UNIVERSE / BTS.

80: under (knuckle) wraps / vmin

UNDER (KNUCKLE) WRAPS

WORD COUNT 2.5k
OVERVIEW rival boxers in the ring, boyfriends outside of it ( got the plot from the tweet in the media :D / idk much abt boxing so i'm using my knowledge of creed and occasional WWE watching, hope it worked )

PLAYLIST fighter / monsta x, berlin / brockhampton, outro: tear / bts, hangsang / j-hope

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THE ATMOSPHERE is adrenaline fueled, the heady iron smell of blood and the sweet-yet-bitter smell of beer mingling with the must of sawdust on the floor and the tang of chalk dust smeared on hands. the music is heavy, headache inducing in any other situation, but over the roar of the crowd, it's barely audible.

in the locker room, a blonde with a healing split lips and chalk dust inexplicably smeared across his cheek wraps his knuckles in black fabric, the skin split and bloody. he's shirtless, the pure heat of the club making sweat run down his chest and stain his forehead, hair pushed back with a red headband. he's up against a big one tonight, but not as big as his final match will be. while he waits to be called out, he practices his lunging punches on a leather bag, mouth guard already in, nylon shorts hanging low on his hips so that the stamped CK on the band of his boxers is visible.

"v, you're on in two." namjoon, the assistant manager of the club, calls from the door of the locker room, to which the boxer nods, ceasing his punches to the sand bag.

v, or kim taehyung as he's known to his close friends, is one of the best boxers in daegu, the crème de la crème, and he's especially popular at the brick by brick boxing club. it's underground and semi-illegal, but taehyung adores the rough edges and the lack of government, the rules that are easily bent. thanks to namjoon, he gets a gig there at least one a week. and he's always up against the same person for his final match.

"v, come on!"

out he goes, to the soundtrack of screams and shouts. "everybody, v!" the announcer yells, and the boxer raises his wrapped fists, with a champion grin, jumping over the ropes of the ring so he ends up inside. he winks at the girls who get up close to the stage, his personal fan club, before taking a few swigs of water that his coach hands him, keeping his corner.

"tonight's opponent, jackson wang!"

jackson's a tatted up hong kong guy who taehyung absolutely detests, so when he sees the smug fucker's face, he's instantly filled with fight fuel. he wipes the chalk dust — more on that later — from his cheeks with a damp towel, and goes to the middle of the ring, waiting for the infamous ring that commences the fight.

"v! v! v!"

the crowd chants, wild, as taehyung ducks and dodges punches. he's skinny in comparison to wang's built frame, lithe and light and easy to miss, darting around. he places a few good lunging punches on jackson's stomach, and a swift uppercut when the chinese boy tries to go for his legs. taehyung forward rolls and avoids being grabbed, jumping up and catching jackson across the jaw, his knuckles stinging.

the final blow that allows him to trap jackson to the floor is v's signature, and jackson doesn't even see it coming, just like he never does. taehyung gets on his back, punches him in the face, and when wang tries to throw him off, he takes advantage of his lightness and manages to get his legs around wang's neck, felling him like a tree.

"five, four, three, two, one! v wins!"

taehyung grins and loosens his ankles, backward rolling into a standing position. jackson seethes, but they shake hands and walk off. taehyung pauses for a few fan photos, drinking water and rubbing sweat from his face, before scurrying back to the locker room.