ONE-SHOTS [BTS OMORASHI]

Neglection [Min Yoongi]

A/N: Hey guys, how's quarantine? I hope you're all doing well, but anyways, I've got a new fic for y'all today :) I know I haven't been updating consistently (like at all) but I definitely appreciate the support you've all given me. Despite that, let me know what you think about it! I wrote this last night at like 2 AM and edited this morning.

Prompt: AU! Basically, Yoongi gets kidnapped. Our boy is slightly younger than he currently is.

Music: Requiem - Hisoka's theme song

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Yoongi would say he's lived a pretty boring life, up until now, his whole purpose was to work a part-time job at his local subway. Sure, it wasn't an ideal way of living, and most people fought him on it. Saying he'd much rather appreciate open land than the big city, that he'd rather stargaze than embody himself in cold sheets for the rest of his life—but frankly, Yoongi didn't quite know. He wasn't sure on what he truly wanted, and as twenty-three-year-old that was terrifying. Not because his days would pass before he realized it, but because he'd have to grow accustomed to the fact that he'd never do anything he dreamt of as a child.

It didn't matter anymore.

No, none of it did. His life, his dream—was nothing more than an infringement waiting for this very moment to take place. A part of him thought it was fate, but the other rationalizing that he was a victim and that he shouldn't blame such an unpredictable situation on himself. Yet, the part of him that wanted it to be his punishment outweighed the latter, staining his blue will with red throughout the universe.  The very moment of consciousness overdrives him, groggily fighting nausea that overwhelmed his sleepy wake. His body feels upmost heavy, sitting in the chains without lash-back. He's warm, burning, rather. Yoongi lets out a low moan, the chains rattling as his movements sway. It's unclear on where he is, nothing more than a plain room with a generous amount of blankets on the corner farthest from him, and the tangible yellow walls closing in on him. His position isn't any better, he's on his knees, his hands waving in the air of the bedroom while his ankles support his numbing ass. He groans again, this time growing more aware of his surroundings—his eyelids fluttering before his frequency begins to shake his body. He swallows thickly, trembling lips, pounding heart unmasking his anxiety. Thankfully, he's fully clothed, his blue (mostly bleached) jeans slightly tighter than before, and long-sleeved black turtle neck barely keeping him warm enough in the freezing space. He wanted nothing more than to barricade himself in the fluffy pile away from him. Yoongi's poor eyesight doesn't do much for him in the dimmed room, the shades blocking the evening light from entry, merely overflowing the sides of the window to reveal the caramel color of the clean carpet.

Fuck.

The man has to suck on his lip to keep his saliva from completely drying, parched tongue adding to his increasing drowsiness. To his surprise, the door creaks loudly enough to disregard him from the haze. He didn't know what to expect–because–despite being scared pretty shitless, he kinda wanted to stay in the room. Alone. Maybe it was the concussion or the freezing cold, but he really didn't want to go through the awkward process of meeting his capture. Not because he didn't want to die, well yes, but because he didn't believe a guy like him was in the least kidnap worthy.

Alright, that sounded shitty.

He felt, that in all his years of living he'd least expect himself to be taken—his life was too cliché, especially since everyone in his neighborhood was just the same, so it hadn't made sense why a boring college student like him was suddenly brought to a room with some sort of BDMS type of looking shit, feeling disgusted.