taehyung-ah?” 


“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d come visit my favorite hyung…” Taehyung grinned, wide and boxy. 


Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head, “Don’t let the other hyungs hear you. Jin-hyung especially, would throw a fit.” 


“Ah, you’re right, hyung. It can be our secret then, yeah?” Taehyung asked, still grinning. 


“Of course.” 


Tae smiled, adjusting his position on the couch to give him a better view of what Yoongi was doing. He thought about secrets. Wondered if Yoongi would ever trust him with his. Wondered what Yoongi would do if he just came right out and said it. 


Yoongi had gone back to producing, but Tae could see that the left side of his headphones were half-off his ear, presumably to hear if Tae said anything. The thought warmed his heart. 


Tae let him work uninterrupted for a few hours, choosing instead to scroll through twitter, then reply to some of ARMY’s posts on Weverse. Eventually, he posted a selca—an older one taken a few weeks ago—and then spent some time reading through the comments that came pouring in immediately after. 


Tae’s stomach broke the comfortable silence with a loud growl when he realized it was already a couple hours past lunchtime. 


“Hungry?” Yoongi asked, eyes still focused on his work.


“I’m suddenly starving, hyung,” Tae admitted.


Yoongi shifted in his chair to reach the wallet in his back pocket. He pulled out his credit card, matte black like they all have, and swiveled in his chair, handing it to Taehyung with a smile. 


“Get whatever you want, but bring me back some too.” 


Taehyung was, of course, more than capable of paying, but he knew that Yoongi liked taking care of his dongsaengs like this, and truthfully, Taehyung liked feeling taken care of. So he accepted the card, smiling brightly. 


“Okay! Are you craving anything in particular?” 


“Meat,” He grinned. “Actually, lamb skewers.” 


Taehyung nodded, already rising from the couch and slipping his shoes back on. “Okay hyung, I’ll be right back.” 


Yoongi nodded and swiveled back around, going back to what he was doing as Tae let himself out. 


There was a place that sold lamb skewers around the block from the studio, which is where Tae headed. Since they missed eating lunch at a regular lunch time, the restaurant is mostly empty when Taehyung walked in, the lunch crowd having already left. So it didn’t take long for him to get his order and head back to Yoongi’s studio. 


He got back in maybe twenty minutes, knocking on the door, firmly this time. 


Yoongi must not have put his headphones back on all the way, because he opened the door a moment later and Tae entered, toeing off his shoes and unpacking their lunch on Yoongi’s coffee table before handing him back his credit card. 






“Do you trust me?” 


Yoongi instantly looked suspicious, and Taehyung supposed that maybe that wasn’t the best way to phrase the question. 


“…yes?” Yoongi said, though he sounded unsure. “Why?” 


Taehyung bit his lip. “Well I mean…I trust you hyung.” 


“That’s good, Tae, I’m glad…” 


“I tell you secrets, and I know you’ll keep them.” 


“Is this about earlier…?” Yoongi looked confused, and Tae had to admit that he looked adorable like this, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as he tried to understand where the conversation was heading. 


“Would you tell me your secrets, hyung?” Tae asked, eyes wide and hopeful and earnest. 


Yoongi’s face softened into a smile, chuckling as he picks up another lamb skewer. “Sure, Taehyung-ah. If I had secrets to tell, I’d tell you.” 


Tae narrowed his eyes. It sounded like a platitude. He watched Yoongi as he chewed and then came to a decision. 


“Then when were you going to tell me you’re actually the Greek god Apollo?” 


Yoongi choked. 


Tae helpfully patted him on the back.


“Taehyung, what the fuck,” He coughed, reaching for a bottle of water and taking sips in between coughing fits. 


“Sorry hyung,” Tae winced, his back pats turning into back rubs as Yoongi no longer seemed to be dying. Eventually he let his hand drop back into his lap. 


“No really, Tae, where is this coming from?” Yoongi asked once he was able to breathe again. 


“Ah. Well. I’ve been doing some research…” Tae explained. “It just…it adds up, hyung. I’m not going to tell anyone though, don’t worry.”  


He couldn’t quite decipher the look on Yoongi’s face, but he could tell it was guarded. 


What , exactly, adds up?” Yoongi asked after a long, awkward moment in which they do nothing but stare at each other wordlessly. 


“Well…Apollo is the god of music and prophecy and you’re really good at those, and also a bunch of other stuff that made a lot of sense once I thought about it,” Tae explained in a rush, like he was afraid Yoongi would cut him off midway. 


Yoongi was silent for another long moment. And then, quite unpredictably, he began to laugh. 


No, not just a chuckle, but a full belly laugh that had tears welling up in his eyes.

“…hyung?” Tae asked, starting to worry as the laughter subsided. 


“Ah, Taehyung-ah…” Yoongi gasped between bouts of laughter, “of course it’d be you, of all people.” 


“What do you mean?” 


“Thousands of years, and you’re the first person to actually figure it out,” Yoongi chuckled, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his shirt sleeve. 


“Wait. Wait, I’m right ?” Taehyung gasped. 


Yoongi nodded. “Honestly, I can’t fucking believe it. I thought I was being real subtle.” He shook his head ruefully. 


“Well I mean, it wasn’t obvious, not at first. But all the little things started adding up and then the more I looked for evidence, the more there was…and then my mind just made the leap, I guess.” 


Yoongi nodded, like that made sense, like there was any kind of rationality to the way that Tae’s mind worked, jumping to wild conclusions that, somehow , turned out to be correct. 


“I guess, in hindsight, I should have known that if anyone was able to make that leap in logic and figure it out, it’d be you,” He said, nodding his head towards Tae and smiling fondly. 


“Wait!” Tae exclaimed as a thought occurred to him. “Is it weird? To, you know, sing Dionysus, given that you’re…” 


Yoongi snorted a laugh. “No. But I did get a phone call about it afterwards. He found it funny.” 


Tae’s eyes widened. “You have Dionysus’ phone number? Wait. Are you fucking with me, hyung?” He asked suspiciously. 


“Yeah, we keep in touch. We’re all kind of scattered now. The world is a lot more interesting than it used to be. Hell, the past fifty years alone have been more interesting than the last millenia.”


“But what about all the cool history?” Taehyung protested. “The rise and fall of civilizations! Inventions and human ingenuity over the years!” 


Yoongi leveled him a dry look. “The best thing mankind has managed to invent so far has been the internet. I will take cute cat pictures over the black plague any day .” 


“So what else can you do, hyung?”


“Yah, I’m not a circus animal! You can’t just ask me to perform tricks for you!” Yoongi pouted, eating another skewer. 


Tae laughed, “C’mon hyung, you won’t show off for me?” He teased. 


Incredibly, Yoongi blushed, eyes darting away.


“I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable…” 


“No, no, it’s fine,” Yoongi assured him. He looked around himself, and then…grabbed a lyre. Out of thin air. 


Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, unable to completely process how Yoongi had managed to make the instrument appear in his hand like he’d been holding it the entire time. However, Yoongi’s demonstration wasn’t done. 


His lips pouted in concentration as he strummed out a melody that was as complex as it was beautiful, then set the lyre aside to hover in midair. 


The now floating lyre continued to play not just the short melody Yoongi had played, but a full song. 


Taehyung’s mouth was still open in shock. 


“Taehyung-ah?” Yoongi asked tentatively, seemingly worried about his response, or lack thereof. 


“Yoongi-hyung…you’re a god…” Taehyung breathed, looking from the lyre to Yoongi, then back at the lyre, strumming away happily on its own. 


Yoongi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m still me, Tae.” 


Taehyung turned back to Yoongi, still looking awestruck, but processing it better now. Despite having spent years collecting evidence for this theory, there was still a part of him that had believed Yoongi would laugh and tell him that they were all coincidences and that he had an overactive imagination. 


Taehyung wasn’t sure what to do with confirmation. Did this change anything between them? Would things be different now that he knew Yoongi’s secret, confirmed by Yoongi himself? Maybe, but it didn’t have to be a bad kind of different. Maybe this shared secret would bring them closer together. Taehyung liked the idea. 


“You’re right, hyung,” he said after a moment. “You’re still you.” 


Yoongi smiled, looking very relieved as he polished off the last of his lamb skewers.




Nothing changed dramatically after Taehyung got confirmation that Yoongi was, in fact, the god of music, but he was right in that the shared secret seemed to bring them closer. 


Yoongi, for one, was a lot softer around Taehyung. He’d smile fondly any time their eyes met, whether they were sitting next to each other, or across a room. He accepted Tae’s skinship with greater ease, barely protesting the hugs and cuddles and hand-holding (because Tae was observant and knew that was Yoongi’s absolute Favorite Thing) before ultimately giving in and then returning the affection. 


Taehyung had never been happier. 


It was no secret that he’d always admired Yoongi (and okay, maybe he had a bit of a crush on him too), but as he lay awake in bed some nights, poring over stories from Greek mythology, he couldn’t help but think about Yoongi in ancient Greece. 


He knew from the stories that gods could take whatever form they pleased, so it would make sense that the way Yoongi looked now was probably chosen to be able to fit in comfortably with the place and time period he was living in. 


So even though Tae logically knew that Yoongi probably looked a lot different when he was in Greece (especially going by artists’ renderings of the god), when he imagined the way he’d look in a chiton and strappy sandals, it was current Yoongi that he imagined. 


And why was Taehyung imagining Yoongi in a chiton and strappy sandals? Because clearly he was a masochist. There was no other explanation. 


Still, the thought of Yoongi in such revealing clothing was…intriguing. On a purely scholarly basis. You know, since it was such a rare occurrence for Yoongi to be anything but entirely covered up. So, intriguing. 


But then one night Taehyung had a dream in which a larger-than-life Yoongi, sitting perched on a massive throne in an equally massive Greek temple, accepted the prayers and offerings of his devotees, devout worshippers coming to kneel at his feet, content just to be able to bask in his presence. 


In the dream, Taehyung was one such acolyte, kneeling at the foot of the massive throne and bowing his head in supplication, averting his eyes in respect. 


It wasn’t a long dream, just a small scene packed between other dreams that ebbed and flowed into each other, mixing and melding into strange and fantastical imagery. In fact, he almost didn’t remember the dream at all, until breakfast when he saw Yoongi emerge from his room, half-asleep, and with the stretched-out neck of his oversized tee hanging down off one shoulder, revealing pale skin and defined collarbones. 


The urge to kiss and lick his way across that exposed stretch of skin was so strong, he had to look away, averting his eyes like he had in the dream. The memory of which brought a blush to his cheeks. 


“Are you okay, Taehyungie?” Jin asked, rounding the table to press the back of his hand to Tae’s forehand. “You seem a little flushed.” 


“No, yeah, I’m fine!” Tae insisted, grinning widely in a way he hoped was reassuring and not manic. 


“You sure? Maybe you should stay home just in case you’re coming down with something…” Namjoon suggested, brow furrowed in concern. 


More denials were on the tip of his tongue, but his hyungs’ concern had already spread to the rest of the group, including a sleepy-but-worried Yoongi who pouted and nodded solemnly in agreement that Tae should stay home and rest. 


So after breakfast and after everyone else scattered to go about their day, Tae found his way to the couch, arms full of a huge fluffy blanket. It was the softest blanket he owned, and it was delightful to burrow into, especially on lazy days like this one. 


However, when he got to the living room, he realized that the couch was already occupied. There Yoongi was, lying on his side, one hand tucked beneath his head, and the other scrolling through his phone. 


Tae grinned, unfurling the blanket and holding it behind him like a cape so it would drape over both of them when he crawled over Yoongi and settled on top of him with a long, drawn-out exclamation of “Yoongi-hyuuuuuuung!” 


Yoongi grunted softly with the impact, but turned until he was on his back looking up at Tae, setting his phone on the coffee table. 


“Hey Tae,” Yoongi said softly, hands coming to rest lightly on Tae’s waist to stabilize him. 


Tae scooted down a bit, lying between Yoongi’s spread thighs, and resting his head on his hyung’s chest, trying not to put too much weight on him and interfere with his ability to breathe. 


“Let’s nap, hyung,” Tae suggested, snuggling into Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi didn’t seem opposed to the idea, sighing contentedly and running his fingers through Tae’s hair. 


“You’re taking it really well, you know,” Yoongi said after some time had passed in which Tae thought he might have fallen asleep. 




“My identity,” he clarified. Tae hummed in understanding. 


“Well you were right, hyung. You’re still you. Just even more badass than I originally thought you were.” 


Yoongi snorted in amusement. “Is that so?” 


“Mmm, yeah.” 


“I guess I just expected you to have more questions,” Yoongi said, and Taehyung took it as Yoongi wanting to be asked questions. 


It made sense, he supposed, Yoongi must not get the chance to talk about this side of him very often, if ever. So in a way, this wasn’t much different from Yoongi wanting to share and talk about the music he produced, or the lyrics he’d written. 


“Well I have been thinking about it, hyung. I didn’t know you would be comfortable with questions…” 


From where he was, laid against Yoongi’s chest, Taehyung could hear his heartbeat and could feel the way his chest expanded with each breath. It was profoundly comforting, especially combined with the way Yoongi’s fingers kept combing through Taehyung’s hair, his other hand still resting on Taehyung’s lower back. 


“What do you want to know?” 


Taehyung’s mind went back to the dream he’d had, and hoped Yoongi couldn’t see his flushed cheeks from his angle. 


“Is it weird, hyung? Living in the twenty-first century?” 


Yoongi chuckled, “you’re going to need to be more specific, Taehyung-ah.” 


“I mean…back then you were, you know, worshipped. ” Taehyung tried not to focus on his dream, or on the thoughts that had followed.


“But now, hyung, I mean…statistically, most of the world is monotheistic…” Taehyung trailed off, suddenly conscious of the fact that this could be a potentially sore spot for Yoongi, but his fears ultimately proved to be entirely unfounded because a moment later, when it was clear Taehyung wasn’t going to say anything further, Yoongi started laughing. 




“No, no, it’s fine. I can see why you’d wonder,” he chuckled. “It’s honestly not that bad. Means I can go about my business and not have to worry so much about getting recognized. Also means a lot fewer prayers to listen and respond to.” 


Yoongi shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered. 


“How does that work? The…prayers,” Taehyung asked suddenly, latching onto one of the more technical aspects of godship.  


Yoongi’s fond smile only belied how much he enjoyed Taehyung’s questions, his interest. 


“Mmm, it’s difficult to explain, but I hear them. Wherever I am, I hear them, like someone standing beside me speaking into my ear.”


Taehyung frowned, “…in Greek? Or…” 


“No, in whichever language they’re spoken. That’s not a barrier. I can understand every language.” 


Spoken so matter-of-factly. So Yoongi. Taehyung couldn’t help but grin. 


“So that’s why you refuse to speak English until it’s convenient for you!” Taehyung exclaimed triumphantly. “You don’t want anyone knowing how you’re actually fully fluent!” 


“Ah. Yeah.” Yoongi admitted a little sheepishly. 


Taehyung couldn’t stop the giggles as he imagined what ARMY would think, if they could find out their theories about Yoongi being secretly fluent were all correct.


“What about…” he stopped himself, not sure if he really wanted to ask what was on his mind, the territory straying too close to topics that would only have him blushing again. 


“Hmm? What about what?” 


“Nevermind, hyung.” 


“No, ask me,” Yoongi insisted, patting his lower back imploringly. 


Ah, fuck it. 


“What about…the worship?” Taehyung asked, voice almost at a whisper. 


“The worship? I mean, that doesn’t really happen much anymore. Can’t really remember the last time, honestly…” Yoongi mused. 


“That’s exactly it, hyung. Don’t you…miss it?” Taehyung asked. 


Yoongi was quiet for a long time, seconds approaching minutes, and Taehyung didn’t think he’d answer. But then he heard it, the softest whisper. 




“Tell me, hyung,” Taehyung encouraged, squeezing his arms tighter around Yoongi.


Yoongi sighed deeply, sounding less like a man in his twenties, and more like a timeless, immortal being that had seen far too much in his lifetime. 


“I think, at least on a subconscious level, it’s part of why I decided to become an idol…even though it’s not quite the same, when the intent is fanaticism, not worship.”  


Taehyung nodded against Yoong’s chest. This made sense. 


“But sometimes it’s enough. When we perform…and ARMY is screaming their love at us, and we’re giving it right back…it’s enough,” Yoongi lets out a rueful chuckle, “I mean, I don’t have a choice, really. For me, it has to be enough, because that’s kind of all I have left.” 


Taehyung frowns now, a tightness in his chest as he considers Yoongi’s words. 


“But hyung…ARMY adores us. Isn’t adoration close to worship?” he asks. 


“Mmm, yes and no. It’s all about intent,” Yoongi explains. “They might love and adore us with equal or even greater fervor than their deity of choice, but…their hearts and minds aren’t fixed on worship when they’re at our shows, you know?” 


“Yeah, intent makes sense,” Taehyung agrees, and immediately begins planning. “What does it feel like, though? Worship?” 


“Ah. Taehyungie. Well,” Yoongi sounds almost embarrassed, and a quick glance up confirms that his cheeks are tinted a delicate pink. 


“Oh, so it’s like that… ” Taehyung teases, and Yoongi swats at his back lightly in protest. 


“Shut up, you brat,” he grumbles, but a smile teases at his lips anyway. 


Taehyung decides to drop it for now. 




One thing that Taehyung does not drop, however, is his Plan To Help Yoongi-hyung. Admittedly, he hasn’t quite fleshed it out in its entirety, but it goes like this: 


  1. Pray to Yoongi-hyung 
  2. Worship Yoongi-hyung

2b. Suck his dick maybe? 


It’s…not the best plan he’s ever come up with. 


Still. He’s determined. 


The first part starts awkwardly. Yoongi said he could hear all prayers from wherever he was, but was there a format? What counted as a prayer? His Naver search didn’t quite help either, since there didn’t seem to be any real kind of consistency across religions. 


The only consistent thing seemed to be to address the deity and then…speak to them? 


Taehyung decided maybe the easiest way to go about this would be to just…talk to Yoongi as if he was in the room with him. Share his thoughts, and see if Yoongi brought it up with him later. 


Surely if it worked, Yoongi would tell him, right? Especially if it sounded like Taehyung was just thinking out loud, Yoongi was a considerate person and would want to remind him that his words weren’t private. 


Yes. That was a brilliant idea. 


So the next time Taehyung was alone in the dorm, he pulled out his phone and began to play Yoongi’s mixtape. He needed inspiration, after all. 


“Ah, Yoongi-hyung. You’re so amazing. How are you this great of a musician? And your lyrics…wow, they just, they touch my soul…” he started, finding it to be less awkward than he originally thought. Emboldened, he continued. 


“I can’t even put into words how much I love your work! I look up to you so much, hyung, I hope one day to be as comfortable in my own art and creations as you are in yours. Because that’s what this is. Your mixtape is a work of art, and I pray you’ll release AgustD 2 sometime soon, because your music is a piece of your heart and I want to know it better…” Taehyung trailed off with a small, wistful sigh, wondering if it had worked. 


Yoongi didn’t bring it up. Not that day, not that week, even, so Taehyung figured it must not have been successful. 


Still, it had warmed his heart to voice his thoughts to a Yoongi that might or might not be listening, so he continued to do so. 


“Yoongi-hyung, your dancing has improved so much since we debuted, you seem so much more comfortable in your own skin and I’m glad. I pray that you always feel comfortable with yourself.” 


“The demo you showed me today touched me so deeply I almost cried, Yoongi-hyung. The bassline sounded like a heartbeat but the lyrics were raw and bloody, like the entire track was bleeding out. I don’t know how you manage to put so much emotion into your songs, but I pray you never stop.” 


“Yoongi-hyung, today you smiled and you looked so genuinely happy that I swear the room brightened with you. I pray that there is always joy and sunshine in your life.” 


Taehyung continued in this way for a few weeks, and Yoongi still gave no indication that he’d heard him. 


Even so, it became something of a ritual, especially as tour dates grew closer and their schedules became even busier than before. Whenever Taehyung had a free moment to himself—which was rare, but not unheard of—he’d slip away to privacy and whisper his prayers to empty rooms and open air.


The ritual of it was comforting, and Taehyung briefly wondered if this was why so many people were religious. 


What was not comforting, however, was this comeback’s concept. While Persona had flirted a bit with the Greek mythology symbolism in Dionysus, the concept hadn’t been fully explored. Not until now, anyway. 


It wasn’t so overt, of course, their concepts often had multiple interpretations, but one thing that could not be interpreted in any other way, was how the thyrsus that Namjoon had once held during Dionysus was now in Yoongi’s grip, and that was affecting Taehyung. 


See, if it had simply been the thyrsus, maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad. 


But then there was the golden laurel crown perched on Yoongi’s head. 


And the black fabric that was pinned across his shoulders and draped behind him more like a cape than the toga-like fits they’d worn for Dionysus. 


Underneath, of course, Yoongi was wearing a black suit. 


Taehyung was rather weak for Yoongi in a suit. 


So it happened that they were backstage getting hair and makeup done before the first concert on their world tour, and Taehyung was trying not to stare at Yoongi too much. But honestly how could he not, when Yoongi was sprawled lazily across an armchair, one hand holding the thyrsus and the other holding his phone while he stared at it disinterestedly. 


He was already in the full outfit he was going to perform in, and Taehyung honestly thought he looked every part the god he was. He was struck with the sudden desire to go and kneel at his feet…no, these were not thoughts he needed to be having, not right before a show. He needed to concentrate. 




Not think about how powerful Yoongi looked. 


Not think about how he could bring whole stadiums to their knees with a single word. 


Definitely not think about how he could bring Taehyung to his knees. 


Fortunately, once the concert started, he was far too busy to think about Yoongi or how good he looked. Too busy to think about anything other than protesting muscles and the adrenaline high that came from performing. 




Once they were back at their hotels, though, each in their respective rooms for the night, Taehyung found that all the thoughts he’d pushed from his mind before now came back with a vengeance. 


Already showered and ready for bed, Taehyung didn’t think twice about flopping down on the mattress and palming himself through his pajamas. He hadn’t quite made the decision to jerk off to thoughts of his bandmate, he was honestly just relieving some of the pressure. 


He was actually kind of exhausted, so he would have been just fine going straight to sleep, but his dick clearly had different ideas. 


With a soft sigh, Taehyung slipped his hand under his waistband, gripping himself properly and moaning softly. 


It took a while for his fantasies to coalesce into something other than vague images and snapshots of Yoongi dancing, Yoongi sitting, Yoongi rapping, Yoongi breathing


“Fuck,” Taehyung breathed, fully committed to what was happening now, and shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. Might as well do this right. 


Taehyung thumbed the head of his dick, spreading the precum that had already gathered, and shivering at how sensitive he already was. 


He started stroking himself slowly at first, letting his mind wander to his dream, although now he imagined the way Yoongi had looked backstage. The disinterest on his face as he scrolled through his phone. Taehyung wondered what it would take to make him lose his composure, make him fall apart, make him cry out Taehyung’s name like prayers falling from his pretty pink lips. 


“Oh fuck. Oh fuck Yoongi…” he hissed, dropping the honorific and feeling more sinful for that than for literally jerking off to him


He moaned a little louder, a little broken, as he upped the pace, imagining himself sucking Yoongi off, letting his slim hips jerk up into Taehyung’s mouth, happy to let Yoongi fuck his mouth if it meant getting to see the way his eyes glazed over in pleasure. 


“Please, please Yoongi, please, oh god , fuck…” he babbled, keening with pleasure as he grew progressively closer to his release. 


The moment, however, was ruined by rather loud and insistent knocking on his door. Taehyung’s eyes widened in panic as he sat up, hastily pulling up his pants and underwear as the knocking got louder. 


“Coming, coming…” he said, pulling the door open. 


“Not while you’re answering the door, I hope…” came the slightly muffled (and disgruntled) reply from a very familiar voice.


Taehyung opened the door, revealing a red-faced and scowling Yoongi. 


“Oh, um. Hyung,” he said awkwardly, trying to hide his erection behind the door. 


“Oh sure, now you remember honorifics,” Yoongi muttered, pushing past him into the room. 


“Um. Can I help you with something, hyung?” Taehyung asked awkwardly, still half-hard, even as he desperately tried to will his erection away. 


“Taehyung.” Yoongi had made himself comfortable sitting on the edge of Taehyung’s bed, at was looking at him almost sternly. 




Yoongi sighed, clearly not sure how to start this conversation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then rubbed the back of his neck as he looked anywhere but at Taehyung. 


“I could hear you,” is what he eventually said, and Taehyung blushed furiously. 


“Um. Just now? I thought you were across the hall…” he said quietly. 


“No, Taehyung. It um. If you say my name, it counts as a prayer…”


“Oh. OH .” Taehyung hid his face in his hands miserably. “I’m sorry hyung, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable! I won’t do—”


“You didn’t,” Yoongi cut him off.  




“Make me uncomfortable. You didn’t,” Yoongi clarified, still not meeting his eyes. 




They’re both silent for a moment. A long moment. A moment that begins to feel a little too stretched, too forced. 


“Um. So all this time…?” Taehyung ventured to ask when the silence became oppressive. 




“You could hear me?” 


“Oh. Ah, yes,” Yoongi confirmed. “I didn’t realize it was intentional at first, but after the first week…” 


Taehyung nodded, “I wasn’t sure if it was working or not. I…kind of expected you to say something,” he chuckled. 


“I considered it…” Yoongi said, picking at a loose thread on the bedspread. 


“You said it’d been a long time since someone prayed to you,” Taehyung said softly, shuffling forward and feeling less embarrassed now that he wasn’t hard anymore. 


“It had been, yeah,” he said, letting his head hang and hair obscure his eyes. 


“Was it…is it okay?” Taehyung asked, not sure if maybe he’d been crossing some kind of line. 


Yoongi nodded his affirmation in short jerky movements, cheeks pink. 


“I’d forgotten…how it felt…” he said softly, his voice not quite a whisper, but a low murmur, sounding like rolling thunder. 


Taehyung dropped to his knees, kneeling in front of Yoongi with the excuse of trying to get him to meet his eyes. 


He licked his lips nervously. 


“You also said it’d been a while…since anyone worshipped you. Properly, I mean.” 


Yoongi’s eyes shot up to meet his, almost wide with panic and barely-concealed desire. 


“Taehyung…” Yoongi warned half-heartedly. 


“Do you not want it, hyung? Tell me to stop,” he challenged, hands sliding up to Yoongi’s knees, and then, when he wasn’t pushed away, up to his thighs. 


“You don’t have—”


“Shh, I know I don’t have to. I want to,” Taehyung reassured him. “Will you let me, hyung? Will you let me worship you like you deserve?” 


Yoongi shivered at that, his knees widening a near imperceptible amount. But Taehyung noticed. 


He noticed the way Yoongi’s breath now came in irregular pants, the way his muscles tensed beneath Taehyung’s palms. 


He noticed the bright flush of pink on Yoongi’s cheeks, the way his eyes already looked a little lost and unfocused. 


He noticed the way that Yoongi’s sweatpants were starting to tent obscenely in front of Taehyung’s face. 


And when Taehyung’s fingers curled in his waistband, he noticed the way Yoongi obligingly lifted his hips to help him slide the layers of fabric down thin but toned thighs. 


Taehyung couldn’t help but marvel at his body, the way he wasn’t really skinny, but sculpted from lean, compact muscle. There was such power to Yoongi’s body, slight as he may have been, and Taehyung wanted nothing more than to kiss and lick and suck bruises into his pale, smooth thighs. 


Tossing Yoongi’s sweatpants and underwear to the side, Taehyung scooted closer, gently pushing Yoongi’s legs open wider so he could settle comfortably between them. 


Yoongi, however, was still avoiding looking at Taehyung directly, and Tae decided he rather wanted to change that. So he pressed his cheek to one of Yoongi’s thighs, looking up at him with wide, imploring eyes. 


“Will you not look at me, hyung?” he asked, smiling beatifically when Yoongi’s eyes snapped down to meet his. 


“I-I, ah…” Yoongi stuttered. 


“Please watch me, Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung asked, and Yoongi nodded once.


Satisfied with this, Taehyung reached up to grip Yoongi’s cock—pink and flushed and leaking all over itself—and brought it closer to his face so he could lick up the side with his head still resting on Yoongi’s thigh. 


Yoongi gasped, one hand dropping to rest in Taehyung’s hair, not applying any kind of pressure, but more to ground himself, it seemed. 


Smirking, Taehyung continued, licking up the shaft and pressing soft little kisses to the base of Yoongi’s cock, enjoying the way that his hyung squirmed under his touches which were nowhere near enough to get him off. 


When Taehyung finally licked at the head of his cock, Yoongi let out a long, drawn-out moan, legs spreading wider in invitation. 


Mmm, I’ve thought about this a lot, hyung…” Taehyung breathed, mouthing down the length of Yoongi’s erection. 


“I-is that so…?” Yoongi gasped, back arching as Taehyung sealed his lips around the head of his cock and swirled his tongue around it in the same motion. 


“…thought about how pretty you’d look when you’re overwhelmed, letting me give you what you need,” Taehyung said, releasing his cock with a wet pop


“When was the last time you were worshipped, hyung?” Taehyung asked, a moment before sinking down onto Yoongi’s cock, tongue pressed flat to the underside as he bobbed his head. All he could hear in the silence was the filthy wet sounds of his mouth on Yoongi’s cock, and Yoongi’s labored breathing interspersed with incomprehensible moans. 


“…answer me hyung, or I’ll stop,” Taehyung warned, grinning impishly when he came up for breath, his hand stroking Yoongi at a leisurely pace. 


“Fuck, fuck , okay. Uhh, I, fuck I don’t know …” Yoongi whined helplessly.


“When was the last time someone was kneeling at your feet…with complete devotion and adoration, hyung?” Taehyung asked, giggling when Yoongi’s groan tapered off into a sob as he fell back on the bed. 


Taehyung took him in his mouth again, this time swallowing him down to the base with only some difficulty. Yoongi wasn’t very long, but he was thick, and the girth made Taehyung’s jaw ache, but it was worth it for the way Yoongi cried out in pleasure. 


Taehyung pulled off after a moment, not wanting Yoongi to cum too soon, and instead pressed his cock against his cheek, pressing tiny chaste kisses against his heated flesh. 


Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows to watch Taehyung, his chest heaving and his mouth slack. 


“Fuck, Tae. Your mouth, shit .” Yoongi groaned, elongating the vowels in a whine that sounded more like a purr with the timbre of his voice. 


“You taste so good…” Taehyung moaned, one hand sneaking down to palm at his own erection. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten hard again, he’d been so focused on Yoongi. He was hard and aching, but determined to make Yoongi cum first. 


“Tae…Tae please… ” Yoongi whined, hips jerking slightly as Taehyung took him back in his mouth, this time swirling his tongue with purpose against the underside of his cock, and then swiping against the sensitive slit on the upstroke. 


“So good, s-so good , ahh Taehyung…” Yoongi babbled, head thrown back in pleasure and toes curling in pleasure against the rough hotel carpet. 


Taehyung would have told Yoongi to cum for him, but that would have meant taking Yoongi’s cock out of his mouth, which would have been counter-intuitive. So Taehyung settled for moaning around his cock, letting the vibrations bring him closer and closer to the edge.


Taehyung pushed through the ache in his jaw and the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, seeing the discomfort as a kind of sacrifice, maybe. The cost of getting to see Yoongi like this, so undone.


Yoongi’s abdomen tensing and his moans gaining in pitch and volume were enough to tell Taehyung that he was close, so he bobbed his head faster, sucked a little bit harder, moaning encouragingly. 


Yoongi came with a choked sob, falling back down on the bed, too weak to hold himself up any longer. Taehyung struggled to swallow it all, and some of it leaked out of the sides of his mouth, but still he sucked him through the aftershocks, only pulling off when Yoongi’s moans of pleasure turned to pain with oversensitivity. He pressed a last kiss to the head of Yoongi’s cock, smiling at the way Yoongi flinched slightly. 


“Let…let me…you…” Yoongi slurred, and Taehyung had an idea what he wanted, judging by the way he was reaching for him. 


“It’s okay, I uh, I finished already…” Taehyung admitted sheepishly, standing up to grab tissues from the nightstand and clean his hand off. 


Yoongi chuckled at this, and Taehyung found himself giggling back. 


“Oh my god, Tae, what the fuck was that?” Yoongi groaned, still smiling. 


“I told you, hyung. I wanted to worship you,” Taehyung said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, and maybe it was.


“Yeah, but…”


“And I’d like to do it again, and more, if that’s okay with you…” he ventured. 


“If it’s okay with me?” Yoongi outright laughed. “Oh god, Tae. I’ll let you do whatever you’d like if it’s going to feel like that .”


Taehung grinned widely and joined Yoongi on the bed, pulling him up to lay against his chest. 


“We should sleep, Yoongi-hyung. Our schedule is busy tomorrow.” 


Yoongi nodded sleepily, already halfway there. He yawned widely as Taehyung pulled the covers over them both, curling his arms around Yoongi and nuzzling against the back of his neck. 


“Taehyung?” Yoongi asked, moments away from sleep. 


“Yeah, hyung?” 


“You can drop the honorifics.” 


“Okay, Yoongi,” Taehyung grinned, pressing a kiss to the nape of Yoongi’s neck, tangling their legs together.