explicit warnings: manhandling, public sex, rough sex, hair/head pulling, oral (m rec), choking, cowgirl, spitting, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, breast play, fucking an ex.... lol, multiple orgasms, the chains stay on, hella backshots, emotional sex, creampie OOP, club sex, reader is bad, yoongi loses his gd mind, couch sex, wall sex, chair sex, umm yeah alexa play like animals thanks

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“What’s taking you so long!” 

Groaning, you concentrate on getting your lashes just right. “Told you it’d be just a minute!” 

“I know.” Hoseok pops into your hotel bathroom, deep neckline and even deeper scent of cologne almost making you jab yourself right in the socket. “But it’s been ten.” 

It’ll end up being a lot longer than that if he keeps cocking that perfect brow. Shouldn’t he know the rule of getting ready already? 

Done with your current task, you blink and inspect yourself in the wide mirror spanning the master bath. “Yeah, a minute means twenty. So I have ten to spare, right?” 

Bright teeth shine as he shakes his head. And you know it’s because you’re both slated to be super early anyway. 

Everything’s going according to schedule. All your old friends flew in yesterday, and the plan for today is to head to dinner to watch the night game with everyone. After that, you’ll walk straight to the club a few blocks down that you’ve heard to be the best in town. 

Well. Best in town for absolute eye candy. Taehyung warned that everyone that’s been to Lo Prohibito knows the dress code is simple but effective: luxurious. Unless your face card is so lethal you get in on that alone, or you happen to have celebrity status. 

And your confidence can only take you so far. You look fucking good, but you aren’t risking being turned away just because you were lax getting ready. 

So ten more minutes it is. Hobi will just have to deal with it. 

Goddamn, he could get in without a single issue, though. Honestly, he could be wearing a linen shirt and shorts with sandals and they’d mistake him for a millionaire. “I’ll be ready before you know it,” you say over your bare, perfumed shoulder. “You’ll be able to see your lover soon enough.” 

Hoseok shoots you a grin before huffing out, “Got me, huh.” 

“You’re the easiest person in the world to read.” Leaning over your makeup bag, you rummage through your brushes. “Whatever you’re thinking is always written all over your face." 

Quick laughter coats the bathroom in more light. “I can’t help it, okay! It’s always been that way.” When you focus in the mirror and pat your face, he suddenly drops two pitches in tone. “Sorry about yours.” 

Here you go again. You know exactly what he’s talking about. 

“Hobi,” you sigh. “I don’t care anymore, okay? It’s been a month.” 

“I know, but…” Expelling a heavy, sympathetic breath of his own, he leans against the double door entryway. That dulcet yet gravelly tone of his rolls across marble floors as he says exactly what you don’t want him to, “You seemed pretty happy with them.” 

You were. In fact, you were more than happy. 

But something just didn’t feel right. Sure, the days you spent with your most recent fling were perfect. You felt comfortable with them, you admired how thoughtful they were and how attentive. 

It was the nights that made you more than hesitant. 

Because no matter how many times you slept together, you never felt truly understood. What you wanted, what you needed? They would get so close to getting it right, only to never reach that level of intensity and passion you were looking for. 

So you broke it off one quiet, cherry-red sunset on the beach weeks ago. 

Only to find out that they were seeing someone else the whole time anyway. 

Fuck love. To hell with happiness. Why do all your relationships end up this way? Why do you always attract the people that seem perfect on the surface but hide so many flaws underneath? It’s starting to fucking annoy you and you may damn well swear to the single life forever. 

Though. There was one relationship that didn’t exactly end this way. 

But you’re never thinking about that one again, so no point in shuffling through those beautiful, tragic, regretful memories now. 

“And now I’m happy without them,” you finally respond to Hoseok, who tears his gaze from the white floors to see you staring in the mirror. “Probably happy without anyone else, actually.” 

What a fucking lie. 

“I mean, there’s time to find someone you...” Your friend pockets a hand while adjusting his loose top, shadows naturally accenting his abdomen. “Never mind. See you out there. Love the red.” 

You swish the silken floor-length material of your gaudy, quite revealing dress. “Thank you. This is my favorite part, look.” 

Hoseok watches as you stomp your leg out of the thigh-high slit so comically it catches him off guard, cackling before a lighthearted, “Careful with that!” 

“Says the man who’s practically naked.” 

All you get is a shameless shrug before your friend spins on this heel to leave, no doubt checking the texts on his phone. 

At least he's excited about seeing his gorgeous pull after so long. And you do not blame him one bit. The way he looks at her? She may as well be a goddess because his gaze turns almost reverent every time. 

A blurry memory consumes your mind like a haze, and you see completely different eyes with just as much fervor. They watch as you mount slow, chests slick with sweat and breathing deep from hours of—

Manicured hands grip the sink as your brush skitters onto granite counters. 

Fuck. Never again. 

Never, ever, ever again.

Pull yourself together. You’re a whole different person with a whole different future. That version of you is one you left far behind, as well as the life that came with it. 

You extend ten minutes into fifteen. 

And Hoseok’s outright whistle at your emergence lets you know the extra time was worth it. 

—

—

Dinner is loud and vibrant, with the whole restaurant locked in on the game and erupting in cheers when the home team scores. Or at least, the team that the majority of fans want to win scores. 

You aren’t completely sure, because there are jerseys of every country everywhere you look. It’s the one time you feel a sense of togetherness, with everyone giving each other friendly jabs and your group doing and saying anything to rile each other up. 

Hoseok is downright lethal with his date, the two of them showing off jawlines that can kill as they watch the nearest screen. But they’re on the other end of the long wooden table, so you have to find other people to converse with. 

Unfortunately, you find that the person sitting in front of you is a stranger, seemingly knowing someone else in the group and just happened to tag along. He quickly offered small talk when you all started ordering, which you already found a little awkward because you were trying to focus on what to get. 

Now, he keeps giving you more and more information about his achievements and endeavors, not once asking for your name. Figures.

Both the friends you’re sitting next to are no help, either. 

To your left, Jeongguk’s checking his phone for the fiftieth time this hour, scrolling through videos to avoid having to speak to anyone. 

And to your right, Taehyung cheers and stands when another goal is scored, locking elbows with the stranger behind him and drinking from his glass mug. Apparently he had been making fast friends while you were entertaining the guy that keeps staring at you. How cool. Happy for him. Can you both switch seats? 

Your wish doesn’t get granted for another hour. So that means you’re still talking to and giving polite encouragement to this gentleman. Though the term gentleman is very, very generous. It became more than obvious he just wants to fuck from the way he's been shamelessly ogling your plunging neckline. 

Mercifully, Jeongguk finally saves you, leaning in and pretending to show you a reel or tiktok or whatever the fuck he’s scrolling through. Instead, a text he typed into your message thread is all you see. 

Wanna go outside?

Going along and laughing at his fake share, you give him a grateful smile and nod. Turning to the man watching you with curiosity—and is that really jealousy?—you excuse yourself, 

“We’re gonna check out the second floor! Be right back.” 

Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.  

—

—

Outside the restaurant and not on the second floor, you can finally breathe again, watching the city come alive with its vehicle rush and streetlight hum. 

Next to you, your tattooed savior takes a long hit of his vape, and you run a hand across the thin gold chain around your neck. 

Without your permission, another memory slips through your defenses. And this one proves sharper, astonishingly clearer than the first.

Hands grab a string of gold from a nightstand, and you instantly ache because you remember what comes right after. As soon as it’s clipped onto a slim neck, you watch the necklace lower, and lower, right before you angle your mouth up to take it between your—

“Fuck.” 

Jeongguk whips his head right as your eyes snap open. “You okay? What’s wrong?” 

No. There are a thousand things wrong. You didn’t even fucking realize your vision went dark until light flooded out your unwanted nostalgia. 

Fuck, you hadn’t thought of that summer afternoon in years. Your reaction was visceral enough to spurn an oncoming headache. “Nothing,” you whoosh out. “What time is it?” 

“Almost time to head over to Lo Prohibido.” Gripping his phone, the man asks with concern, “You sure you’re good to go?” 

Head pulsing, you nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just dehydrated. Can you pick a city that won't try to burn me out next time? I'm down for traveling but it's been hell here.” 

Unconvinced and unfazed, Jeongguk cocks his head to the door. “Let’s go back in. I know your favorite person is waiting, but you gotta drink water.” 

“Don’t,” you groan. “He’s cute, but I got the biggest ick like halfway in.” 

Your amused friend giggles as he holds the door open, “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would.” 

Laughing when more cheers erupt from inside, you give his jacketed arm a playful shove as you look down the street. “I’m nice, okay? Don’t—”

Your heart. 

It booms. 

In an instant, the whole world blurs, lights and bodies making solid, serpentine lines and even sound itself rolling to a deep, dull hum.

The only one you can see. The only person you can make out with perfect clarity. 

Is the one you’ve been trying your fucking hardest to not remember. 

Staring right at you with eyes you’ll never, ever forget. 

Yoongi. 

He’s just down the way, standing amongst a group with a striped jersey, dark hair swept so perfectly your chest pangs. Even though everyone around him is animated and laughing, the look on his face makes it undeniable he’s not focused on anything else.

And with a stopped heart, neither are you.

Until your lower back is held, tugging you out of the dream as Jeongguk’s question is laden with worry, 

“Seriously, what’s going on? Do you need to go back to the hotel?” 

You jolt away from his touch, but the action isn’t warranted. For fuck’s sake, he’s a friend you’ve known just as long as you've known the spectre down the street. Why did you feel the need to escape his worrisome hand? He isn't like the guy you just met.  

If that dude had been the one to touch you, though, you would’ve fucking decked him. You are not letting him feel an inch of your skin, and that includes the majority of it you’re baring at the back. 

“No, I’m—I’m fine,” you manage to get out. “Just thought I saw.. Never mind. Water.” 

Yoongi would’ve damn near murdered that creep, too. 

Shit. 

Right before stepping back in, you turn to peer back down the sidewalk, brain concluding that what you saw was your imagination and your heart adamantly disagreeing. 

However, there’s no sign of Yoongi anywhere. That same group of people continues to chitter away outside, but he’s nowhere to be seen. 

So your logic is sound. It was just a dream. There’s no way he’d be here, and he looked way too fucking handsome to be real anyway. Maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you as an act of revenge for making it remember him this much today. 

Because you’re remembering everything. The way he knew exactly how to get under your skin. The times he proved so patient. The way he absolutely knew how to act under your sheets. 

And his. And elsewhere. Anywhere the two of you decided to make love. 

And that singular word is exactly why your flame burned its brightest before choking out. 

You were ready. 

He wasn’t. 

And you regret your decision to leave more than anything else in your entire life. 

Because you could’ve fought harder. You could’ve given him more time. But when you confessed under a blanket of stars and didn’t hear those three words reciprocated, every single celestial plummeted from the sky, plunging you headfirst into a deep, dark ocean of insecurity and bubbling self-loathing. 

The night you left, you left everything. You left your room, your apartment, the city you called home your entire life. Like a coward that couldn’t face rejection. 

Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye. 

And that’s the last damning reminder you hurl at yourself before rejoining your friends inside. 

—

—

You readily down two glasses of water. 

Inwardly laughing at the fact that the same dude straight up left to “meet up with his brochachos.” 

—

—

Lo Prohibito is decibels louder than the restaurant, and that includes the moments everyone cheered to the max.

A dazzling laser show beams from behind the raised DJ booth, and machines shoot out air to provide much needed circulation and boost the spread of confetti. 

To your delight, everyone here is just as pretty as you imagined. You’re thanking all your lucky clovers that you were accepted inside, strutting in on your heels with chin held high. 

Maybe not as high as it could go. 

But you refuse to let anything else bring you down tonight. You’re supposed to be having another great outing, spending it with your friends and enjoying the nightlife while you’re still able. 

Bright colors span across every surface as a thumping bass shakes your toes, and you wait for the rest of your group to trickle in to find a good dancing spot—and a much needed drink because you are desperate for one. 

At this point, you’ll pay any price to forget whatever the fuck you saw earlier. 

Be it a figment of your imagination, or a devilishly attractive ghost, you just need to wipe that achingly handsome face from your mind. 

There’s no way he’s here. And even if who you saw was real? It wasn’t the man you loved. 

Because there’s no way Yoongi would even look your way again. 

Not like you want him to anyway. Forget him. He gave you everything except the one thing you ultimately wanted, and you couldn’t live in his moonlight without your stars slowly burning out.

Breathe. Focus on the present. Stay in the now. 

“Come on,” he instructs, holding your fingers before grabbing your waist. “Stay with me.” 

“Sorry,” you whisper to your stumbling feet. “I just keep messing up that damn step and it’s annoying.” 

“I know.” He grips your hand, turning so that you land against his chest, comforting tone soothing your burning ear, “But you got a lot more chances to get it. We got time. Stay in the now.” 

“Okay.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

“Come on!” 

Your past whisks away with the club fog, and you follow Hoseok and the rest off the crowded floor. “Where are we going!” 

Hand on the nearest winding staircase, he turns with a smile. “Got us VIP! We’re up here.” 

“No fucking way?” How the hell did Hobi manage to do that? Wasn’t this place booked up the last time you both checked yesterday? “How!” 

Cheekily, the man simply plucks at his undone overshirt and wiggles, smirking as his date doubles over in a laugh. 

“Oh, you’re a freak,” you call out behind him with praise. “Thank you for your service.” 

Thank Jung Hoseok and those abs indeed because the VIP booth is a godsend. Sure, it’s still crowded on the second floor, but at least you don’t have to worry about standing shoulder to shoulder the whole night. You have somewhere to retreat to when you need a breather. 

Which Jeongguk is already taking the most advantage of, settling into the middle of the booth and planting elbows on the long table stretching end to end. Music blares while people shout all throughout the club, but he seems quite zeroed in on his phone. 

Maybe you can both use each other as a scapegoat again if you need to leave. He’s been enjoying himself for the most part, but you can tell he’s extremely ready to go home and the night just started. If you weren’t desperate to let loose and forget years of your life tonight, you would’ve offered to get shitty fast food with him and walk around the city instead. 

Mm. That still sounds like a backup option. 

“Who wants drinks!” Taehyung calls out from the far end of the booth, standing to wave someone down and glancing at everyone giving him their orders all at once. “Let’s just get bottles!” 

Perfect. He knows exactly what to do, so you let him drive and settle into the booth to wait for the liquid ailment to your problems. 

This club has it all, you muse as you take everything in. From endless bottles and extravagant cocktails sailing over the crowd, to sparkler shows and pops of streamers raining down from above, it’s a paradise of a getaway. 

But the outfits? To your surprise, you feel slightly out of place, even arguably overdressed wearing the most expensive thing you own. Yes, there are loads of tens walking around, even some elevens and twelves if you’re honest. But you do see quite a few people in outfits as casual as Jeongguk’s leather.

Either way, almost everyone is dripped in the most lavish jewelry and clothing, from designer to exclusive to wait someone got in wearing a jersey? 

How the hell? Despite the outfits you saw there hasn’t been anyone in here with a jersey, is he famous? It's the same one you saw on the sidewalk when you—

Fuck. That’s not him, is it? You can’t quite see his face, but that back is so… 

No. No no no. You’re staying here for awhile so that better have been another mind trick or you're taking that backup plan with Jeongguk immediately—

“Here,” Taehyung catches your attention while hastily holding out a glass. “This is what you wanted, right?” 

You take it with shaky fingers. “Yes, it’s perfect, thank you.” 

When you turn back, the red and white stripes are gone. 

And you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“You okay?”

Turning, you notice that Tae’s eyes are extremely focused on yours. You nod as you down your shot in one go. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His honey rasp slows on the way out, “You sure..?”

“Yeah.” When you push more of the stinging, sweet alcohol down, you decide to start telling him what you saw. “I just… I thought I saw…”

Taehyung is one of the only ones that never questioned why you left town. Which you’re grateful for, because you couldn’t handle all your other friends sending you text after text after call. It was fucking overwhelming, but you had one person that just allowed you to make decisions and live with them. 

“Saw who?” He asks, cutting through your vision with long fingers in a wave and calling you back to reality. 

“No one.” You don’t even wanna say his name. It carries the weight of the world. “Forget it! I’ll be good as soon as we start.”

Unconvinced but letting you have space, Tae doesn’t pry. 

“If you say so.”  

—

—

For the next hour, everything is great. You play stupid drinking games with your friends, cheer for the most random shit the house emcee yells, and you start to slowly wash the unwanted memories from your mind. 

At one point, Jeongguk stuns the section by dancing on booth cushions and swinging his jacket, revealing he only had a thin tank underneath. Many people stare slackjawed at his physique and understated choice of outfit, but you can only cackle with your friends because you all know he’s gonna go right back to his phone in seconds. He just really, really likes the song playing. 

And you’re enjoying the DJ set, too. As long as they don’t play specific songs, you can enjoy the rest of the night in absolute peace. 

Especially the one song that haunts your every waking moment. The first time you heard it, in a club somewhere along pink lemonade sand, you trudged knee deep into the crashing tide and didn’t leave until the sun dipped under the horizon. 

Because it hit too close to home. And your deluge of tears gave back infinite saltwater to the sea. 

Relax. Don’t throw any possibilities into the atmosphere, especially when your mind is fucked up tonight. Your friends are heading down to the dance floor, so go with them and forget everyone else. 

Making sure your drink is finished, you feel ice hit your lips before clinking it down, rushing to join your group at the top of the staircase. 

Only to stutter so close to the edge your heart leaps out of your chest.

It keeps falling, and falling. Because there’s no mistaking this time. That man you saw wearing the outfit that’s starting to haunt you? He’s talking animatedly to someone across the second floor, dusty pink elbow perched on the railing with a drink in his still so veiny hand. 

And your mouth turns sour at the way his shoulder is tapped by pretty nails, tongue hot and darkly spiced when Yoongi just laughs into his cup.

God. He’s here. He’s devastating without even trying.

And, as your blasphemous logic reminds you, that beautiful smile will never be yours anymore.

But that doesn’t stop you from staring. Because while on the street, you could’ve argued he was a hallucination birthed from dehydration. Right here, in this moment, you’ve sobered up in a snap and you know for a fact what you’re seeing is real.

Maybe it was better when you assumed he wasn’t. 

At least then, you didn’t have to entertain any worse outcomes than just seeing him. You didn’t have to think about how you’d feel seeing him so close to someone else.

Looks like the universe is giving you the final consequences of your escape. Yoongi has your fate in the warm, rough palm of his hand, and you know he’ll do nothing but let it fall to the rumbling floor below. Just to watch with unblinking eyes.

“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”

Turning, you start to move to the side, embarrassment heating the skin of your back that was just lightly grazed, “Shit, sorry—”

A strong arm pushes you sideways into hard metal as a duo of guys head down the stairs. You figure it’s an accident, but that doesn’t stop your face from contorting in pain and a curse to fling from your mouth. Because damn that fucking hurt. 

“Dude, watch it!” The one behind looks back at you to apologize, “Sorry about my—”

Oh… Really… 

The guy from dinner halts in his apology, and your brow lifts right before he waves you off. 

Waves you off. 

At least your intuition is always spot on. Good riddance, you were completely valid to ditch his brochacho ass earlier. 

Rolling your eyes skyward and even aiming a petulant tongue at his retreating back, you scoff before leaning on chilled metal, letting a moment pass before heading down to Taehyung and the rest of them. 

Where are they anyway? If you don’t spot them from here it’s gonna be hard to find them on the.. ground.. 

Your heart looks up before you do.  

And you catch your ex watching intently from across the way, phone sliding from his ear before he straightens to start walking. 

…Towards you? 

Fuck. 

It’s been bad enough catching glimpses of Yoongi and seeing him entertain someone else. If he gets one foot right in front of you? Everything you’ve worked so hard to build up against him and the haunting memories of your relationship will collapse into dust. You can’t bear him seeing how you haven’t changed your fucking mind. 

To your utmost pain, all roads have always led back to him. No matter how deep you relate to or click with someone, no matter how happy another person makes you, no one has come close to how Yoongi made you feel. 

Because he’s the only one that understood even the darkest parts of you. And he’s the only light in your life you ran away from. 

There’s a reason you watch every sunset. There’s a reason you stand on the beach back home and don’t move your sandswept legs until the last rays give way to the ocean line. 

It’s because of the guilt. The guilt of turning away from the warmth you held in your hands and the warmth you left behind. 

Your eyes stay tethered as your ex makes his way down the long side of the upstairs balcony, partiers smushing together and bottles roving over his head as ladies take them to VIP tables. 

Based on the heat in his eyes? Yoongi’s on the universe’s side. There’s no way he’s seeking anything else other than revenge. 

Shit, shit shit. This isn’t good for you. Literally nothing great nor healthy can come out of this if he ends up in your orbit. One word, two words, and even worse, three words from those unforgettable lips would destroy you and never let you recover. 

But your hands stay tight on the warming railing. And they won’t fucking let go. 

Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go. 

Yoongi’s almost here. All he has to do is round the corner. He's close enough for you to notice the silver chains adorning his neck.

And the last thing you think with a withering heart is how devastatingly handsome he’s become. 

With a tight breath, you pelt high heels downward one hasty step at a time. Winding, winding, spiraling like the thoughts storming your mind. The further down you go, the farther away he is. 

Your heel catches on your dress before you stumble, but you don’t look back to see if Yoongi’s even still behind you. 

Chill the fuck out and don’t fucking trip. You already had nasty falls before with scars to prove it and a sticky club floor is the worst place to sprawl onto. 

Keep going. Disappear into the crowd. Go find your friends. 

And deal with the unmoving, gaping hole in your chest later. 

—

—

It takes you awhile to find them, but soon enough, you're back to having the time of your life. The lineup of DJs is all stellar, with only a few misses here and there, even getting Jeongguk to stay on the dance floor longer than you expect.

What's even better? There's no sign of Yoongi. Surrounded by sweaty bodies and flashy grins, you don't catch a single glimpse of him in the crowd.

Good. That's good, right? You wanted this. You wanted to avoid him and run, just like you did the last time.

Your group starts to split up in the commotion of lights and confetti and streamers, but you're fine dancing on your own. With each ebb and flow of music, you lose yourself, letting your heart get swept away by stories of love and loss. Every song holds a piece you understand. Every verse carries the same message.

You aren't alone in being alone.

So embrace it. Let the hurt come later. Smiling wide, you await the next song up, arms thrown in the air with everyone in beautiful togetherness around you.

Then it starts.

The one song you knew you'd hear at some point but sure as fuck didn’t want to.

While people around roar at the familiar opening, you feel like disappearing entirely. Where’s the nearest coastline? You need a rising tide. 

As the melancholic notes buzz up your chest, you slowly, quietly, lower both arms to your sides. Around you, the floor moves in sensuous circles and dips, and you envy everyone for not feeling how you feel. This glowing, searing pain setting your chest ablaze until it’s nothing but a pile of cinders, only to be washed away with the waves crashing against your knees.

With each scathing line, your heart cries, remembering exactly why it hit too deep. All those lessons you took that started on a whim. All those sunny afternoons practicing and stumbling about your living room. All those times you were held close and knew there’d be no one else.

Your heart isn't strong enough to stay in the now. It doesn’t want to. It will always remain in the past, on a rooftop gazing into a sea of stars and hoping for a different outcome. 

Night, after night, after night. 

Suddenly, you’re back in the past, too.

Because a hand, so sure and so steady, settles onto your hip from behind, and your eyes burn when another slides along your bare shoulder. Heat from a body you can sense from anywhere in the fucking universe warms the skin at your back, and you shake as lips touch the shell of your ear to whisper three words that shatter what’s left of your soul, 

“One last time.” 

You aren't in the past. You're here. And so is he.

Breath whooshing out in a hitch, your throat is in absolute flames as your eyes slide shut. Then you nod, because you can’t think of doing anything else, and you allow him to lead.

And he feels so perfect against you it hurts. 

You feel how strong he’s gotten, how sturdy and lean. And yet, you also feel the same soft give you used to feel all those years ago. You know how pliant he could become under your mercy, just like all those times he gave you complete control. If you faced him, you could run your hands along that stomach you’ve kissed every inch of a thousand times over. 

But you’re too much of a pathetic coward to turn around. 

When you back into him, his quick hiss into that groan you miss so fucking much flips every warning light in your body. But you can’t help it. You know this dance, this connection, this reunion will be the last you will ever have. 

He never loved you. You never said goodbye. 

Everything that’s left unsaid swirls around you as you move in perfect sync, both your hips moving as one and your hand snaking up and back to grip his neck fuck he feels just like home. 

Yoongi… Still feels like home. 

A single, hot tear leaks from your eye as you sway, burning a path down your cheek as your other hand closes tight around fingers holding your side. When he grips you even tighter, another tear betrays you, and you feel his lips so close to your neck you expect him to kiss there if he wanted to. 

But he doesn’t. 

Of course he doesn’t. 

So you take what you’re given. A dance. Just one. One last unforgettable dance before your life changes all over again. 

Knowing this song by heart, you know it’s approaching the end. The bittersweet last chorus clues you in, and you tense around his neck just a little tighter, hoping Yoongi didn’t catch the need in your fingers for this moment to never end. 

Mother Earth can swallow you whole as soon as the last word is sung. You give her your express permission. 

Because you feel so hopelessly in love all over again, and you can’t bear your affection to be unreciprocated a second time. 

Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes. 

The song dies. 

And immediately after, as if your world hasn’t just been upheaved and tossed to the wayside, the next number booms. Everyone on the dance floor cheers again when it’s extremely familiar and a faster tempo. Even more people fill the floor because they need to feel this one in their bones. 

And you need nothing else but to leave. 

Get out. Go. Yoongi said so, right? One last time. It’s over. This tension between you needed an outlet and that song was the one out you both could use to set it free. 

And it’s done. So you start your brisk walk away.

Only for your wrist to be held and your heart to fall out of your ribcage. 

Fuck.

When you turn, you forget you’re tear-streaked and full of painful regrets. 

And the look on Yoongi’s face heats your soul all the way through. 

Because his eyes are unwavering, brows cut deep and mouth completely shut. Over his forehead, tendrils of mussed bangs sweep slow, and his chest rises and falls with every hard, wordless breath he takes. 

And you finally get the courage to whisper his name. 

Without a word, he slowly pulls you in, not stopping until your hands softly push into his strong chest and your face is inches from his. All heavy bass and bright beats of music fall away. All lights shift until you can only see him. 

Time. All that time apart vanishes when you finally feel this close again, his steady expression watching you with an emotion you can’t place but feel ripping at your walls to destroy them. 

What is happening? What’s he doing? 

Does he know he has the power to hurt you in ten million different ways?

Fingers rise to wipe the sadness from your face, only inviting more to pour from your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whisper again, breaking the dam you’ve been building block by block this whole time, just like you were afraid of. And you can’t fucking stop. “Yoongi…”

Then, when his eyes slide shut, you think he’ll let you go. Why can you only say his name? Why the fuck are you ruining this singular moment that you’ve only dreamed of having wait wait why is he resting his forehead against yours fuck wait—

“You know how long,” he breathes out, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that again.” 

Have mercy.

Your soul finally snaps in two. 

You can only say it once more, broken and chipped, before Yoongi grips your jaw and kisses you like it’s his last minute on earth. 

And you push back with a ferocity that’s been dormant for years, a magnificent flame never awakened by anyone else. Nothing else. Just him. Only him. 

Rivers stream from your eyes as his arms circle you, hands gripping the skin of your back as your nails rake down his. Around you, people dance and bump into your bodies, but neither of you seem to fucking care. No one else exists. The only music you hear is every deep breath Yoongi takes and it’s your favorite, favorite, favorite.

You shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no possible way this doesn’t leave you without a broken heart and a shell of whatever intact spirit you have left. 

But goddamn if you don’t stay in the now more than ever. 

“I don’t give a shit,” you tumble into his mouth, waiting until he pulls away enough for you to spill every forbidden thought you’ve harbored in your beating chest. “I don’t care if you never loved me. I don’t care if you moved on. I just—just tonight, Yoongi, I need you—”

Your plea is engulfed by another soulshaking push of his lips, and you think that’s the end of it until he tugs away from you before swerving his head around the floor. 

“Come here,” he orders, gripping your hand and reminding you just how perfect his fingers slot with yours. 

Time. You’re getting more time? Your tears and the burning in your chest don’t quell as you’re led through the crowd. When you get strange or pitied looks, you don’t care. All these perfectly dressed people can fuck off. 

When they stare at the man guiding you, that’s what gets your stomach flaring. They can have him. Just after you get one last time to carry you through the rest of your loveless life. 

Yoongi suddenly turns to look at you trailing behind, and he waits to bring you in front of his side, now leading you both together through the rest of the packed floor. 

Ah. This is the man you remember. 

And that just makes everything hurt even more. 

Soon, you’re led off the dance floor and through a series of turns, Yoongi heading up a long back staircase before rounding into a hallway of doors before he checks each one. 

What are these? Karaoke rooms? Party rooms? You don’t know, but the ache in your body hunches you over, and it takes everything to not crumble before he finally stops and yanks open a door. 

“Yoongi, what are you—?”

A dim, neon-lit room is what you come to, and you hear a faint click while noticing the long window looking out into the club below.  Different lounge chairs and couches fill the space, and you can see just enough out the glass to know you’re even high above the VIP tables. The room feels exclusive but you don’t get to observe anything else as you’re being pushed into the nearest wall to be liplocked again. 

Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this. 

Just like you have. 

As your dress is gripped tight, your thoughts all blur together in a lustful slurry. How many has he taken to bed after you? Do you remember your own count? Has anyone else made him feel like you do? With a searing green flare, you remember that no one has come close to him. How awfully one-sided would that be if he found someone that completed him.

A veiny hand grips the side of your neck before sliding to your head. “Fuck,” Yoongi grits out. “I… I can’t.” 

...What? 

No. No no no. 

Your heart begins its fast descent. Because if Yoongi doesn’t want this, you have to respect that. As much as you will scream into the night, you’re not gonna stop him if he gets up and leaves. 

Because you did. So why shouldn’t he get that same chance to destroy you? 

“I get it,” you hitch out, holding his strong wrist with shaky fingers. It’s only fair. This felt too good to be true anyway. “I know.” 

“It’s not that.” Yoongi slides his free hand on the wall, holding it at your shoulder. “I just… Fuck, if we do this, I can’t promise I’ll hold back.” 

Oh. Fuck that. 

You tug the warm silver around his neck. “Then don’t,” you urge to his grunt. “If this is all we get? I don’t fucking care.” 

“Even if I t—”

“Do it, Yoongi,” you plead with a gritted cry. “You can do anything to me, whatever it is just do it.” 

“Fuck.” 

All doubt flees from his eyes as your back gets smushed into the wall, your lips puffed and parting when he places hot, open mouthed kisses down your column. 

Hands keep their quest in gathering up your dress. And you make quick work of his belt before pulling, tugging, yanking it out of its holster. 

“The fuck,” he shoots out. “Who the fuck taught you that?”

Your eyes flicker to his as you grip the hem of his jeans. “You really wanna know?”

“No.” He switches up on a dime. “Don’t tell me.”

Your lips collide again before he rips his mouth down to attack your chest, nipping at a spot that has you flinching and hand sliding between your legs. When he runs a finger along your underwear, his eyes practically burn out as he growls, “You’re this fucking wet already?”

“I told you,” you gasp out. “I need you.” 

Your hand is yanked to the front of his jeans, and shock and emotion completely cover the expanse of your face feeling how unbelievably hard he is.

Unfazed, Yoongi continues kissing up to your shoulder, leaving hot saliva trails all over your skin and bunching your silk in his hands. “Seeing you in this? Lost my shit.”

“You're lying.”

“All fuckin' night."

“Liar.”

Liar, liar. A bold faced lie. You saw him talking to other people. You saw his anger piercing across the club. But you watch as his look levels, and your cheeks sizzle at the way he shifts his jaw, 

“I’d never lie to you.” 

Shit. Your heart bats eyelashes before you shove it out of frame. 

The organ in your chest is a walking liability, especially when it’s connected to your mouth. So there are many, many things you might reveal tonight in the throes of agony and passion. Things you will regret come morning waking to an empty bed. 

The best way to not say anything that could potentially do more harm than good? Keep your lips occupied. And that’s exactly what you intend to do. 

“We’ll see,” you grit out, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. When Yoongi lets you twist to shove him back against the wall, his eyes flare in dark need when he hisses, 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” 

To show him how you’ve grown in the years you separated, to show him what he could’ve fucking had. 

To show him that you aren’t taking a single bit of this last, serendipitous night for granted. 

Kneeling slow, you slide your hands along his clothed chest, kissing his chains exactly how you used to and smearing lipstick all the way down his jersey.

“Fuck…”

Balancing on your heels, you wince at the tight bend in your knees, but you aren’t going down completely because your kneecaps aren’t what they used to be. Fuck that. You can do plenty in a low squat anyway, and he’s seen you look a hell of a lot more awkward many times. “Shit,” you still whisper. “You’re lucky I can’t wait to swallow you.”

A curse flings out of his mouth. “Get up, babe.”

Heart ringing at the name, you reject his order with a harsh, “Shut up.” 

You want this, and you know for a fact he does, too. When Yoongi tries to bend, you pull down his underwear, springing his cock free and almost salivating at the sight. 

Just like you remember. Everything about him is just how you remember, and yet his body has only gotten stronger and filled out in all the perfect places. Yoongi’s a man now. A real, grown man. 

If you both just met tonight, you know he would’ve asked for your name before anything else.

Cut the shit. You are not getting into that now, not when you have him with hands trembling against a wall before you take him in your palm. As soon as you touch, Yoongi expels a deep groan, kicking his head back and gripping the wall with a large hand.

What’s going on? You haven’t even done anything yet. Why does your chest constrict at how sensitive he is? This isn’t the time to relax, but you really can’t help but soften at his complete and utter unravelling. 

It’s almost as if nothing’s changed. 

Yoongi lowers his gaze, and you lock glistening eyes before you take him in your mouth, slow on the tip and swirling to get it coated and prepped just right. Your hand expertly glides along his solid, slick length, squeezing at the spot you know makes him fold. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasps out, hand hesitating to palm your head before balling in a fist against plaster. “Shit, babe..”

Again? Does he even realize what he’s saying? Is he trying to hurt you because if that’s his goal it’s fucking working. 

Anger, regret, painful nostalgia drives you forward, sinking his velvety ridges inside your throat and proving to him how much better you’ve gotten. With every plunge, you hollow your cheeks, already feeling the telltale searing at your eyes and spiraling up your throat. His endless stream of sounds and praise tumble down your skin, and you keep sucking mercilessly even when his hips buck and his eyes squeeze tight.

Releasing with a loud pop, you feel a huge strain on your soaked legs as you adjust, tilting your drenched chin to bury your face in his sack to lick and take it in.

“Baby..”

At this new, old nickname, you grip his cock tighter, swallowing him whole again just to hide your real tears behind the ones streaming from taking him in so deep. 

More. You give more, and more, and more. Time will take away everything else so what you can give is all you got.

Hands grip your head in desperation, and you let Yoongi push you onto his length until your airway is closed tight, nose and cheeks flush against the skin of his thighs. His scent is heady and just like you remember, if only slightly different due to the new musky cologne he’s probably sticking with nowadays. Not like you can focus on it too long because your airway is screaming to be freed again. 

Tears leak over your lashes as want slicks your cunt, and you hear syllables that could be words before you finally give his legs a telltale tap.

Oxygen floods your lungs as more tears stream from your eyes, lips sopping wet and saliva leaving your chin in strings. Gulping, you go right back to it, taking him in again and pumping his slick ridges quick.

“Get up,” he commands with a rasp so deep it rumbles your chest. “Get the fuck up.” 

You’re pulled upward so fast your legs cry at the bends, and you’re spun so quick the wall hits your shoulderblade and you cry out into a furious mouth. 

Pleasure and pain intertwine as you match his intensity, raking at his shoulders and clawing into his hair. With each kiss, he reaches deeper into your throat, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue with the way he claims it in waves.

For a moment, there’s no one else in the world. You aren’t in a dimly lit lounge in a club away from home. You’re right here in his bedroom, getting slung and dragged along his wall and knocking every one of his plaques and posters off-kilter. 

“Yoongi, I—”

“I know.”

Without further prompt, Yoongi wrenches at your dress to shove it up to your hip, burning a path along your leg with expert fingers. As you hook itover his smooth forearm, your lips part when his other hand slides between your thighs. 

You know your underwear is soaked all the way through. 

And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”

“I can’t take it anymore,” you gasp out. “Just—”

“Are you still on the—”

“Yes.”

Shifting the sodden material to the side, Yoongi wastes no time, angling himself to rub over your folds and moaning in tandem with you because holy fuck this already feels so—

“This fucking pussy,” Yoongi grits out, sliding in perfectly and so smoothly it’s like neither of you ever left each other's sides. Your high moan cuts into the cherry ceiling when he sounds like he’s just struck gold, “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Yoongi, please—”

He’s talking absolute nonsense. Gonna be? How is that possible when you won’t see him again? 

All questions vaporize when Yoongi’s hips snap up, launching you up the wall again, and again, and again. Pops of need and lust zoom straight to your head, sparkling out of your eyes when you feel his lips smothering your neck. 

You’re in heaven. You’re in hell. It feels so good it hurts. Caught in a flurry of need and anguish, your nails rake down his shoulders before scratching at his arms, shivering at his outright growl, 

“Don’t do that.”

“Oh, I—”

“Do that shit again and I’ll come.” 

Shit. You don’t understand how he could be so shameless. You’re trying your hardest to keep it together and here he is saying whatever the fuck he wants? If you let your mouth just as loose as he has there’s no telling what you’d be shouting out. 

But you settle for an apology for now, just in case you actually hurt him, “Sorry.. My nails are super long right now.”

“I noticed.” Another thrust launches you into the sky. “They look good but they hurt like hell.”

“Oh.. Sorry again.” A moan escapes when he shoves into you, mind hazy because he’s still placating you. 

“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” Devilish, he breaks into a slow smirk you haven’t seen in ages, and your ribcage folds inward and inward. “I’m just not fucking done with you yet.” 

Oh. He doesn’t want this to end, either. 

Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain. 

You keep yourself upright as long as you can, arms slung around his neck as you both move together, dip and lean together, breathe so hard it scorches your chest together. Every muscle in your planted leg burns, but it’s nothing compared to the stare you have connected to his eyes. With each deep thrust, his brows furrow and his teeth peek from his lips, and every groan you hear goes right into a chest for safe keeping. Right next to all the other memories you want to lock away.

Yoongi’s pace starts to quicken the more your mewls encourage him. What was sensuous is now unbearable and, as your dress threatens to shift, you know your breasts will be on full display soon, and Yoongi bites his lip with a grunt with his next hard thrusts.

Soon enough, you feel a chill on your nipples as they’re freed, moaning to the ceiling when Yoongi immediately heats one whole with his tongue. “Baby!”

Goddamn it. You weren’t supposed to address him like that, too. But maybe it’s better than saying his name because every time you do there’s a charge sparking the air. 

So you decide to switch, moaning the same word over and over as he licks and sucks, dragging his teeth along your exposed chest and littering it with heavy proof of his lips. Just like the lipstick on his jersey, you know he’s claimed his own marks on your skin. 

And neither of you will be able to hide them when you part.

Expelled tension flits about in light streaks as you move with him, slick with exertion and tight with muscles working in double time. You both know this is the last time and you’re acting like it. And you send a prayer to the heavens to let time stop just to keep holding him in your arms. 

Suddenly, your heel slips, and you yelp before strong arms keep you upright. “Shit, sorry.”

“I got you.”

Summer sunsets smother your vision as you let him guide you from the wall, gently placing your leg down and leading you to a sofa. Everything simmers to a lull, and you have a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing, racing heartbeat. 

When Yoongi sits on vibrant cushions, you admire the way his biceps fill those sleeves right as he tugs his jersey clean off. And you have to fight to not teeter over, continuing to stare in awe at him, so perfectly filled in some placed and chiseled in others that you start to wonder how you even left in the first place.

Of course you know why you did. So why bring it up now when you’re right here? Why agonize over the past when you’re standing right between his legs?  

“Baby.” 

You flick your gaze back up to his. 

“Stay with me.”

Tears zing up your eyes as you nod, heart plugging your throat as you mount his toned thighs. When you feebly place hands on his searing shoulders, you hate the way your words shake on the way out, “Stay in the now. I know.”

Yoongi’s eyes shine with a light in them you weren’t sure was there before. But you can’t wait long enough for confirmation because your heart is keeling over with ache. 

He remembers. He remembers. Does that mean he’s thought about you, too? 

Focus on something else. No time to think about the past, nor the future. No time to notice that the way Yoongi looks at you now is so heartbreakingly similar to how he worshipped you before. Back when things were perfectly imperfect. Back when you were sure he loved you before he proved to you that he didn’t. 

“Still so beautiful.”

Liquid fire fills your eyes as your breath hitches, guiding his length to your entrance before sinking onto him with no issue. When you both groan, you let your glittery vision watch the ceiling instead of him when you admit, 

“You look so fucking good in red.”

There’s no response as you breathe, angling yourself to feel him deep and moving in a slow push and pull along his legs. Your thin chain tightens as your neck strains above Yoongi’s head, and you wish you had the guts to look down at the ones around his neck. They’re already deadly resting on his clothes, but rocking against the flush of his skin is how you love them the most.

Still, you can’t bear to look. You know you’ll lose yourself in those eyes if you dare stare long enough. Because what you saw earlier looked too close to longing, which would be impossible because that only exists in yours. 

“And,” you whoosh out in tired breaths, gripping your fingers on him a little tighter, “Looks like you.. finally hit the gym.. like I kept fucking saying.” 

A puff of warm laughter hits your chest before sweaty hands grip your waist. “Always said I would.”

“But you never did,” you huff out, grinding on him harder and melting at his little sounds. One thing you will keep giving this man credit for: he isn’t ashamed to be just as vocal as you are. The more people you ended up meeting? The rarer and rarer you realized that bedroom quality was. 

“I did eventually,” he grits, holding you in place and surging into you so hard you yelp to the stars. “Didn’t I.”

“Fuck you,” you bite, moaning when your argument dies the moment his tongue swirls around a nipple again. What’s left comes out a garbled mess of a groan, and you hate, hate, hate the dark chuckle against your breast. Partly because he’s a constant problem, and partly because you yearn to see his smile again. 

“What else is new about you,” Yoongi suddenly rasps, hands lowering to rest on your hips as you ride him. “Aside from clearly getting better at this.”

Lost in lust and surprised at his question, you finally peer down to see him looking up already. “No thanks to you.”

And your world stills as he doesn’t respond right away, any hint of sunlight fading from his features. “No thanks to me,” he slowly agrees. 

Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that. 

Slowly slipping hands from his body, you rise from his length and mourn the disconnect before standing. When Yoongi only regards you with eyes on fire, you slowly turn and rest on his thighs. 

He’s not gonna like this. But he asked.

You turn your head before slowly sliding one side of your dress completely down, revealing a rough scar on your back a little lower than your shoulder.

And your soul immediately clenches when Yoongi heats your back with his body heat. “The fuck?” His fingers feel so light, so protective as they caress your mark. It’s confusing, and you abhor it as much as you need it. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you whisper. “Pretty hard.” 

Details of how and when it happened don’t matter. But he wanted to know what was new, and the scar on your heart isn’t exactly readily available to show. 

“I did, too.” 

What? At his voice over your shoulder, you strain your neck to see him. “When?”

Why is he kissing your scar? Exes don’t do that. Exes don’t do anything you’re doing right now. 

“Before you left.”

Now you feel worse. When the hell did that happen? Why didn’t you know about it? “Sorry,” you breathe out with sorrow. “I didn’t know.”

Another slow, calm graze of his mouth tightens your throat. Because he’s since moved across your back, lips now touching where your shoulderblade hit the wall. 

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “I never told you.” 

He never told you many things.

Stepping into dangerous territory is making you regret showing him your worst moment. So you shift your ass to push over his cock, feeling it throb against you when you wisp out the worst reminder, “We don’t have much time.”

“Mm.”

When you feel his hands shift your dress, you lift up and allow you both to effortlessly situate you back where you wanna be. Your back hits his chest as he guides himself up into your folds, and your head kicks back to lie across his shoulder like the red silk flowing over your thigh. 

“Just like you said,” you start to whisper, eyes already welling with oncoming regret, “One last time.” Every syllable just as melancholic as the notes of your favorite song. 

When Yoongi starts, your heart weeps at the pace. Because it reminds you of better times, sensuous and intentional and convincing you to confess all over again. It takes everything not to speak, your moans escaping in weak puffs and your hips swelling in a calm wave. 

This is too much. This is way too fucking much and you finally break when his name leaves you like a prayer. “Harder,” you beg. “Please, please go—”

You’re cut off as soon as his hips jolt up, flinging you to life before going at a menacing pace. Yes yes yes this is the one you need. The one you crave. The one that leaves no room for feelings and decisions. Your dress threatens to slip off your sides with each pound, slowly rolling and accentuating your chest in seconds. “Shit, holy shit!”

“Fuck, you’re so tight—”

“So fucking big—”

As if knowing exactly what you want, your arms are held back, locked into place as you’re under the absolute mercy of his dick slamming up into you over and over, skin slapping obscene and thighs burning from the stretch across his lap. 

Yoongi knows you better than anyone else. A frustrated growl tears from your lips as you arch so far back you connect clouds, and a strong forearm wraps across your stomach to pin you so fucking close you may as well mold right into him. Passion streaks down your limbs as sweat beads along your skin, the heady scent of sex and forbidden fruit swirling into your nose. 

More. More more more he’s giving you everything. As your arms are freed, you can only grip the other forearm slinging over your upper chest, nails digging into creamy skin and leaving angry, cherry red lines.

Words, praise, everything under the sun is being spewed onto your slick shoulders as you mash your teeth and eyes tight. You even hear a word you’ve been wanting to hear for years, but that can’t possibly be true because there’s no way Yoongi would ever—

A hand closes around your throat, and your eyes fly back into your head.

You’re so close. Fucking hell, your thighs are singing and your throat is burning and your abdomen strains from the arch but you need this release. You need this tidal wave to consume you. If only to forget for a split second that Yoongi isn’t—

“—yours.”

What?

Another fierce round of thrusts almost topples the two of you over, and white hot pressure paints the edges of your eyes as you strain for breath. You’re so close. So fucking close it’s right within reach.

But it all vanishes in a snap as Yoongi stops, and you cry with a teary rasp, “No, please, baby—”

“Not yet.” He hauls you up, making you sit straight and facing away yet again. “You know what to do.” 

Fuck. There’s no way he remembers this, too. You flinch at the slap to your breast before shakily getting up, legs wobbly but positioning yourself on his cock perfectly before sliding down. 

Both heels planted on the ground, you brace his strong knees and work his slick length, eyes rolling at his breathy groans and curses leaving his mouth in spurts. 

You know exactly what to do to make him lose his goddamn mind. So you do it all, swirling and swerving your hips while flicking off your silk, showing him the best view of your ass as it bounces. Your legs tire, but you don’t, and you use the music leaking into the room to set your sickening, aggravating pace. 

“Fuck, baby..”

“You asked for it.”

“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.” 

You can tell he’s on the brink of madness, and you can only picture the way his head thumps back on the couch, mouth torn by his teeth and brows furrowed to hell. His muscles are probably contracting in waves, including the ones in his perfect, bulging arms. 

“You shouldn’t,” you hum. “Since this is all you get.” 

Without a word, hands reach out and tug you backward, and you’re up on your feet and tripping before your hands slap the firm cushions of the next chair over. “What the fu—”

To your absolute delight, Yoongi plants a foot on the chair before gripping the pliant dip of your hips, pushing tears from your eyes with each quick, deep thrust he rams forward. Stars dance along your vision as drool leaks endlessly from your mouth. “Baby—! Fuck!”

“This pussy’s so.. Fuck.” You’re shoved so far down that your moist cheek smushes into firm cushion. “Say my name.”

“Babe—”

“As much as I wanna hear that every fucking day”—Yoongi shoves into you again and keeps his cock thrumming inside your cunt—“Right now, I’m gonna hear my name. So say it.”

“Yoongi—”

His deep, gritted command makes you snap, “Louder.”

“Yoongi—!” 

You feel it. You’re at the brink again. With every snap of his skin pounding against yours, you’re inching closer and closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the fall that will end you. “Baby, I’m gonna—”

Firm arms haul you upward and you’re both travelling the room again, legs skittering until you hit back first into the nearest wall fuck that took your breath out.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he slams a hand against the plaster to steady, face burrowed in your neck and hair brushing harsh against your ear as he buries inside of you again. Fire spews from his mouth as you feel his cock squeeze up into your cunt, and his arm tenses tight behind your knee as he commands,

“Come for me, love.”

You don’t know what the fuck you just heard but you know he didn’t just say—

“I said come.”

Instinct. Pure, animalistic instinct surges your orgasm forward in a high crest, breaking onto shore in hot, white waves as you tremble around him. Your cunt squeezes and tugs, your poor leg threatening collapse as Yoongi roughly hums so deep against your chest. Pleasure, starlight, the warmth of an afternoon faraway heats your body just right, and one crash leads into the next so effortlessly that tears zip down your cheeks.

Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat. 

And it’s enough to send you right over the edge again.

How the fuck is this possible how the hell can someone break you with your own name how can Yoongi have this much of a hold on you when it’s been literal years? It doesn’t make any sense and the cries into his neck as he holds you close are akin to sobs. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re your way of mourning everything that could’ve been. Everything that will never be. 

But at least you were able to have him, shaking in your grasp and pulsing in your core. One more night. One last time. 

“Fuck it, come here.” 

Your sobs are yanked from the wall again, and you don’t know up from left as you're thrown onto a sofa, back curling as Yoongi tugs your head upright. Your tears slide down your neck, wetting your necklace as he breathes out, 

“Again.” 

Fuck! Your cunt tightens around him as you gasp out, “I can’t… I can’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Yoongi growls, clutching your chin and flinging hot spit onto your face that catapults you into another level of need you’ve never been to holy fuck. Smothering it against your cheeks, he taps you once and it brings destruction. “I said again.” 

All your limbs lock at the bends as you throw your head in a strained cry, a release that overpowers all the others flushing through your veins and igniting beams out of your sweaty chest. Wave upon wave crashes into your soul and your ears ring so loud you can barely hear or see Yoongi watching from above. You can’t. You’re too caught in chaos. You can’t see the way he looks at you. 

“Come for me, Yoongi,” you suddenly plead, “Let go.”

“Let me pull—”

“Do it now,” you hitch out. “Come inside.”

A prolonged moan leaves his mouth as he launches into a pace that has you screaming, teeth gritted to hell and fingers gripping you so hard you know they’re going to bruise. But who cares when your skin will match your heart? Who gives a fuck about anything else anymore?

Beautiful weight crushes your chest as Yoongi’s body turns erratic, jolting and seizing up. And you know he’s racing to his own cliff to dive and you’re gonna be right there to catch him. Slinging your arms around his drenched back and fisting the wet base of his hair, you’re already ready and waiting with harsh harsh breaths, because you're about to break him.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to his ear, ravaging his slick neck with your lips and scraping teeth over his ear just how he likes, hearts beating as one when you stop just to connect your forehead to his. With a singular, throaty gasp, you plead,

“One last time.”

Yoongi’s sudden release sends a pulse through the air, and your core beats and beats with each pump of essence he spews inside. Heaven and earth collide with stars as you hold tight, and your thighs shake as he finishes filling you with the longest orgasm you have ever, ever seen him endure. 

The float down doesn’t come quick, both of you softly suspended in time and air. Steam radiates from your skin and flows from your mouths with each breath, and beads of sweat slip down his jewelry as he stares with a deep vastness in his eyes. 

Why is he so quiet? 

Why are you so quiet? 

Why do you feel like crying again? 

With one more shaken breath, Yoongi swallows, chest heaving right after as he struggles to gather himself. His shoulders are so broad when he moves under your hands, closing his eyes as soon as your brows touch,

“I know it’s over.”

Your heart flares.

“But I need you to know.”

Stars light the night sky.

“I love you. And I always will.”

A sob breaks your silence, hand flying to cup your mouth before you hunch forward into his trembling chest. Days and days of pent up anger and sadness spill out all at once, and you weep into his chest because you can’t bear to let go. 

“I know you’ve moved on,” Yoongi continues with a shake to his words, not pausing at the way you choke and weep. “But I’ve regretted never saying it back then. And I’m not gonna get another chance.”

What the fuck is happening. What does he mean? What does he mean? Your body can’t stop as it locks and locks, sobs wracking your chest because this is fucked up and confusing and everything you’ve been wanting for the longest time. This is all you wanted. And you only get it at the very end. 

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” you shake out. When you lift your trembling head, his lips are already so achingly close to yours and his hand moves to steady your neck. “I left and never came back.”

When his eyes are the only ones that speak, you start to spill everything out, words tumbling into one another and pinging to the floors around your tired feet,

“I tried so hard to forget you. Tried so, so hard to stop loving you. Every day, I’d wake up wanting nothing to do with you, only to see you in my dreams and remember how it felt to—to—” 

Bright red flares across Yoongi’s eyes as he keeps listening, jaw pulsing and brows so tense. 

“At first, I was so angry. At you, at myself, at the world for letting me love you when you never loved me back. But now, I know what I did was wrong. And I regret it every day that I live.” 

When your face contorts in sorrow, Yoongi brings a hand up to wipe your cheek, thumb brushing away your tears. “I did, babe.” Your breath stops and your eyes splay wide. “Just never had the guts to say it first.” 

First. 

Yoongi loved you all the way back then? Before that starry night that’s kept your heart captive for so long? It pulses against your chest, ramming and ramming into your ribcage to get to his. 

Only one question barrels through your mind. “…Why?”

Yoongi looks from one eye to the next. “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”

Everything clicks into place and you suddenly feel so, so upset. You are going to fight this man to the moon and back. Or, better yet, you’re gonna fight him to the moon and leave him there. “You think I thought that way?”

“No.” He sighs, chains shaking over your chest. “And I replay that night over, and over. Knowing that I’d do anything to go back and tell you how I felt.” 

Yoongi never lived in the past. He was always adamant about staying in the present. So knowing he’d been stuck there right next to you makes your chest collapse before slipping down into the deep sea. 

“When I saw you today? Every day I told myself I’d get over you didn’t matter. Every reason I told myself I couldn’t be with you was bullshit.” 

Your throat constricts again.

“But when you kept running.. I knew you were done with me for good.” Yoongi’s hand falls. “And there was nothing I could do to change your mind.”

“Yoongi…”

All this time, you both had your own reasons for avoiding each other. Everything you fed into your logical side was just a ploy to project your feelings, and it turns out Yoongi did the exact same thing. 

He said he wouldn’t be able to hold back if you did this tonight. And now, you’re blessed to know exactly what he meant. 

So you also let everything go. 

“I was never done with you,” you choke out, seeing a swath of emotion brush across his face. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I will be even if you walk out of here without me.”

Musk and heaven consumes you in a hug, and you cry into a bare shoulder as you hear Yoongi vow something so full of longing and conviction you hold him tighter, 

“I’m not going anywhere else without you.” 

Music continues to pulse outside, lasers continue to dance around the room. But you see nothing but the light in your lover's eyes. 

And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise. 

—

—

When you both finally part, it’s only to let him get dressed and for you to use the nearest restroom. In the quiet wake of your emotional storm, Yoongi walks you to the window spanning the far wall of the lounge, and you both watch the club floors move and sway from above. And it’s only now that you feel shy. It’s only now that you feel nervous seeing everyone below. 

But a thought occurs to you that dashes all others away, 

“How did you know to come up here?” 

Yoongi gives you a look that you raise a brow at. “I…” He sighs. “Let’s just say I know my way around this place.”

Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”

“Not for the reasons you think.”

Your brows are fully bent now. “…Huh?”

“I own the building.” Hands busy, he adjusts his jersey as if he didn’t drop the biggest shock of the century on your toes. “And a couple others in the city.”

What. 

Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone. 

Yoongi lives in this city? He owns what? This is a little too much to take in, but you have time. And you’re gonna hound him for every single detail of his life that you’ve missed. 

You have time. Your prayer had been answered tenfold. And you send endless gratitude to the sky. 

But suddenly, a second realization pierces your mind and you lightly shove him. When Yoongi looks at you in shock, you yell out, “You asked what’s new and I showed you a scar! Now you tell me you own a fucking building?” 

Your lover laughs, and the sun rises even higher over your horizon. Ducking your next swipe, he’s already back to irritating you again as he clarifies, “I said more than one—”

“Oh, fuck you!” 

He rushes forward and gathers you in his arms, not caring if anyone sees your embrace in the window. “You wanna go again?” 

Your face heats as your eyes roll heavenward, exactly where you feel like you are in this moment. “I have a pretty big hotel room,” you divulge. “And no one to share that bedroom with unless someone else catches my eye tonight, so…”

Yoongi’s eyes crease as he kisses your forehead. “Fuck that. Take me home.” 

Your giggles into his chin bubble out in pink, poppable spheres. 

As magnificent and dreamlike all of this has been, you're starting to find logic again. Because more than one question badgers into your mind.

How long have you been gone? Have your friends not even checked on you? Did they try? Did they leave do they even still have the... table…

Wait.

Everything else clicks into place. 

The random city everyone flew to that Jeongguk picked. The infamous club and dress code you heard about from Taehyung. The table that Hoseok bragged about getting…

“...You're the one that got us VIP.” 

That stupid, annoying, ridiculous grin. Of course this is how you'd be reminded of how much you love to hate it.

“Now come dance with me,” he says with teeth still flashing wide. “Let’s see if you ever got that step.” 

Eyes sparkling, you let him lead you down and onto the dance floor, moving through until you’re suddenly next to your friends that shout and holler at your arrival together. 

“All of you are crazy!” You yell out, tears in your smile as they burst into laughter. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”

Yoongi grabs hold of you before chuckling into your ear. “I told them not to.” 

“Why?”

“Didn’t know if you were really done.” He grips you tight, face falling into seriousness. “But I heard you broke up with someone a month ago. This was my only chance and I took it.” 

Holy fucking shit.

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek with purpose. “I love you.”

Yoongi’s cheeks rise high, dimples prominent and eyes carrying the light of the universe. Lips close, he responds how he wanted to the first time.

And you seal your devotion with a kiss full of starlight. 

“Ugh, here we go.”

“Already at it again, huh.”

"Figures. Didn't you see his jersey?"

“Get another room—!”

Suddenly, the same song that used to haunt you comes on once more, but this time, you welcome it with a swell of freedom in your chest. The waves of your mind calm, washing onto an empty beach and fading into a mesmerizing valley of blue.

Yoongi grins as he holds your hand, and you can't help but stretch your mouth wide as you both immerse into the crowd, moving and spinning and stepping perfectly together on every beat. Laughter and joy fills the space between your hearts as you all cheer, sharing this infinite moment together as fate intended.  

In a beautiful, unforgettable dance. 

-

-

fin :)

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hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist

a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!

a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here!

explicit warnings: cursing, thigh riding, cowgirl, oral (m rec), naughty studio time(??), couch sex, rough sex, giving yoongi the business, bold as fuck reader, choking, spanking, penetrative sex, kissing deserves to be here too lol, alexa play no hands by waka flocka, deep throating, hair/head tugging, nipple play, yoongi in that gd tank, yoongi in those gd glasses, teasing, titty fucking hello!!!!, stripping while he watches…. yeah, missionary, sub!3tanyoongi?????, scratching, multiple orgasms, protected sex, emotional sex, good god they’re so hot i’m blushing

—

—

It’s morning when Jimin gets a call. 

Shifting in sheets that aren’t his, he sleepily blinks once before eyeing the blue light with a squint, wondering who dares wake him up before his natural rise. What time even is it anyway? It’s gotta be an ungodly hour if his circadian rhythm is disturbed. 

Still, he grabs his cell from the nightstand, flinching at the movement behind him and inwardly slinging out curses. 

Because waking him up is one thing. 

But if anyone disturbs Taehyung he’s gonna give them hell—

Min Yoongi: Incoming Call

Shit.

Jimin yanks the covers off, rushing out of bed and snapping Tae awake anyway. For what? Don’t fucking know, but they’re ready. Wherever. Whatever. They already stayed up clutching their phones until they physically couldn’t keep their eyes open. 

Because as much as Yoongi assured him nothing would happen, Jimin still couldn’t let go of his car keys.

Answering slow, he feels his chest winding and winding, eyes locked with Taehyung while they both wait on edge, “…Yoongi?”

“Yeah.”

Thank the fucking stars. 

Yoongi’s okay. He’s on the line. He made it to morning or whatever fucking time it is, and he’s doing exactly what he said he would.

And it’s enough, enough, enough.

Burns zing up the corners of Jimin’s eyes, and he swipes hard as Taehyung moves, likely to hear what’s happening and even more likely to just be by his side. 

Jimin is grateful for either one. But he tries to keep composure as he croaks, “You better have woken me up for a reason.”

The slight hum on the line induces a wobbly smile. “You slept?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin shakily laughs, wiping liquid relief from an eye before Taehyung’s thumb brushes tenderly over the other. His gaze is thankful while continuing, “We did but not much.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sniffling, Jimin walks to Tae’s door, letting him into the hallway first and finally drinking in the sight of his ass in those sweats. Because he can finally function like a normal, smitten loser again. “We’ll come over so we can—”

“No need.”

“What?” Nope. Back to panic mode. And judging from his boyfriend’s posture, Taehyung has backpedaled into that, too. “What do you mean no need?”

There’s a slight pause on the line, and small noises make their way through the speaker. It sounds like bedsheets, but it also sounds like… 

“She’s still sleeping.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

A tidal wave of relief crashes into Jimin’s ducts as he hangs his head, palming his face caught in a heavy tide of emotion. When he turns, Taehyung fairs no better, his eyes red and fingers wiping at a perfect, perfect cheek. One of them sniffles, but Jimin can’t tell if it’s him or not, because his vision is blurry and his heart is beating, beating, beating again. 

Whether you know it or not, whatever you did last night may have just changed Yoongi’s entire life.

Because Jimin knows this man through and through. Years of picking up his habits and tells didn’t amount to nothing. It’s how he was able to sense exactly when to intervene, and how he knew exactly what that hauntingly hollow tone in Yoongi’s voice meant when he busted in that day. 

The tone he hears now? The man that just spoke on the line? 

That is a Min Yoongi so in love he can’t even hide it over the phone. 

Fuck. 

Gathering himself, Jimin squeaks out, “I… I’m glad you…” What the fuck does he say? Every thought jams in his throat so hard he has to hand the phone off.

Thankfully, Taehyung perfectly continues his thoughts, voice scratching rocks under a waking river, “We’re glad you’re both safe.”

“Mm.”

“So when’s the wedding?”

Jimin huffs through a fresh batch of tears, clearing his face before grinning at Tae very seriously awaiting an answer. Honestly, at this point? It’s not far-fetched. Jimin’s seeing your future clearer than his present, and maybe he will be a fun uncle sooner than he thinks.

If only Yoongi would just get the fucking talk with your brother over with. 

But Jimin understands the hesitation. If he were in that same position, there’s no telling when he would be courageous enough to stand up to the guy. There’s a reason he’s quick to command a room, and his lifelong mission to protect his younger sister made him grow up a lot faster than everyone else. 

Still… Yoongi just deserves to be happy. And you’re the very obvious answer to helping with that. 

As much as he may have wanted some chances of his own, Jimin is grateful you found your way into his best friend’s heart. Not just anyone is invited inside, and even less people can truly be allowed to stay. 

And you’re probably the only one that has permanent residence. 

“You guys should get some sleep.”

Taehyung pouts right on cue, and Jimin can’t fight those sleepy, droopy eyes. “You didn’t answer me.”

Cute as fuck! He must be stopped. Taking the phone, Jimin speaks into the line fully recovered, shooting his cheeky partner a teasing glare, “We will if you get some, too.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Got some things to do at the studio—”

“No!” They reject together, both equally as appalled because what the fuck kinda answer is that? 

“After what happened last night? Are you crazy?”

“What happened to spending time with her? Men!” 

“He’s going on a business trip, I can’t lose to him.”

“So what?” Tae asks before they both share an even further confused look. Yoongi may be a lovesick fool but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be a dumbass! “You’re just gonna leave her alone?”

There’s a sigh on the line before Jimin plants a hand on his hip. “Not just that. You gotta rest, too, bro. If she doesn’t tell you to take it easy or at least get checked—which she will—we’re going over there to annoy you.” 

“You serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious.” Jimin cocks his head and leans closer to the phone. “At least rest easy for the next couple days. Especially if you have all this time to see each other.”

The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Your brother is leaving for his trip and Yoongi caught some unfortunate hits to his ribs. The dude basically has a free pass to spend the whole week with you, and he’s not even taking full advantage of it? Oh, the things Jimin has to say about the thin line of work ethic and relationship effort. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it for a long time,” Taehyung cuts in before Jimin can pop off, walking away into the living room. 

It’s fine. Let him figure out that you aren’t a woman he can just leave. Frankly? That would tickle Jimin to no end to see Yoongi folding his plans so fast just to be with you. 

But he spares him the tirade only because you’re fast asleep right next to him. “Thank you for calling, man.”

“Said I would.”

“I know.” 

Because above all else, Jimin is happy to hear that voice. Even if it’s obvious he’s a little banged up from last night, it’s still Yoongi. In one piece. That’s all Jimin wanted, and he can’t thank you enough,

“Don’t overwork yourself, and stay with her as long as you can.”

There’s a small laugh on the other end. “I plan on it, Chim.”

And Jimin catches on to why. “I’m holding you to that then.” 

—

—

Dawn breaks through open blinds, stretching its orange tint across a clean, spotless table. 

You don’t know what got you up so early. But when you peer into the kitchen, you tell yourself you woke up right on time. 

Because seeing Yoongi when you’re wide awake is better than any dream you’ll ever have.

Not because of his appearance, even though the sight of him sends a pang through your chest. No. It’s the way he’s quietly prepping a morning meal, using the arm on his better side that’s not sporting a nasty hit to the ribs, without you even asking. 

Bits of sunlight dance right out of your eyes.

The effort. The consideration. This man shouldn’t be lifting a finger, yet here he is cooking before you even left his bed. Isn’t this the same man that got caught up in a fight hours ago? Isn’t this the same man you almost walked out on with a frozen heart? 

Yes. But he’s also the same man that loves you. And you still can’t grasp that concept in any of the fingers playing with his tee you borrowed.

“Hi,” you whisper, telling him a thousand things. 

To which he regards before smiling soft, voice travelling over linoleum and circling around your heart, “Morning, doll.”

Damn. You hear it. Yoongi’s sore as hell. 

But instead of getting into that right away, you silently take residence by his side. Because this moment feels too delicate, and you admire his willingness to take care of you unprompted. You didn’t even know you’d eat before going back home. 

With a hand warming his back, you wait until Yoongi’s done tossing food on the stove to peck his morning-chilled cheek. “Thank you for cooking,” you murmur, admiring those beautiful brown eyes. “Sleep okay?”

“Cus of you,” your lover softly responds, eyeing your lips before gliding back up to your gaze. “You?”

Ugh. He’s gotta know those glasses are so unfair. They’ve gotten you repeatedly before, and they’re certainly getting you now. 

But you can’t help but deflate at the cuts behind those rims, while knowing there are even more bruises hiding underneath his oversized tee. How is Yoongi cooking right now? How is he even awake? “Same.” 

“Good.” 

These instant, deep shivers at his deeper morning voice will never, ever go away. But anything you wanna do about them isn’t important right now. Right now, you need to make sure Yoongi is either okay, or finds a way to get better. 

Sliding your hands down the slopes of his chest, you delicately rest one on his ribs. “Does it still hurt?” 

Yikes. That wince is enough. But Yoongi doesn’t shy away from your touch, and you appreciate the way he stays honest. “It’s sore. But I should be good.”

“You gonna get it checked?”

There’s a slight upward tilt of his lips. “Not right now.” At least the honesty persists, as much as you don’t want him following the typical manly response to hospital visits. “But I will if you want me to.”

“Please go,” you gently urge, lest you disturb the soft morning dew before it melts with the sunrise. “For me?”

Only sizzles from the stove fill the space until Yoongi nods, and his voice is just as low and tender, “I’ll go after work.”

Oh. “You’re working today?”

Just like breakfast, you didn’t expect this, either. Frankly, you figured neither of you were gonna even think about work, much less go. Sure, he’s due a hospital visit and you owe some friends immediate explanations for your absence. But other than that, shouldn’t Yoongi be resting? 

Does his craft truly mean that much? 

Well, shit. You gotta respect his work ethic, that’s for damn sure. Because you would sequester yourself to your bedroom and have endless dates with your television if you were sporting a good jab or two. This music thing must mean more to Yoongi than you previously thought. And who are you to step on that dream? 

Suddenly, all thoughts and concerns flee from the kiss on your cheek. 

“I’ll stay if you stay,” he says, turning to move the pan and scrunching his face with a grunt. Fuck. 

“I…” Shit, you were gonna go back to the house anyway. And from Yoongi’s smartass smirk, you can tell he already knew that. “Just need to check on him, too. And he doesn’t have a car right now, so. I should at least give him a ride.” 

“Figured.” In a move so domestic your head spins, Yoongi turns your body and gently pats your butt. “Now go sit. Let’s eat and figure this out.” 

—

—

As you devour a flawless meal and clean your dishes, you plan out the day. You’ll head home and check on your brother while Yoongi heads to the studio, and then you’ll rendezvous with your friends to hang out until he’s done with work. They’re already lighting up your phone like no one’s business—especially Yuri. 

Yoongi flicks the sink off before you both head to his bedroom, and you melt at the way he slowly wraps his arms around your front halfway there, all four of your legs slowing to close the rest of the distance. 

What’s he doing? This is joyfully new, but you have a pretty tight deadline. Warming his forearm and your own cheeks, you chuckle out, “We have to hustle, old man.” 

“You hustle me all the time,” he accuses into your shoulder blade, kissing its ridge and making you reconsider walking out the door entirely. “Lemme have this.” 

Your second laugh is more subdued, and you’re right between his bed and desk when you lift both hands to hold him close. “You have everything I got,” you wisp into his skin, planting your lips once, twice before you feel his arms press further in. “So this is nothing.” 

Seconds and silence slide by, the delicate veil of early morning still hovering around the room. When Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you make to turn and face him. 

But you’re stopped before your heart skips. 

“I could stay like this all day,” he admits, voice so low it rumbles through your bones. “And it’d be perfect.” 

“What, you don’t wanna see my face?” You joke with a giggle. “Rude, but that’s fine.” 

Yoongi only buries his nose further, his glasses sliding against your skin peeking from his shirt. “I’m much braver right here, doll.” 

Oh. 

The leap your heart does is more of a dive, plummeting into the seafoam swirling around your feet. All the words you want to respond with jump off right after, leaving you with nothing but the clouds in your eyes. 

You don’t quite know what he means by that. But it feels like those six words hold the weight of a thousand, so you simply let another kiss on his smooth forearm linger. “Do you want me to go with you?” 

A puff of laughter warms you right through and, despite his earlier admission, Yoongi does slowly spin you around. 

And when you follow, you realize you’re much braver when you aren’t facing him, too. 

“It’s not that, babe,” he says through a dashing curve. “But the offer was cute.” 

“I take it back then.” 

“Damn!” 

Both of your laughs whoosh out and collide, sweeping as Yoongi pinches your side and you flinch towards the bed. “You fucker—!”

Before you know it, your back hits a comforter before a weight presses your stomach, emotions clashing as you’re elated and shy and immediately concerned for your boyfriend’s side. “Baby, be careful—”

Lips capture yours, sucking up your warning before a hand slides under your head. Sighing, you arch into his chest, feeling the weight of his chains slip across your breasts. 

Euphoria isn’t an adequate enough word to describe how you feel. Where there used to be flutters in your ribcage now reside strong, powerful wing beats, gusts of want and desire lifting you off the ground and launching you into clear skies. Starlight of every color exists within each kiss you share, and your fingers feebly grab his tee to keep you from falling back down to earth. 

“If we don’t go now,” Yoongi rasps before sliding his mouth against yours, “We’re never going anywhere again.” 

“I know,” you whisper, willingly letting him kiss you once more, “Is that a promise?” 

“Fuck, I wish.” 

You do, too. But you know you’re running out of time for what you need to do. And weren’t you just saying you had to respect his aspirations? Shit, you really do need to snap out of it. “Come on,” you order with a pat to his chest. “We have all week to do this. We got time.” 

Turns out, you’re still amongst the heavens. The way Yoongi’s looking at you? This is the closest you’ll ever get to being held by an angel. 

Did he get more handsome overnight? Or is it the light in his eyes sustained since his confession in the kitchen? You don’t quite know, and you may never pinpoint why, but the tug he has on your heart spans space and time. 

And you’ll run through both forever to keep meeting him again and again. 

Burns prick your eyes, but he mercifully stands before he can catch any evidence of your yearning. 

Just like that, the two of you bounce back to getting ready, with him sliding notebooks and headphones in a backpack while you change into your own clothes. As you sling your bag over a shoulder, he reaches for the closest hoodie, and you wordlessly make your way to the front door. 

You really do hope he gets looked at today. But just like the calm after a storm, you want to encourage him gently rather than shove him out. At least he seems receptive to your gentle suggestions.

But after you ask one more time and he simply nods, you lower your eyes to his kicks. “Sorry if I’m nagging. I’d just worry less if you went right away, that’s all.”

“You aren’t nagging, babe.” Your freshly bloomed lover reaches out to hold your wrist, smoothing a rough thumb over your skin. Fucking hell, you can’t help but frown at the gashes and cuts marring his knuckles. “I’ll go as soon as I can.”

Not just his hands, but his face. His ribs. And maybe other places you haven’t even seen yet. 

You don’t wanna leave his side. 

But you have to head out before your brother leaves. Things need to get patched up before he flies out into more stress, and you owe him an apology for walking out when he was still aching. Based on Yoongi’s physical state? Your brother could be hiding some big wounds and you didn’t even wanna talk to him. 

However. Was last night necessary? Absolutely. You cannot entertain the possible outcomes had you not tried hard enough to get through Yoongi’s door. His eyes were so dulled, his hands felt so cold. What would have happened if you didn’t force yourself inside? 

Why was that guitar smashed to pieces? 

This is also why you refuse to leave. So many questions, so many things you still don’t know. Like what all happened when you were separated? And how in the hell is this man in love with you?

“I don’t wanna go,” you confess, instantly encased in his arms and warmth. “I’d much rather keep kissing you.” 

“True,” he says with a resigned huff, shifting his glasses with an adorable nose scrunch. If only he didn’t have so many little red lines of conflict on his face. “But we both have stuff to take care of, so let’s get all that done first.”

“Ugh, fine.” Your groan is more teasing than serious, and Yoongi’s laugh is nothing but understanding. 

Damn. You still feel it. You really don’t wanna go. Be it the rawness of last night still on your skin, or the confessions still on your tongues, you just wanna stay by his side. “Sorry,” you breathe out, lacing your fingers to pepper love along his strong, reddened ridges. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna leave you right now.”

Walking out of Yoongi’s door just doesn’t feel right. Even if he’s right there and will be following you out. Is this feeling normal? Are you supposed to feel this tightly woven to someone? Because the stitching between your hearts has only gotten stronger in the tempest of last night, as if you bonded together just to hold on for dear life. 

Maybe that’s exactly what happened. And it’s exactly why you can barely take one step out of his place. 

“Then don’t.”

Not one second passes before your chin is held, and lips slide so tenderly across yours that they may as well melt into your touch. Your reaction is quickly swooped into his mouth, and everything falls away as you let him seize your every thought. Lightning from last night zips out of your limbs, your toes, your fingers clasping his loose tee. 

You might just cry where you stand.

How have his kisses gotten even better? How have you never felt this way even though you’ve done this far more times than you were ever supposed to? It should be impossible, and yet, this man finds even more ways to astound you. 

Yoongi slips a hand over your cheek, giving one more beautiful push of his lips as he confesses, “I don’t wanna leave you, either.” 

And your breath stutters onto his features. “You, too?”

Slow, he kisses your cheek, the clear rim of his specs skimming your nose. When he draws back, you look right into his eyes, wondering why he’s watching your mouth instead. 

“Me, too.” Yoongi kisses your other side with a quiet peck. “Fuck, me, too.” 

You fucking hate what you have to do, but you don’t have a choice. 

With one last lingering kiss, you both gather enough courage to set out and do what you must. 

—

—

Your house is already a flurry of activity as you enter to see your brother in the kitchen, packing his leather duffle that’s a constant companion on his trips. 

Of course. The memory of him purchasing the lavish accessory pops into your head every time you watch him scurry around, dimples ever present on his proud cheeks. It’s almost enough to make you smile yet again. 

But you can’t when the same face is currently scratched to hell. Just like Yoongi’s, if not worse. 

Fuck, is he really gonna travel looking like that? 

“Hey,” he rasps out, still fighting off slumber. “You’re back earlier than I thought.” 

“Wanted to check on you before we left.” Fuck, your voice sounds like it’s being forced through a clogged pipe. Loosen the hell up! “And dude. Put some bandaids on, yeah?” 

“Yeah, just give me a sec. Making sure I have everything before my ride gets here.” 

“Huh?” He got a ride? You’re here now so you can take him to the airport. “You sure you don’t need me to drive you?” 

“Yeah, it’s all good. I didn’t know you were coming back.” 

Shit. His body seems just as angular as it did last night. Which, quite frankly, could still be from what went down in the lot. 

Because even though you see both men banged up, you suddenly realize you don’t actually know what all transpired. 

After all, there wasn’t much talk of it after you walked into the tempest of Yoongi’s living room.

Of course, you aren’t gonna bring it up just this second. There are other things to ask about and make sure of first. “Wallet? Phone? Passport?” 

“Yup, yup, uhh.. Yup.” 

Zippers sling in the quiet morning air as you continue, “And you’re coming back on Friday, right?”

“Oh.. Nah.” When you start crossing the kitchen, your brother hauls his leather bag over his better shoulder. Honestly, no one would be able to tell the other one’s bruised with his suit on. That thing damn well covers everything except the cuts on his face and hands. “Saturday.” 

You pause in your journey to the medicine cabinet. “Wait.. Saturday? The release party’s on Friday.”

“Yeah.. I know.”

What the fuck? That’s bullshit they’re keeping him longer than they have to. Struggling to understand how corporate can keep your brother on a leash and get away with it, you urge, “Tell them to at least let you go home a day early. Don’t you wanna support your friends?”

“You mean Yoongi?”

A zing of terror zips through your eyes, freezing every vein in an instant. 

The fuck was that question? Never mind. Stay calm stay calm stay fucking calm. “Uhh, yeah, he’s one of them? But the other guys, too, right? I know you care about them and this is huge.”

Mercifully, your sibling just shakes his head and waves you off. “Don’t you think I already tried? I don’t wanna miss it but I don’t have a choice. Conference schedule is pretty tight and I’m heading the panel on Friday.”

“Is it in the morning? You can fly out after—”

“Why are you fighting so hard?”

“Why aren’t you fighting harder!”

Okay, what in the hell is happening right now? Screw optics and how this must look for you, your brother needs to be there. Him and Yoongi are the tightest of friends, the most ride or die duo you’ve ever seen. You can’t picture a timeline where he misses this monumental moment, and it’s starting to really upset you that he’s barely trying. 

“You think I’m not fighting for it?”

“I certainly don’t think you’re trying enough—”

“Alright, you know what?” Hard steps surge forward as you stand rigid, a duffle hastily dumped onto tile. “You don’t know what I’ve tried. You don’t even know if I even told him yet.”

Fucking shit. You hold his stare before turning away, tossing out the idea of bandages entirely and searing footsteps into the hallway—

“Or do you.”

Before icing over with the unforgiving frost of zero gravity space. 

Slow, you turn, not quite facing him but not backing down, either. “…Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You talkin’? What else has he been doing to you?”

Oh. Fuck that. 

Doing to you? 

Fuck all of this. This is too much to handle right now and you know you’re gonna snap if he keeps pushing because you are not having this conversation right before he leaves. You’ve already thought about this before, right? You cannot fuck with his head right before business trips because he needs to be on and locked in. 

But now he’s fucking with your temper and those are some choice fucking words pulled out of his ass. 

You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately threatened this man to his face and meant it before, and it tears a sharp corner of your heart, “You better be very careful. With whatever you wanna say next.”

The air proves too thick to slice. While your body stands aflame, your brother is iced over, brimming with an energy that damn near takes physical form. “All I’m saying is? I find out some fucking bullshit is going on—”

No no no, not now.

Reacting fast is your only instinct, brain haywire and fizzling fizzling boiling. Harsh, you spin on your heel and shout the first thing you can think of, “Oh, come on—”

“You better hope to god you’re ready for what’s coming—”

“Stop!” Fuck fuck fuck, this is so frustrating because your head is exploding and your body is screaming to just tell him already. Fuck the consequences at this point this is ludicrous. 

Doing to you? Yoongi? How dare he speak about his best friend like that how dare he accuse him without outright saying the words all you have to do is tell your brother how wrong he’s got it. 

But you can’t be the one. Yoongi said he would, and he probably took months to get to that point of strength—and healing, from what you can tell. 

This is between them. Them. You have to honor that, as much as you wanna just confess everything now and deal with it yourself. 

But goddamn your brother is pulsing with anger and it’s leaking into your own charged air. 

What does he think is happening? Does he think Yoongi’s just, what, playing you? He’s wrong. He’s so wrong. Yoongi’s been nothing but the best thing that’s ever happened to you and shit your heart hurts because…

Your brother is valid in thinking that. 

How foolish. Didn’t you guard your heart from Yoongi for the longest? Didn’t everything start because you figured you knew who he was because of his reputation? You got him all wrong, too. So how can you be mad at your brother for doing the same? 

Fuck, think. Just think before someone gets hurt. 

Because if you aren’t careful, someone—or multiple someones—will get hurt in seconds. You have to bear the pain alone right now. To protect them both, you have to keep your trembling mouth shut. 

And? You have to admit that something isn’t fair here. Not to you, not to Yoongi, but to him. Last night was rough as fuck but, while you both got to have raw, beautiful closure, the one standing in front of you had to go to sleep in an empty house. 

So chill the fuck out. 

Breathing to cool down, you tense and loosen, tense and loosen. “I get it. You’re angry, and you have a lot going on. But,” you bite down on your lip to keep going. “We’re talking about something else. We’re talking about you, and I’m still pissed you even let those guys goad you into a fight. What are we, twelve?”

Seething, your sibling takes the switch of pace. But it is not what you want to hear. “Are you seri—? What the hell was I supposed to do? That son of a bitch grabbed you—”

“I know,” you recoil. “Don’t tell me like you were there, because you weren’t.”

Finally—finally—those angry lines in his face vanish. 

But they make way for something much worse than anger. Because your older brother, someone that’s been there for you your whole life.. 

Looks absolutely stricken over the one time he wasn’t. 

Damn it. 

Regretful, you drop your shoulders in exhaustion and quiet compromise. When you continue, your voice is much softer, “But I told you: they were. Your friends, they were there because they knew you wanted that. Jimin got me away, Yoongi took me home and stayed.” 

You really have got to stop saying his name like you love him. It could start becoming too obvious. 

Shuddering, you shift your weight, folding your arms and shrinking into yourself. 

That night, despite Yoongi’s best and most gentle efforts, still clings to where that loser touched you at Dalo. You hate that you haven’t gotten over it, and you loathe the way you still rub over the same spot. Over, and over. “What did you want him to do? Leave me here?”

“No.” 

“Exactly. And he didn’t.” You adjust your stance again, making an impromptu gamble as you decide to let some truth leak out. Because your brother is owed at least this much. “And fine, you wanna know something? We do talk more because of it.”

Your brother’s head snaps up, and you brace. Because if you show any shred of weakness or hesitation, he’ll see right through your weak attempt to hide most of the truth, 

“But don’t ever accuse him of doing anything to me. That was fucked up to say and you know it.”

“Fuck.” In agreement, he rubs his hair back. “It was. I’m sorry.” 

“Trust me,” you swallow, hating that this is how things have to be for now. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s never.. Never done anything to me, anyway.” 

It’s not a lie. Everything he’s done has been with you. For you. Because of you. 

But your heart’s in anguish as it sinks. Because that expression on your older sibling’s face can only be one thing.  

Pure. Utter. Relief.

Fire singes your eyes before you can quell the flame. It’s the hardest technical truth to swallow. 

Sure, he doesn’t have anything to worry about as far as you being safe. And on top of that, he doesn’t have to worry about any fake shit because Yoongi confessed to you last night.

But as far as his best friend sleeping with and now dating his sister behind his back? That is still very much sitting right in the center of the table. 

And now you’re starting to see just how fucked all three of you are as soon as you sit down to eat the truth. 

But Yoongi said he’d be the one to tell, so he will. 

This feeling is so fucking miserable, though. 

In the end, your brother is effectively convinced, raking a hand across his head and sighing. “Jimin told me what all went down at Dalo, I just… Last night was… Fucked up.” 

“Well, yeah.”

“No. See, this is just like what you said to me. You can’t say it like you were there.”

It’s your stomach’s turn to twist. “So? You were scratched and bruised to hell, and Y…” Shut up, shut up. You’re not supposed to know about the state of anyone else. “And you were… quieter.”

“Because of what happened, dude.”

You blink. “What… What happened?”

Your brother looks at you—really looks at you. 

And suddenly, your gut flares in terror, storming in an instant across your abdomen. 

“That bitch pulled something on us.”

Your heart. 

It’s in freefall.

“Wait… What?” You can’t even form more than one syllable at a time, your legs turning gelatinous and knees starting to give out. “No… What are you…?”

What the fuck did he just say? That bitch pulled a what? 

Your sibling slowly walks toward you once again, watching like he’s just waiting for you to say anything. Do anything. 

But you’re a complete statue because all you can think about is the horror of something happening and the relief that nothing happened all at once. 

Was Yoongi too scared to mention that part? Is this why he was holding back and shaking every time he reached out to touch you? Even this morning, he was so… 

You’ve never seen him like that. Is this why? 

Your mind is swirling and crashing, overlapping each passing thought and scream running through your head. “I’m so sorry,” you hitch out, “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna scare you,” he sighs out. Putting both hands on his hips, your brother stops feet away, visibly still shook as he pierces wooden planks with his stare. “But he pulled it right before Yoongi… and if it weren’t…Fuck.” 

Burns flare and slice through your eyes when he has to pause. What is he trying to say? Pulled what? 

Before Yoongi what? 

Your brother continues, and your throat tightens. “If it weren’t for some random ass sirens, I… Things could’ve been so different.” 

What the fuck is happening. What the hell are you hearing? 

“It was probably dumb as fuck. But I was so fucking angry,” he grits out, watery eyes crushed looking your way. “So fucking mad at how he was talking about you, I.. Walked right up to him and told him to fuck off.”

You can’t even breathe. 

“I still feel it,” he quietly adds, fingers pressed against his side. “Right here.” 

“Fuck,” you finally choke out, eyes on fucking fire. 

“But all I knew was to keep you all safe,” he says, with hardened resolve and a wobbly chin. “And that’s exactly what I did. I did that shit, even if that meant—” 

Tears fling out of your eyes, flowing hot down your cheeks because you wouldn’t want any of them to go out that way. Nothing happened nothing happened nothing happened and yet your body is acting as if something did and it hurts. 

Your brother is there as soon as you crumple forward, letting you bury your head in his chest and sob your heart out. For him, for his friends, and for all the time you had with the man you love so, so dearly. 

If anything happened to your brother before you came clean… If anything happened before you and Yoongi could even… 

Suddenly, you feel equal weights of guilt. For running out on your brother. And for almost walking out on Yoongi. 

You decide an apology is in order for both of them, and all the understanding in the world for Yoongi’s frosted demeanor as soon as you get him alone again.

And you are one hundred percent going to tell your brother everything once he’s back. 

The tears cannot stop, and you’re sure you are crying unimpeded in a pressed and primmed suit. “I’m so sorry,” you keep repenting like a prayer. “This is all my fault.”

“No—”

“You almost—”

“Hey, stop.” He yanks you back, both of your faces soaked with saltwater. “What did I say before? I threw the first swing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But it led to all this, I just.. I just feel so fucking stupid.”

“Don’t. Hey, look at me.” Firm but gentle, he holds you at arm’s length, forcing you to face him. “Maybe we’re both stupid, but you weren’t the idiot. I was.” 

You feel so many conflicting things in your soul. 

What would you have done if Yoongi was in critical condition? What would you have done differently if your brother was instead? Are they the same? Are the two situations really so different anymore? 

No they aren’t they aren’t they aren’t. 

“Please don’t do that again,” you shake out. “Even if it was for me, if I ever lost you, I...” 

“You know I can’t promise anything.” He furrows his brows when you eye him with anger and sadness. “But nothing like that is happening again. Especially with the same dudes.” 

“Okay.” 

A vicious tornado of emotions sends your whole body into agonizing pain. This isn’t what you expected at all, and it’s causing your limbs to lock at the bends. Too many scenarios are jangling about yet you can’t ask for specifics because that will just make it even more real. 

A nightmare is somehow better once you know it ends with you waking up. “I’m… gonna need some time to process everything.”

“I know. And I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but… You deserve to know the things I get into.” 

Ah. 

The irony is not lost on you. 

“At least, if they involve you. We learned our lesson. You were right to tell us off.”

God. You feel numb. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, suddenly immensely tired. “I think I need more sleep.”

A blaring honk sounds outside the house, and you both flinch at the noise. 

And your throat burns at the way your brother instinctively swept you behind his back. 

When you realize what it is, you know what has to come next. 

And he’s the first to react as he turns to face you again, “Alright. I’m heading out, just remember to go get my baby when she’s fixed, yeah?”

“Do you have to go?”

Wait.

The question seems to startle him as much as it does you. 

How did you blurt it right out before even registering the words? Why does your heart clench at the sight of those eyes looking so pained? 

Why does everything feel so shaky within these walls that were always your home?

“I do,” he says, voice tight. “I’m sorry.” 

And why the fuck do you feel sad he’s leaving?

“No, no, it’s.. Of course you have to.” You can’t help the lump in your throat from bobbing, the regret in your limbs as they barely move at your side. “I dunno why I asked, I guess I just..” 

There’s no response to your sniffle. 

“Sorry for yelling,” you squeak out. “I just feel really queasy.”

For a lot more reasons than one.

“We all made it out,” your brother whispers. “That’s what matters.”

“Will you… Will you at least try to be back for the party?”

The man swallows with his brows knit tight, then attempts to crack the tiniest smile. “You know I will. That’s my guy.” 

“Okay.” You nod, sniffling again. After what he just told you? You know he’ll do anything for the ones he loves. “See you there.”

Your brother rubs a comforting palm over your head before turning, heading for the door and grabbing his leather duffle. 

When he stops to glance at you one more time, you give a little wave of your hand before watching the door click shut. 

Chest caving as you collapse to the ground in tears. 

—

—

The need to call Yoongi burns so harshly your fingers damn near set your top aflame.

But he’s at work, and you can’t fuck things up right when you’re approaching the finish line. You almost did with your brother, and that gave you twelve heart attacks in the span of minutes. 

Still. Your chest aches so much that a thirteenth could very well be approaching. You don’t even realize you’re bracing the hallway wall for support until you try to stand, back sore and aching from bending so far for so long. 

What did your brother mean to say about Yoongi? What did that coward pull on them? Do you even want to know what happened? 

Fighting back tears, you reach down for your phone, shakily typing out a message only to erase it. Then again. And again. 

And again. 

Giving up, you forcefully swallow all your worries, cringing at the bitterness of the unknown and the burnt molasses of hidden truths. 

It’s going to be okay. No matter what you think or imagine in your head, they made it out, they made it out, they are all alive. 

That’s the only reason you can move forward, each step getting you from your room. To your bathroom. 

And back again. 

—

—

After showering, you feel lighter and refreshed, though the soreness between your legs has yet to leave. 

But you wouldn’t want it any other way, as it’s another reminder of Yoongi’s apparent brush with survival. His broken living room spurned the creation of your bond, your devotion to him as he confessed before you gave him your utmost trust in his sheets. 

The end is so close. As soon as this week is over, you’ll rip the last bit of peel from your pair of tangerines, baring all truths to your brother and facing the consequences. 

Finally ready, you head to your car, opening your text threads with a plan: start slow. 

Start with something that can be interpreted neutrally if anyone saw it on his phone screen, especially if your headstrong ex is in the room. 

You [12:31pm]: how are you feeling?

Yoongi [12:34pm]: 1 Attachment 

You close your door with brows furrowed. 

Yoongi’s at the hospital? 

That’s not what you expected at all. 

Your chest swells with relief knowing he’s there, but you also wanna make sure he’s feeling okay. Especially his mental state after whatever the fuck your brother just dropped on you before leaving. 

Goddamn, that’s going to gnaw at your brain until you find the right time and right amount of courage to ask about it. Because it’s very possible Yoongi won’t tell you. 

Because it’s probably something he knows you won’t like. 

Fuck. 

You [12:34pm]: Loved an Attachment

You [12:34pm]: thank you for listening🤍 still sore?

Yoongi [12:35pm]: Yeah, but not bad. Just there.

Wait. He’s not at the studio. That means you can—

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you slowly say as you pull out into the street. “I’m driving now so this is easier.”

“Course. You going to Tae’s?”

“Maybe. I’m going to Yuri’s first.” You swallow, realizing that you didn’t tell him about what you let slip before driving over. “I.. Told her. About you.”

There’s a little bit of silence on the line, just some adjustments and muffled speaker sounds. “Sorry, just writing this down. What’s wrong with that?”

You huff through your nose. Gotta be those patient forms that always take forever to fill out. “Oh. Just more and more people knowing, is all.” 

“Everyone’s gonna know eventually.” 

You hold back a small smile. Because he’s right. “Yeah. I’m just tired of this feeling.”

“Like you’re hiding something.”

It’s your turn for silence. He doesn’t know how accurately that was played out today. The only answer you can provide is a curt, “Exactly.”

“Same.”

Wings beat around your heart again. 

He wants this. Yoongi really, really wants this. And years ago, that outcome wouldn’t have even crossed your mind as an option. 

“Thank you for going, baby.”

“The guys made me.”

You hum. “Which ones.”

After a pause, you hear a puff of amusement. “All of them at some point today, actually.” 

All of them? Does that include your brother? Did they talk about the trip already?

Your laugh is bittersweet. “Well. Glad to know you can be forced by everyone else except me.”

“Hey, I was already gonna go because of you!” Yoongi quietly retorts, and you giggle at the pout in his words. “Just wanted to get a headstart on work first.”

You were right. He really does wanna go all out for his musical endeavors. 

It’s extremely admirable, and wildly attractive, but it does come to a point. “As much as I love your passion, old man, I wanna keep you upright.”

He laughs soft into the line, and you think you can listen to that specific sound on an infinite loop. “That’s fair.” 

“How long is it gonna take, you think?”

“Dunno. But I’ll keep myself busy until I’m out.”

Of course he will. You don’t doubt he won’t waste any time. Didn’t he bring journals in his backpack? You wouldn’t be surprised if he wrote ten thousand songs before being called in. “Just call me if you need anything, please?”

“Of course, babe.”

“Thank you,” you say with utmost sincerity. “If only my brother would be less stubborn and get checked, too.”

“He’ll probably do it once he gets there.”

“Did you convince him?”

“Nah. But once he knows I did, he’ll do it.”

“Figures.” You scoff. “Okay, I’m almost there. Let me know how it goes.”

“K. Bye, doll.”

You didn’t ask him what went down. But it’s not the time nor place, and you have plenty of chances this week to figure out when that would be—if at all. 

“Talk soon.” 

—

—

For a normally bustling household, Yuri’s house is quiet. 

So it’s not shocking when you walk into the kitchen and see all your friends glance your way, slowly vacating their chairs with eyes never leaving your face. Even Reia is on high alert. 

Did Yuri tell her? Did Yuri tell anyone else? 

No. She’s a talker and loves spilling, but she promised. And when she promises something, you know you can trust her to keep it. 

It’s what pours emotion in your voice as you meekly greet, “Hey, guys—”

A crushing hug closes your throat. Yuri’s the one that gets to you first, with Reia and Dominique waiting their turns to offer you healing, relieved embraces. 

“What happened?” 

“Scared us half to death.”

Dom puts you at arm’s length to give a once over, noting your face rubbed raw and eyes still a little bloodshot. Thankfully, her pupils hold more concern than disappointment. “You good?”

Your eyes wobble alongside your smile, and you think it’s enough proof. “More than that,” you still decide to whisper, and your heart beats again at her reaction. 

“Thank god. I was ready to kick your ass if you weren’t.”

Heading up to Yuri’s room, you all wait until the door is swung back before mounting her canopy bed, sitting in a tight circle as you divulge everything. 

Well. Almost everything. 

You tell them that Yoongi is the one you’ve been seeing, how you went to check on him last night in a panic, and the terrifying reason why. When you mention the fight after the basketball game, all three of your friends erupt in questions, and you have to assure them everything turned out okay. Honestly, you also do this to assure yourself, too. 

“So… Your brother’s just fine with all of this?” Reia asks, not noticing the tick of Dom’s jaw. 

“Well,” you start with a higher pitch, earning a pair of groans. “He doesn’t exactly know yet—”

“Yup. He’s gonna murder him.”

“Yeah, should we say our condolences now or..”

“How long has this been going on?” Reia fires off another question that digs into your chest. “Was he the one you were seeing the whole time?”

“Yes,” you admit with a sigh. “I should’ve told you guys from the beginning, but. The whole thing just felt so delicate. But! We just started making things official recently, so..” 

Dom turns your way. “Official how?”

Well. Here goes everything. 

With a shaky breath, and lingering feelings from the time it happened, you reveal with watery eyes, “Yoongi… Told me he loves me.”

Both Yuri and Reia react in yelps, Dom’s gaze lowering as the girls reach to grab your hands. 

Wait. What’s going on with her? She’s the one that knows the most, she’s the one that covered for you all those months ago. She has to be the one that is the least surprised at all this. 

Blinking, you note to confront her about it later. Right now, you’re too focused on trying not to cry as your friends tumble out questions and support, 

“He said it? Did you say it first or did he?” 

“How did it happen! Oh, I’m so happy for you, babe—” 

“Thank—thank you, Yuri,” you squeeze out as she hugs you close. “I couldn’t believe it, but he just.. Said it. We weren’t even doing anything, I was just.. Looking up what injuries he could have..” 

And he confessed in the most Yoongi fashion he could have. 

Looking back, it shouldn’t shock you at all. He’s always found ways to sweep you off your proverbial feet, so why would a confession plucked from the heavens be any different? 

She lets you go before wiping her eyes, Reia and even Dom now sporting watery pupils, too. 

“As much as I’m upset at you for not telling us, I’ve never been so happy for you.” When Yuri’s features crease in another sob, you sniffle along with the rest. “It’s been so long since you… And you really.. Fuck.” 

You know what she’s trying to say, and the realization has your throat constricting so tight. 

It’s been forever since you’ve had something like this, someone like this. When you and Jungkook were together, you told him that you loved him before he broke it off. 

Sure, you bought the rings together, but he never uttered those words until years after when it didn’t even matter. And all your relationships after his were complete and utter bullshit, so you don’t think you ever even heard those three words and knew them to be true. 

Yoongi was the first to ever say them so sincerely. 

And that fact makes your ducts burn and burn. 

And when Yuri finally speaks, it breaks the dam holding your real deluge back, 

“I can’t think of anyone else that deserves to be loved more than you.” 

All at once, everything streams out as you hunch forward. The pain of everything you’ve endured, the hopelessness of knowing you’d most likely end up alone, the excruciating prospect of a future that you never deemed bright, or peaceful, or comforting. 

And to think that even this man could’ve been snatched away from you in a snap? Even more tears overlap with the ones you’re shedding, and you can’t even reach out to hug all three beautiful, angelic souls surrounding you with tight arms and sobs because your limbs lock at all bends. 

It’s the exact release you need. All your friends supporting you, all the pent up anxiety of last night and today, the truth setting itself free in some capacity—all in the comfort of a plushie-laden bed you only doubted yourself in last time. 

Everything’s gonna be alright. It has to be. You’re gonna fight for the ones you love, even if a war between them is inevitable. 

It takes a few minutes of heavy silence for you all to separate, swiping and rubbing tears while letting out happy sniffles. 

When you thank them for being understanding, they assure you it’s okay. And when you say you’re going to tell your brother soon, a force from the doorway has all of you leaping from lilac sheets, 

“Tell him what?” 

Jia stands firm with a laundry basket at her hip, and Yuri scoffs at her older sister for barging in. “A knock would’ve been nice!” 

Fuck! 

You can’t tell Jia of all people. If you spill anything about Yoongi, she’s one hundred percent going to tell your brother. They’re the same age, and run in pretty tight circles, so of course you are not going to risk it. 

But you can tell her something else you’re going to tell your older sibling, so you fire out a half-truth, 

“Tell him not to pick any other fights that could get him killed.” 

Jia’s eyes zoom to your wrecked face, and she drops the laundry with haste before asking, “What happened? When? Tell me now.” 

Huh. Maybe your brother has a type, if he’s still into Jia like he said before. 

You feel a little spark in your chest as you let her know they all got in a scuffle after the basketball game, and another pang as she immediately abandons the room and clothes with a fierce declaration, 

“I’m gonna kill them myself!” 

“Don’t worry, I already hounded my brother!” You call out after her, sighing as Yuri shakes her head with a smile. “She gets like that when she’s really worried, huh.” 

“Yeah..” Your friend leans to look around you, noticing the basket left alone on the ground. “And if she’s super fired up, she drops everything and doesn’t stop until it’s handled. Clearly.” 

Maybe both older siblings really are similar. 

The firestorm of an interruption seemed to break the tension in the room, with all of you finally relaxing and catching up. When they ask you questions, you answer what you can. 

And when you divulge information that has your ears burning, their squeals and yells give you whole new reasons to live. 

—

—

After a very comforting lunch Yuri’s mom cooked, you head to the bathroom when your phone suddenly vibrates through your palm.

Huh? That’s weird. You expect the name on your screen to be Taehyung, not Yoongi. 

Not that it’s a bad thing. You’ve been waiting to hear from him, so this is a pleasant surprise. 

Closing the door to the guest bathroom, you gaze at the calming sage decor with a smile. “Hi, how did it—”

“You’re coming over later, right?”

Oh, shit. Is he okay?

“Yes, baby,” you respond with a soothing lilt, ears perked and body on high alert. 

Does he think you aren’t anymore? You both decided on the plans earlier. Surely he knows you’d never just flake on him. “I’m coming back once you’re done with work, remember?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause on the line, which makes your boyfriend’s next question jab you so far in the lungs you can’t breathe,

“…Can it be now?”

Shit. 

Just like Jia earlier, you drop every plan you have to the wayside. You’re sure that Taehyung will understand, and you already got through the biggest conversation you needed to with your friends. 

“Of course,” you whoosh out. “Lemme just say bye and I’ll go.” 

“Take your time.” A small shuffling interrupts. “It’ll take me a bit to get back.” 

“Okay. See you there.” 

The strained urgency in his voice makes your hair stand on end, so you vacate the bathroom to inform the girls that you gotta go—but not without a quick head tilt towards Dom, who follows you outside and into the afternoon sun.  

—

—

You wait until you’re next to your car on the street, turning with a concerned expression and jittery nerves, “What’s up with you? Did I do something wrong?”

Turns out, you read Dominique correctly. Her jaw locks before loosening, and it reminds you of the time she confronted you about Yoongi before. God, how much has changed since then. That feels like ages and ages ago. 

“It’s not about you,” your best friend clears the air and the tightness in your shoulders. “I’m just.. Glad he came around.”

“Yoongi?” When Dom nods, you blink. “Wait, what?”

“At your house that night.. After he left your room, we had—I dunno, a heart-to-heart.” She sighs, flicking braids over her shoulder. You note to compliment the beads she chose this time, because they remind you of summer and simpler times. “I might’ve pressured him a bit, and.. I think he wanted to tell me that he loved you. All the way back then.” 

Something in your heart stutters, and you can only repeat your last question, “What?”

“Yeah. Something about needing to do something first,” she continues, holding your gaze with perfect brows furrowed in sunlight. “But I could tell he was damn serious about whatever it was. And if he was willing to do it for you? I let it go.” 

Your mind whirls. 

Yoongi was already in love with you back then? Is that why he needed to let you go? To deal with whatever he had to do? 

One side of you breaks thinking he had to go through all that alone; the other side is screaming at his past self for not even giving you a choice. What did he go through? What did he have to do?

Now you really have to see him. Immediately. 

“Thank you, Dom,” you rush out while opening your door. “I’m just happy it’s over.”

“The hell it’s not.” Shooting you a glare that heats the oncoming breeze, she reminds, “It’s not over until your brother knows. And based on everything that’s happened? That conversation is not gonna go over well.” 

A dark, simmering boil starts in your stomach, and you’re already feeling queasy again. Tightening your door handle, you gulp hard. “I know.” 

“Trust me, I’m happy for you both. I am.” Both hands find her hips as she levels a gaze that you really, really don’t enjoy. “But I’m gonna be honest, I think this is gonna ruin their friendship for good.” 

Both of your lungs clamp shut. 

“Please don’t say that,” you beg, “I’m gonna fight for all of us. I will.” 

“I don’t doubt that, babe. Hey, uh uh, come here.” Reaching out, she gives you a tight hug just when you feel fragile again. 

“Listen to me. I don’t doubt that,” she says into your shoulder. “I’m just here to be realistic. Just don’t be shocked if that’s how it goes. We’ll be here for you no matter what, too.” 

“Okay,” you say with a scrunched face into her scent. God, she always smells so good, and it’s almost enough to calm you down. Almost almost almost. “Thank you. But I’m not giving up.” 

“That’s my girl.” She squeezes you one more time. “I love you.” 

With eyes searing over, you choke and grip her tighter. “I love you, too.” 

—

—

Yoongi’s door warms your back as you wait for him to show. 

But there’s a good chance it can just be your volcanic anxiety. 

Ever since your arrival, you’ve paced, you’ve gnawed on your lips, you’ve had to shake the nerves out of your hands. 

And over and over, you’ve strained your neck to look for your favorite cat, because you could sincerely use even a glimpse of her right now. 

While she doesn’t end up showing, Yoongi rounds the nearest corner minutes after your last desperate scan. 

Fuck, he’s so handsome. 

Even now, as he simply walks toward you with a backpack slung over his shoulder, you watch with undying yearning to feel those flowing bangs over his forehead. You’d even settle for a single touch of his cheeks, one of them currently sporting a thin bandage.

But the closer Yoongi gets, the quicker your admiration morphs into concern. There’s a deep bend in his brows that you can’t decipher, and his fist is balled pretty tight. 

Seriously, what happened? He looks so troubled that you slowly push off the doorway to ask, 

“Baby, what’s—”

A bag hits the ground before you’re swooped into a kiss so electric your lips spark. 

Him. Him, him, and more him. For the love of everything you don’t understand what’s happening but you kiss Yoongi back with everything you have, arms slinging around his strong shoulders and tugging him closer because he clearly needed this. 

And fuck if you didn’t need it just as much. Screw it if anyone sees you. This is all you want and you’ll stay right here until he pulls away. 

When he finally does, both of you swallow to catch your breaths, and your soul glimmers when his forehead meets yours. 

“Hi, baby,” you whisper to his exhales. “Missed you, too.”

Silent, your lover kisses your forehead before hugging you close, and you’re more sure of your prediction than ever. Something is bothering him. 

He doesn’t look worse, at least. But there’s clearly something off and he’s not hiding it. His lack of words is loud enough. 

“Let’s go inside,” you quietly suggest. “I would’ve gone in already but I don’t have a key.”

He nods, fishing out his keyring to let you both inside. 

When you set your bags down and slip off your shoes, it’s only seconds before you’re softly pulled into a hug again, surprising yet so, so welcoming. 

Even only after a few hours, you’ve missed the fuck out of him. Which makes all of this an outright dream. 

“Sorry,” Yoongi finally murmurs against your shoulder. “I just…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You stroke a hand along his hair, massaging his scalp and loving how soft it feels. The windswept strands fall back into place as you keep running your fingers through. “Did you at least get your appointment?”

“Yeah, I did.” He buries his face further. “Nothing bad. Just can’t lift anything heavy for a couple days.”

“Good. That’s easy to manage,” you whisper back into his tee, feeling the chill of lingering air conditioning and body warmth all at once. “Is something else bothering you?”

“Not exactly.” Whatever that means. “I’ll tell you about it later. Just wanted this, and you.”

Oh. That’s… 

“I’m here now, love,” you assure with a melting heart, wondering what happened to cause this behavior. 

Is it because of last night? Or something that happened today? You’re anxious all over again, but from the way Yoongi’s acting, your worries are second to his. “Have you eaten yet?”

He shakes his head, only pulling you closer with not a word from his lips. 

And from this point on, you make a silent vow to yourself. Whatever Yoongi needs, you’re going to take care of him. 

No matter what, these next few days are all about him—a minuscule sacrifice in comparison to everything he’s done for you, whether you knew about it or not.

“I’ll make you something then. Come on.” 

When you walk, you slip your hand down his arm to hold his hand, and your lead into his kitchen is short. 

“Any requests?” You cheerfully ask as you spare a smile over your shoulder. “We can do… Something light…”

Only to see him staring back with nothing but a lingering sense of longing.

Okay. 

You need to get to the bottom of this now. 

Stopping right over linoleum, you leave no room for arguments, “Yoongi. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He blinks before his gaze meets the floor. So you’re confused when he simply, quietly.. 

Laughs? 

“It’s not that something’s wrong,” he slowly starts, a shy smile carving his features. “For the first time in my life, nothing’s wrong.” 

Your heart beats extra loud. 

“But it’s too much to explain right now.” His eyes rise to meet yours. “Just know that I’m so in love with you.” 

Oh.

“And I want you to know that every day I live.”

Fuck.

Your body responds before you can say anything, lips connecting to remove any need for speech. The knowledge of them all staring death in the face last night makes this confession sear your insides, and you can’t help but kiss him like you’ll never get to again. 

Yanking him back, you spin on your heel until he flings into the kitchen, clutching your wrists before gripping your jaw with both hands. 

His mouth heats on yours, his glasses the only barrier between your skin. Everything sizzles from your head to your toes, and you both bang into a countertop before—

“Fuck, ouch.”

“Shit, you okay?”

Yoongi rubs his side with one eye pinched shut, a corner of his teeth present. “Yeah. Worth it, though.”

“Be serious,” you reprimand. Looks like he’s gonna have to take it easy, which means no going at it like animals until he’s on the mend. “No more until you feel better, yeah?”

“Says who?”

“Babe.”

His deadly pout almost breaks your resolve. “Fine.” 

But you can wait. You’re sure it won’t take long, and for this man? You’ll wait however long you need to. 

Besides, there’s plenty of things you can do in the meantime that don’t require running into hard objects. 

“Good. Now let’s…” You turn away to get started before you’re held, and pulled back into yet another embrace. 

What the hell is happening today? Your lungs and your melting pile of a brain can only take so much. It’s beautifully overwhelming how Yoongi can’t seem to let you go, because you’re the one that always loses control. 

This whole time, it’s been you that can’t hold yourself back. 

So now? Being on the other side? You don’t think you ever want him to restrain himself again. 

This time, he moves slow. Sensuously slow, and it would occur to you that he’s finding a very cheeky loophole to your plan if you weren’t so hazy-eyed. 

Whatever Yoongi’s doing, you won’t stop him. 

Your back touches a counter before Yoongi cages you in, and your lips mold together as perfectly as his body does with yours. Your unhurried strokes match his, and your minds communicate without a single word. 

There’s yearning still ever present. But there’s comfort in abundance, and a whole new level of need. 

After he pulls away, you can visibly see him drink you in from head to toe. 

“You know.. I’m good holding off on all the other shit.” Pulling you in, his lips curve as he confidently declares, “But I’m never gonna stop kissing you.” 

His hands, his lips, his words. They all have healing powers, you’re so sure of it. If Yoongi hasn’t yet realized his unending pain has blossomed into a safe haven, you need to let him know no matter what, 

“Good.”

There’s still a pining in his eyes, but he lets you free, hand skirting your hip before he walks to his room. “Gonna change then I’ll help.” 

“You don’t have to, baby,” you say as you struggle to catch your breath. “I got it.” 

Three minutes later, he’s chopping an onion anyway. 

But you’re loving how serene everything feels with the two of you prepping and dicing, thumps of knives on wood intertwining in sound before you laugh at his crying over the pesky vegetable. Maybe if he wore contacts instead of specs, he’d be better off. 

Not that his choice of eyewear is what you’re complaining about. But those glasses paired with the cream tees he’s been wearing? There will be hell to pay as soon as you get a chance at revenge. 

Your pot is set to boil for a bit, so you finally rest against the counter and start a timer on his microwave. “Go ahead,” you gesture to your very handsome cooking partner. “You can sit now.”

“Huh? We’re not done yet.”

“Oh.” Blinking, you tilt your head in confusion because you could’ve sworn you heard him yawn a couple times. “You aren’t tired?”

“I am,” he says before squeezing his eyes, rapid blinks to follow. “But I’m fine here.”

You toss and turn the food around, sprinkling a little more seasoning and hearing the bubbles and fizzes. When you stir a little more, a sudden thought occurs, halting your movements and spinning you around, 

“Are you staying there to watch my ass.”

Yoongi’s slow smile gives everything away, but he also makes up for the blatant staring. 

“Can’t deny that’s one of the things.” Pushing off the sink, he stands right next to you, slotting a hand behind your neck and angling you for a kiss. “But I meant it earlier. I just…”

You’re completely silent as you watch him slide his eyes from your face to the sizzling food. Whatever he’s thinking about, you’re gonna give him all the room to talk. 

“Just like being where you are.” 

How you went from almost running out of his door to here, you aren’t quite sure. But you’re grateful for that split second of him deciding to fight for the two of you instead of against, because you really were going to leave. 

And you may have taken much, much longer to even try going back. 

Your voice is barely heard over the aromatic smell and fizzle, “Good thing I like having you around.” When he smiles again, you let out a breath of a giggle, going back to shuffling the pan around and tilting your head to the fridge. “I put some fruit in there if you wanna eat that, too.”

“I’m down.”

“K.”

Your food is ready soon enough, and the two of you eat while talking about easy topics. Like work and your workplace dynamics, what Yoongi’s team has been working on at the studio. 

At one point, your curiosity about the album release party grows from something he says. “Speaking of. The party’s on Friday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I thought so,” you deflate, setting your bowl down on the table. “Sorry he can’t go.”

“Huh?”

Your body stills. “Wait. Did he not say anything? About his trip being extended?”

So much for nothing in his life being wrong. From the lost look on his face, you may have given him another reason to fold back in on himself. “No.. No, he didn’t.”

Both of you sit in silence. 

This could be nothing. Right? That means your brother is confident he can make it so there’s no point in telling Yoongi he’s gonna miss it. Or maybe he’s not trying hard enough and then not being able to say it to his face? 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I thought he told you.”

“It’s okay.” Clearly it’s not. “Not much to do about it now.”

“Yoongi… What if he knows?” At your own question, you stiffen, curling into a proverbial ball. Fear and the sick backfire of fibbing has your mouth going drier than desert air. “What if he actually knows?”

Setting down his chopsticks, Yoongi looks your way, eyes unreadable behind his specs. “If he did, do you think he’d leave us alone?”

He’s got a point. “Guess not.” 

“Mm.” Flicking his eyes to the window, he adjusts uncomfortably in his chair. “And I dunno if I mentioned this, but.. He thinks I got back with my ex.”

“Fuck, really?” 

“That’s the real reason why he hasn’t been talking to me. Maybe he thinks she’s gonna be there on Friday.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders sag, and sag. Not owning up to your relationship is one thing; Yoongi having to dwell in his previous relationship is another. “Is that… worse?”

“Kinda.” Yoongi’s eyes fall. “Much worse.”

“Shit.” Reaching across wood, you close your hand around his fingers for support. It’s the only thing you can think to do. At least, it’s what you would want if you were in his shoes. “I think you should tell him she won’t be.”

A million seconds later, Yoongi thankfully agrees. “Yeah, I will.”

You feel better. Somewhat. At least a little less nauseous about the possibility of your brother knowing. 

But it still sucks knowing that he’s actively avoiding Yoongi because of an ex he used to have. 

How bad was it back then if this is the case? What exactly happened? Is this why Yoongi went radio silent on you for weeks?

It seems like he doesn’t even wanna talk about her. So you won’t pry just yet, as much as you wanna know every single thing she’s done wrong so you can hound her through every timeline in existence. 

Instead, you talk about a much better subject, 

“We should feed my cat now.”

And you quickly laugh at the saucy glint in Yoongi’s eyes. 

—

—

Everything is set where it needs to be. Sugar’s food and water fill their respective bowls, your shoulder leans into Yoongi’s good side, and his arm rests around your back as he’s propped up by his banged up doorway. 

You remember the first time you saw him lean against the wood like this. Only that time, you were a shell of a girl, waiting with shaky breaths and shaken confidence to hear his response to your inappropriate request. 

Who would’ve thought that you’d be on the same side as him all these months later? In his arms, resting a head on his warm chest? 

When you let out a short chuckle, Yoongi turns to your smile. “Hmm?” 

“Nothing,” you wisp out. “Just thinking about us.” 

His fingers press into your side a fraction more, and you can feel him lift his head again. “Me, too.” 

Umm. 

You can say things like that. He isn’t allowed! 

You’re about to set some one-sided rules before your gift pops out of the bushes a few feet away. 

“My baby!” you quietly call, leaving Yoongi’s side to crouch down. “Come here, love. You hungry?”

She cautiously makes her way over, sniffing your hand when you leave it outstretched. After careful consideration, the little one nudges your palm, letting you glide fingers down her back as she approaches her bowls. 

“You’re so tiny,” you observe with slight pity. “We’ll get you well fed in no time—”

“Hey, Sugar! Oh, is this her? She’s gorgeous, no wonder!”

Huh? Sugar? 

Who else knows the cat’s name already?

Your neck almost strains when you look up to see who’s talking. When you notice an older lady donning a really comfy, fluffy robe, you feel like it looks super familiar before you stand. 

“Hi,” you greet before introducing yourself, extending your hand and shaking the woman’s soft, delicate fingers. “Sorry if we were too loud.”

“Call me Miss Dion. And you weren’t too loud this time, sweetie,” she says with a wink, glancing down at the kitty eating what you laid out. “Was just comin’ out to water my plants so it’s good to see you’re here, too. Looks like he finally got some sense back in that head of his.”

“I’m standing right here, you know.”

“Oh, I know!”

Back? How long has she known about you? Do her and Yoongi actually converse regularly? Their banter is… Really adorable. 

It’s making you fall even more in love with the man biting his cheek in amusement. 

Wait. 

Is Yoongi Sugar? 

That is so fucking cute you could cry. 

“I’m back to take care of this guy,” you explain with a head tilt. “And the little one, of course.” 

It’s when you say this that Miss Dion notices the bandages on Yoongi’s face, concern pushing down her brows. “What happened to you, young man?”

“Nothing to worry about.” 

“You sure? I got some ointment in my kitchen somewhere—”

“It’s all good—”

“We’ll take it,” you cut him off, not looking but feeling his stare on your face. “How much do we owe you?” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” With a snuff at Yoongi and a smile your way, Miss Dion heads inside to fetch a bottle.

In the meantime, you give your lover a quiet stare before bending down to run your hands over soft fur. 

“Papa Sugar is gonna need that so he can’t argue,” you coo to your cat, cheekily ignoring Yoongi’s sputtering puff of air above your head.

“Papa Sugar? Really?”

You glance up to his smile with a mischievous one of your own. “What, you wanna be Sugar Daddy instead?”

The swirl in your belly is instant. Because Yoongi can only look out into the distance, biting his lip and failing to hide his grin.

Sigh. If only he didn’t have those injuries across his face. You’d push him back into the door and slam it shut if it was any other day. 

Patience, patience, patience. 

Those hits aren’t gonna heal with just one round of gauze. 

When you have to replace the cotton patches, at least you’ll have something to help. 

—

—

It’s not until you’re about to tuck in for the night that Yoongi approaches your side of the bed. Judging by the headphones slung around his neck, he’s about to work, so you assume he’s just coming to give you a kiss goodnight. 

But after he does exactly that, he asks you a question that warms your chest, 

“Where’s your keys.” 

“In there,” you motion to the nearest wall, bag propped right under his windowsill. “Inside pocket, I think.” 

Yoongi bends with a prolonged grunt, slowly rummaging until he finds your jangling keyring with its charms. When he grabs it, he silently sits on the edge up against your stomach, body heat permeating your tee while he fiddles with the clasps. 

God, you’re so in trouble. You know exactly what he’s doing. 

Unlike the last time he offered you complete access to his place, this time he didn’t even hesitate. And the way he secures a key amongst the loop, it’s his silent way of cementing permanence. 

That’s not another key for you to borrow.

Because that key is yours.

—

—

continued in angel, pt. 2

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a/n: holy crap we're doing it we are actually back in the main storyline?! how do we feel right now because i am over the damn moon diving into this story again. here's a slight pitstop before you make your way over to part two (THE CONTINUATION IS IN A REBLOG!) so take a breather before heading into the resttttttt ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

a/n 2: we did this for 3tanfugue and the energy was great! just like last time, some of you guys suggested that we have post goals to encourage interaction. no one voted against it yet, so we'll keep it goin!