Apobangpo

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

pitstop inbox before pt2!! | join the server!

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!

“My little vampy seems so needy,” Jimin speaks into the crook of your neck. He squeezes your hips and presses his face into your skin with a bit more force, the closeness of his body forcing you to step back until you are caught between him and the wall. 

You feel his front teeth graze your shivering skin in a smirk as he teases you. 

“Does she want daddy to help her?” 

“Oh my god, Park Jimin, do not call yourself that.” 

“Call myself what?” 

He lifts his face from your neck long enough to stare at you with large, sparkling eyes partially obscured by his bangs. As much as you loved his pink hair, and the soft blonde it had faded into, Jimin’s naturally dark hair does something to you. The color brights out the gleam in his eyes. 

Right now, you’re more focused on his tongue circling his lips - plump, perfect lips that fall into an O-shaped pout while his eyebrows furrow together. You narrow your eyes, but Jimin only grins. You know he isn’t innocent, and he knows you don’t have it in you to punish him for being bad. 

And he does love to be bad. 

“You know what,” you say with a loud huff. “And you’re not allowed to call me little vampy anymore.” Despite your harsh tone, you gather Jimin’s shirt into your fists and pull him against you. 

“Oh really? You don’t like it?” 

“You know I don’t.” 

“I think you do.” 

“Park Jimin.”

“So many rules…” 

A bit of guilt nips at your heart, but Jimin’s mouth is wet against your collarbone, and his fingers lower to unbutton your jeans. You’re sure he didn’t mean anything by what he said, but you feel anxious anyway. 

“I didn’t.” 

You tilt your head slightly, confusion replacing the anxiety - if only for a moment. 

“I didn’t mean anything by what I said,” he confirms, and his lips capture yours before you can scold him for reading your mind.

Jungkook had never been able to do that - read your mind. Sure, you and your ex-boyfriend could once sense each other’s emotions, and Jungkook even had hypnotic-like power over you. It’s not unusual, just the mental and emotional bond vampires form when they feed off each other. 

The moment you sired Jimin, the bond with Jungkook was severed for good. This new sire bond with your boyfriend is so, so different, though.

For starters, he can read your mind. 

That’s one of the rules - no reading your mind without your permission. 

Jimin says it’s hard, though. Little whispers of your thoughts flit through his head, and he has trouble stopping them, especially when you’re upset. 

Like now. With all the rules. You can’t help it. Being a new vampire means Jimin has to learn the rules of how to exist in the world in a new way. Even you’re trying to figure shit out for the first time; you’d been born a vampire. So all of this is new for you, too. 

Your thoughts are distracted by the moan you instinctually growl from the back of your throat when Jimin slides his hand inside your underwear. You rest your face against his chest and continue to squeeze his shirt in your fists. His fingers are cold; of course, they are. You’ve yet to get used to this new body temperature, although he didn’t feel as cold to you as he will feel toward a human. Your cool temperatures seem to balance out well. 

You gently press your lips against his skin to kiss and suck his collarbone. Your head falls back against the wall Jimin has you shoved against when you feel his knee spread your legs apart further so he can pump his fingers into you more forcefully. Even from the beginning, Jimin knew how to find the spot that would have you shaking in his hand. 

“Fuck,” Jimin moans against your lips. He tries stealing a kiss, but he can’t bring himself to capture your lips with his when every ragged breath stumbles out of his mouth in a moan. 

One particularly rough thrust against your front wall made you sob, and Jimin’s legs nearly gave out. 

“Are you okay, baby?” You frown, grasping his sides to help hold him up. 

There’s no surprise that he is affected by the moment; Jimin is the type to get turned on by pleasuring his partner. He can’t understand how some guys don’t get hard from touching or going down on their partners. The first time Jimin ate you out, he’d been convinced he could cum just from doing that. 

Jimin has his eyes closed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, making his fangs poke out. He takes a shaky breath before opening those deep, caramel-red eyes to you. 

“I can feel it,” he croaks out. “I feel you… It goes straight to my fucking dick, fuck. It feels so good. It’s so much.” 

“Ohh.” 

It’s the sire bond. Somehow, stronger than Jungkook’s once was. No wonder Jimin can’t stand on his own if he’s feeling both his pleasure and yours. 

Removing his hand from your pants, Jimin hooks his arms around your thighs to hoist you up. How many times has he carried you into his bedroom? Ever since the two of you had gotten back together, Jimin was shoving you onto his bed, or your bed, or the couch, or the floor, or the kitchen table, or or or or… Every night. And sometimes in the mornings. And sometimes multiple times during the day. It seemed Jimin was determined to make up for all the lost time. 

This time is different, though. 

This time, Jimin throws you onto his bed and rips your clothes off with the new strength he has yet to learn to control. The button on your jeans pops off and skids across the wood floors as Jimin rips your pants down. 

You flinch when you hear fabric tear. Jimin’s sucking dark hickeys onto your neck, hickeys that are possible to see because you’ve recently fed. 

You can’t see how your shredded shirt falls off of you. You just feel his nails drag down your sides until he reaches your underwear. Then, hooking his fingers in the waistband, Jimin rips the flimsy lace off you. 

The little bitch. You’d braved Victoria’s Secret with Nikki by your side and bought all that stupid lingerie specifically for him. Shoved your ass into too-small panties and thongs and wore bras that pushed your tits too high up your chest, and for what? For him to rip it all to shreds without even stopping to admire it! 

“Park Jimin!” 

He lifts his head, and you stare into eyes so black it’s impossible to see his pupils. They’re glazed over and shiny as though they’re made of glass. His bangs fall against his forehead, getting in the way of his eyes. 

“Yes, princess?” The deepness of his voice makes you shiver. There’s a gravelly edge to it that made him sound inhuman. 

“Lingerie is expensive.” 

Your boyfriend blinks a few times as though he’s struggling to break through the haze of lust that hits him doubly as hard. 

“I’ll buy you more.” 

At least you aren’t wearing a bra for him to destroy. Your underwear is gone forever, though. Ripped up with the rest of your clothes littering Jimin’s bedroom. There is little time to think about how much money he’d just destroyed before Jimin’s fangs are nipping at your chest, scattering small puncture wounds across your skin. 

It’s good, so good, you find yourself on the verge of tears, chants of more, please, Jimin, more as cool touches brush down your arms, cold fingers press into the curve of your waist. Each puncture of fangs pumping searing venom into your veins. 

Vampire blood is dead blood. It provides very little nutritional value, but the emotional bond it creates between a vampire and their sire is worth more than the need to satisfy any hunger. 

More, so good, baby, just-just take. 

Jimin’s hands quickly remove his clothes while his mouth stays occupied. He leans forward to suck on the dribbles of blood that drip down your tits. Each open-mouth kiss makes your body shiver uncontrollably the lower down your torso Jimin plants them. You moan when his tongue, wet with your blood, swirls around your nipple. 

After Jungkook, you’d told yourself you’d never let another vampire drink from you again. The mental connection it caused between two vampires who fed off each other was too dangerous to risk creating with someone else. But you are Jimin’s sire. You slit your wrist to feed him what most humans considered a cursed life, but what Jimin craved more than anything in this world - more than pain and pleasure combined. 

The two of you are mentally, emotionally, and physically linked - for the rest of your undead lives. It doesn’t matter if Jimin gives in to his instincts by tasting you, marking you up so everyone knows you are his. 

You like it. You like letting him run rampant, the wildness of his hunger and the new power raging through his veins unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Born vampires don’t experience the feral stage of a turned fledgling. 

“Ahh, fuck, Ji-” A moan cuts you off. You throw your head back, letting it hang while you attempt to hold yourself up on your elbows, even as Jimin tries to push you onto your back. 

He settles between your legs, his fangs pressing into the deliciously soft skin of your inner thigh. This is the first time he will have sex as a vampire; you’re willing to excuse his animalistic behavior. 

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.” Jimin’s voice cracks, and his fingers tremble when he squeezes your thighs. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t… think I will last. It’s just so much.” He nips the skin of your other thigh in frustration after seeing the smug look on your face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t, ahh, say anything.” 

If you looked down, you’d see that your body is bloodied more than ever. Dark red, nearly black, streaks line your torso, some of the lines starting at your throat and trailing down to your thighs. The inside of your thighs are bruised, and the puncture wounds haven’t healed yet. They’re black holes littering your skin. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you can feel the blood pooling in your belly button. You feel lightheaded, but every touch of his body against yours makes your head explode with pleasure that rolls like liquid down your body. 

It isn’t just that Jimin can feel you. You feel him, too. 

So, when you feel the head of Jimin’s cock circle your clit, you nearly start crying. 

“Jimin,” you sob, fisting the bed sheets so tightly that your inhuman strength causes you to rip holes in them. 

“I know,” Jimin presses his face against the leg he’s propped over his shoulder. He’s gripping your other leg by the back of your thigh, squeezing it almost painfully so he can hold it up and open. “I know.” 

The sweetness of his voice falls in stark contrast with the sting of his nails digging into your skin to hold you in place as he eases his cock into you. 

Your head falls against the bed from the energy you exert as you try not to completely lose yourself in him. Despite dating Jimin for two years, you feel woefully unprepared for how he pounds into you. He relentlessly fucks into you hard enough to leave deep bruises all over your body after the initial ones have already healed from his venom. 

“It’s so good, isn’t it. Shit.” Jimin’s dark bangs obscure his face when he tilts his head to look down where your bodies connect. He isn’t asking you because he wants to know. This is less of a question and more of an agreement because he knows how you feel. He feels how you feel. Each slippery glide of his cock against your walls, the heightened sensations vibrating through your body because of the aphrodisiac effects of his venom. 

You barely register that you haven’t even bitten him, nor has he asked you to.

“Fuck.” 

Jimin presses his hand against your abdomen, obsessed with the bulge his cock creates every time he thrusts into you. The pressure makes you squirm under his touch. 

“You’re close.” 

Again, he doesn’t ask. He knows. 

You whimper a confirmation anyway. 

“I can, ah, ah,” Angelic moans punctuate each thrust. He’s nearly at the point he’s nonverbal; all you can do is try not to rip holes into the mattress and arch your back. “Neck.”

“Please,” you manage to choke out, and he’s leaning forward, nearly breaking you in half to press his tongue against your neck. You flinch when you realize his tongue is warm as he flattens it to slowly press along your throat. 

“Okay, okay, y-yes, I’m going…” 

Jimin brings his fingers to your clit while simultaneously sinking his fangs into your neck again. The conflicting sensations are nearly too much for your body to handle. Your pussy constricts around Jimin’s cock as you scream your orgasm out of you. Jimin comes the moment you do, so overcome with the power of your simultaneous orgasms, he collapses with dead weight on your body. It hurts how he falls, but you’re barely clinging to consciousness when he does. 

“Jimin.” 

Your voice is just as weak as your body, and you feel yourself slowly letting go of whatever was holding your head above water. 

When you wake up, you first notice the overwhelming scent of lavender. The t-shirt hanging off your shoulders is soft, and you snuggle back into the covers once you realize your body is clean. The bed sheets are, too, freshly washed, just like your hair and body. Two years ago, you would have been ashamed to pass out and leave someone else to deal with you - to clean, dress, and take care of you. 

Now you smile with the knowledge that someone in the world treasures you despite the monster you could be. Fuck, someone who became the same monster you could be. For you and no other reason. 

“Princess?” 

“You know I fucking hate when you call me that.” The blunt response is said with a smile. 

You open your eyes once more. The bright light filtering through the window’s blinds tells you you fell asleep late into the day. 

Jimin presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s also dressed in comfy, clean clothes - a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. The ends of his hair are still wet from the shower he likely just took. It explains how overwhelming all the lavender is - lavender detergent, hair products, and lotion. Lavender is the smell of home now. 

When you tilt your head up to look at him, you wince at the soreness in your neck. 

“Sorry,” Jimin apologizes sheepishly. “I think I went a little too hard last night.” 

You laugh as you press your hand against the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. You force your tongues into a fight for control, humming into his mouth as you taste the blood he must have just drank for lunch. 

“You never asked me to bite you,” you mumble against his lips. He tries nipping at your bottom lip with his blunt teeth, playful and nothing more. 

“It was nice to… be the other person doing it.” Jimin seems shy as he admits this; it’s not a feeling you’re used to seeing from him. 

“Most sires don’t let their baby vamps bite them,” you muse. 

“I’m not a baby,” Jimin whines. He pushes you over, pouncing onto you once your back hits the bed. “I just like it, okay? It makes me feel close to you.” He runs his nose along your jaw. 

You get it, though. Even if it’s unwanted, there’s a power dynamic that goes into biting. It’s easy to get high off of, even when you’re not the one with the venom in your dead veins. 

“We should try fangwarming.” 

A deep rumble, almost like a growl, vibrates from Jimin’s throat. The power behind the sound makes you laugh. 

“You’re so predictable, Park Jimin.” 

Jimin presses his smile against your throat. “You love me anyway, though.” 

It’s something you’ve told each other before, but hearing it still feels new and exciting. To know that it’s a love so potent you both were willing to change yourselves - in different but meaningful ways. 

“I love you too. For eternity, even.” You wrap your arms around Jimin’s waist and pull him closer. 

“For eternity.” 

He’s gonna make this work. Because he’s done fighting this shit.

Waking from a dreamless sleep, Yoongi stares at the empty half of his bed, fingers gliding across untouched sheets to seek warmth he knows isn’t there. 

But it will be. Yours will be. Because he’s fucking done with his own bullshit and will now trek the depths of his soul with a purpose redefined. The demons awaiting him have no chance, they have no say. 

Softly grabbing chilled cotton, Yoongi breathes in, the subtle heat of his own rest permeating his cheek for a few moments more. It isn’t until a few slow blinks and a million thoughts of you that he turns over, patting for his phone on the nightstand and immediately clicking the one notification that’s yours. 

Hustler [05:45]: 1 Attachment 

Mm. You sent him the dawn.

He’s gonna give you the world. 

For a long stretch of time, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is stare at the way the sky blooms in pastel hues, admiring the framing you captured so perfectly from your front porch. 

Is there anything you aren’t good at? He can’t keep losing to you. 

Flopping back onto his pillow, Yoongi aims his phone upward, eyes still caked with sleep and drowsiness. 

Yoongi [06:13]: 1 Attachment 

Yoongi [06:13]: Mine’s better

The photo’s so dark you might not be able to tell what it is. But you’re smart, so you probably will. 

Fuck, he needs to get up.

Squeezing his eyes once before rubbing out the crust, Yoongi slowly vacates his warmth, grabbing a chain from the nightstand to clip it on.

Everything reminds him of you, even in the quietest and most mundane parts of his day. But the links around his neck are extra special. Because your blatant fascination with his jewelry will never, ever get old.  

If you only knew what else he wants to do with you involving the weight around his neck.

Yoongi’s mouth cracks into a sleepy grin as he heads to his bathroom. That particular fantasy will have to wait until much, much later. 

And unlucky for you, he is more than willing to wait.

He wonders if you know he notices. How he drinks in that sparkle in your eyes, shivers at those fingers you slide along his silver. Even if you never will, it’s fucking adorable either way.

Yoongi goes through his morning routine, and it isn’t until he takes vitamins in the kitchen—a part reinstated into his ritual ever since the mental turnaround—that he hears his phone buzz.

Hustler [06:34]: is that your ceiling?? lmao

Of course. He never doubted you for a second.

A small smile curves before Yoongi drinks another swig of water, holding the glass to his mouth while another message slides though. 

Hustler [06:34]: i wish i was there :((

Fuck.

You will be. You’ll be there much sooner than he originally planned, and the thought makes him anxious and restless in the best ways. 

Yoongi [06:35]: Same

Mm. He can do better than that. 

Yoongi [06:35]: I’d say meet me for lunch but then you’d be gone the rest of the day🤷‍♂️

Pocketing his phone, Yoongi grabs what he needs before heading to the studio. Because there are still projects to work on and things to plan, with a high possibility he won’t even get a lunch to begin with. 

Good problems. Lucky problems. He cannot take any of this for granted. 

Hustler [06:38]: worth it😩 whisk me away 

And there’s no way he can take you for granted anymore, either. 

Yoongi [06:39]: Careful what you wish for 

If he got to see you, he’d be gone the rest of the day, too. Until you scolded him to get back to work, at least. 

The thought pulls out a tiny huff. 

After grabbing his wallet and keys, Yoongi plods to his shoes before the door is cracked open, crisp morning air wrapping around his features. 

He’s not alone. 

-

-

tbc :)

-

LETS GOOO are we excited?? happy? all the things??

a/n: 3tan is coming back to regularly scheduled programming!! got lots and lots to share, and i've been writing. every chance i've gotten! hope you guys are excited for this one and all the scenes that are in it... and.....

He’s gonna make this work. Because he’s done fighting this shit.

Waking from a dreamless sleep, Yoongi stares at the empty half of his bed, fingers gliding across untouched sheets to seek warmth he knows isn’t there. 

But it will be. Yours will be. Because he’s fucking done with his own bullshit and will now trek the depths of his soul with a purpose redefined. The demons awaiting him have no chance, they have no say. 

Softly grabbing chilled cotton, Yoongi breathes in, the subtle heat of his own rest permeating his cheek for a few moments more. It isn’t until a few slow blinks and a million thoughts of you that he turns over, patting for his phone on the nightstand and immediately clicking the one notification that’s yours. 

Hustler [05:45]: 1 Attachment 

Mm. You sent him the dawn.

He’s gonna give you the world. 

For a long stretch of time, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is stare at the way the sky blooms in pastel hues, admiring the framing you captured so perfectly from your front porch. 

Is there anything you aren’t good at? He can’t keep losing to you. 

Flopping back onto his pillow, Yoongi aims his phone upward, eyes still caked with sleep and drowsiness. 

Yoongi [06:13]: 1 Attachment 

Yoongi [06:13]: Mine’s better

The photo’s so dark you might not be able to tell what it is. But you’re smart, so you probably will. 

Fuck, he needs to get up.

Squeezing his eyes once before rubbing out the crust, Yoongi slowly vacates his warmth, grabbing a chain from the nightstand to clip it on.

Everything reminds him of you, even in the quietest and most mundane parts of his day. But the links around his neck are extra special. Because your blatant fascination with his jewelry will never, ever get old.  

If you only knew what else he wants to do with you involving the weight around his neck.

Yoongi’s mouth cracks into a sleepy grin as he heads to his bathroom. That particular fantasy will have to wait until much, much later. 

And unlucky for you, he is more than willing to wait.

He wonders if you know he notices. How he drinks in that sparkle in your eyes, shivers at those fingers you slide along his silver. Even if you never will, it’s fucking adorable either way.

Yoongi goes through his morning routine, and it isn’t until he takes vitamins in the kitchen—a part reinstated into his ritual ever since the mental turnaround—that he hears his phone buzz.

Hustler [06:34]: is that your ceiling?? lmao

Of course. He never doubted you for a second.

A small smile curves before Yoongi drinks another swig of water, holding the glass to his mouth while another message slides though. 

Hustler [06:34]: i wish i was there :((

Fuck.

You will be. You’ll be there much sooner than he originally planned, and the thought makes him anxious and restless in the best ways. 

Yoongi [06:35]: Same

Mm. He can do better than that. 

Yoongi [06:35]: I’d say meet me for lunch but then you’d be gone the rest of the day🤷‍♂️

Pocketing his phone, Yoongi grabs what he needs before heading to the studio. Because there are still projects to work on and things to plan, with a high possibility he won’t even get a lunch to begin with. 

Good problems. Lucky problems. He cannot take any of this for granted. 

Hustler [06:38]: worth it😩 whisk me away 

And there’s no way he can take you for granted anymore, either. 

Yoongi [06:39]: Careful what you wish for 

If he got to see you, he’d be gone the rest of the day, too. Until you scolded him to get back to work, at least. 

The thought pulls out a tiny huff. 

After grabbing his wallet and keys, Yoongi plods to his shoes before the door is cracked open, crisp morning air wrapping around his features. 

He’s not alone. 

-

-

tbc :)

-

LETS GOOO are we excited?? happy? all the things??

a/n: 3tan is coming back to regularly scheduled programming!! got lots and lots to share, and i've been writing. every chance i've gotten! hope you guys are excited for this one and all the scenes that are in it... and.....

𓆩𓆪 Jungkook 𓆩𓆪

Jungkook is in the gym, preparing a protein shake. He looks forward to today’s workout. He will do chest. His favourite. He already has the music running and is in a good mood.

Someone taps his shoulder and so he turns around.

“Hey honey”, he greets you with a smile and a kiss to your cheek.

“Hold still for a moment”, you say, grabbing his chin.

“Oh? Okay”, he chuckles, ogling the cloth you wipe across his mouth vigorously. He wonders if he got protein powder on himself. 

“There we go, perfect.” 

“Thank you. Did I have protein powder on me?” 

“Oh no, not at all. I just made sure to clean my seat for later.”

“Ah, okay. Thank- wait what?!” His voice echoes through the gym. His eyes are as big as saucers.

You snicker, fleeing the scene. 

“Wait, ___ wait. What did you mean by that?” 

He stumbles after you and catches up by the door, squeezing in between so you can’t run. He is pacing from one foot to the other, eyes glazed over.

“Did you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” 

“Are you gonna sit on me later?” 

You nod your head nonchalantly. 

Jungkook whimpers, knees buckling and gaze turning into the most devoted puppy eyes.

“___”, he chokes out, taking your hands to sway them. “Please stay a-and do it now, please.”

Of course he would beg. He is such a natural at it.

𓆩𓆪 Hoseok 𓆩𓆪

Hoseok dries his hands after wiping down the kitchen.

“Thanks for cooking again, it was amazing. Are you gonna stay the night or should I drive you home?” he asks you and turns.

You closed the distance, staring at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Mhm.”

“Are you mad at me? I can’t read the situation.”

“Stay still for a moment.”

He obeys, even holding his breath. He releases it when you begin to wipe at his mouth with a wet kitchen towel.

“Shit, did I get sauce on my face?” 

“Just hold still, I’m almost done.” 

Hoseok never noticed how nicely your eyelashes curl and how you scrunch your nose when you concentrate. He places his hands on your waist, savouring the seconds.

“There we go, all done.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to.”

“No worries, gotta make sure that my seat for later is clean, yeah?”

“Hah, yeah”, he chuckles. A second of processing then he does a quadruple take, making you chuckle. “You- wha- huh? Wow, okay.”

“You should see your face, Hobi”, you snicker.

Hoseok pulls you against him, knocking the giggles out of you. His eyes gleam playfully, his grip is possessive and travels to your ass.

“If you’re cleaning your seat, do it properly and clean all of them”, he rasps, guiding your hand down to the hem of his pants.

You gulp, body weakening. You understand the insinuations. His face won’t be the only thing you will be sitting on later. 

“And make sure to be thorough, babygirl”, he whispers darkly, stealing a kiss before you can think of what to say.

You should have known that winning a flirting war against Hoseok is impossible. 

𓆩𓆪 Taehyung 𓆩𓆪

The painting has been taking Taehyung’s attention all day. Your presence in his atelier goes unnoticed until you are right beside him and your sweet scent tickles his nose.

He looks at you, eyes softening.

“My sweetest, what brings you here?” he asks, placing the brush aside.

“I just need to. For a moment”, you say, tilting his head up to wipe his mouth.

He closes his eyes, smiling fondly.

“Did I get paint all over myself again?”

“Just hold still, I’m almost done.”

“What would I do without you, my darling”, he says, caressing your hips gently. His life is so much brighter ever since you came into it.

“Mhm and there we go, all done.”

“Thank you.” He places gentle kisses on your stomach, scratching your back. Afterwards he rests his chin against you, gazing up at you. “Will you stay with me for a while? Pay me company?” 

“I can’t. I just came here to make sure that my seat for later is clean.”

“I see, where are you- wait a minute. Excuse me? What did you just say?”

You snicker, wanting to flee the scene of your crime but Taehyung is stronger, holding you back.

“Wait. Tae.”

“Darling”, he growls playfully, grinning from ear to ear. He stands up, lifting you off your feet.

“Ah! Hey, what are you doing?”

“Forget the painting.” He swipes the dresser clean and sits you atop of it, kissing your neck and shoulders.

“Shit, Tae…” his touch is like fire, melting away the icy restraints you wanted to possess.

“Are you certain?” he makes sure.

“Tae, this was supposed to be a silly flirt. I was meant to flee the scene.”

“Then you were unsuccessful, now kiss me and let me have you”, he pleads, grinding his hips into you.

“Ah, Tae…”

Of course he could never wait for you. When it comes to you, Taehyung is greedy.

𓆩𓆪 Namjoon 𓆩𓆪

Namjoon sits by the table, writing poetry. The sunlight this morning inspired him. The thoughts and sentences leave him easily.

You pull out the chair next to him and lean closer. He turns his head at the feeling of cloth against his lips.

“Yes?”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be quick.”

Namjoon hums, averting his eyes back to the pages. He does not want to lose his flow. Your presence only inspires him.

“There we go, all done.”

“Thank you”, he says without looking up or asking for clarification. You must have had your reasons to clean him.

“Of course. At least one of us needs to make sure that my seat for later is clean”, you say nonchalantly.

The pen shoots across the paper harshly, leaving behind a thick line of ink. His long, slender fingers twitch on the table.

“What did you just say?” His voice sunk at least two octaves.

You snicker and turn to flee. Namjoon shoots up and pushes the chair away. It collapses with the ground loudly but you have no time to react to the noise. He grabs your hips, twirling you until you are pressed against the table and his knee is between your legs. The connection is possessive, violent in the most addictive ways, you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.

“Say stuff like this without thinking and learn what this gets you”, he growls, staring you down with half-lidded eyes. His grip borders painful.

“Joon”, you gasp. What happened to his calm demeanour?

“I’m going to fucking devour you”, it sounds like a warning and tastes like a promise. Seconds later he is on his knees, ripping the panties from your body.

“Woah, okay. Holy fuck. Wait. Ah!”

You should have known that someone as starved as him wouldn’t be able to wait.

𓆩𓆪 Jimin 𓆩𓆪

Jimin is comfortable in bed, feeling very positive about drifting off. You join him, bringing a giddy smile to his lips. He feels so safe knowing that you will be with him all night.

“Hey, my pretty”, he lulls, blinking slowly.

“Hey, hold still.” 

Jimin obeys, gazing at you at first until the touch makes his eyelids heavy. He closes them with a sigh, running his hands along your arms.

“You feel so good.”

He doesn’t even question why you wipe him with a tissue. He is here to enjoy the touch, no matter the reason for it.

“Almost done”, you whisper.

“Hm-hm.”

Jimin wishes that this could last forever – the touch, the safety, your adoration. He wishes that you and him would last forever.

“And I’m done. Perfect.” 

Jimin peels his eyes open, smiling sleepily. You retort it, caressing his lips.

“Now my seat for tomorrow is all clean.”

He moans softly, parting his lips. His breath speeds up just a little. eyes clouding over in submission.

“Please”, the beg leaves him as a whisper, his hands cradle your cheeks and pull you down for a kiss. “Don’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Wait. You were supposed to be flustered by this.”

“I can’t. You’re all that I want. All the time”, he sighs and chases your lips, “please let me make you feel good.”

“Oh, Jimin.”

Of course someone as loyal and devoted as him would take your joke seriously. You do not want to correct him.

𓆩𓆪 Seokjin 𓆩𓆪

Seokjin finishes the drink with a sigh, wiping his mouth. He is going to play one more level and then call it a day.

You come up behind him and force his head to rest against your stomach.

“Mhm rough play. I like it, keep going”, he encourages you with a deadpan expression, completely focusing on the game. 

“Don’t mind me, yeah?”

“Mhm.” 

He glances at the cloth at first then looks back at the game.

“I had a drink”, he explains his dirty mouth, naive to your real reasoning.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done.”

Seokjin finishes the level, jumping in victory. 

“Hold. Still”, you warn, pressing his head against your stomach.

“Sorry”, Seokjin slacks in defeat, looking up at you with his big, sparkly eyes. In this position it really brings out just how pathetically devoted he is to you. It’s adorable.

“That’s better. Now I’m all done.” 

“Thank you”, he reaches back and touches your waist, puckering his lips for a kiss. One you eagerly retort. He purrs happily, whining when a second later you break it already.

“Of course. Gotta make sure that my seat for later is clean.”

“Woah!” he turns on the couch. “Sweetheart!”

You snicker, fleeing the scene only to be yanked back by your hand.

“Please”, he says and begins kissing your knuckles, “please, please, please, please, please.”

“What is happening?”

“I’m flirting back. Please, please. Please do it now, please I’ll be a good boy please.”

“Alright, my plan totally failed but that’s so hot”, you say and nod your head.

Seokjin moans gratefully, lifting you over the couch with ease.

“Holy fuck, Jin”, you gasp and gasp again when he begins kissing your neck.

“I’m going crazy, you say the hottest stuff.”

Of course someone as eager to win his price won’t be able to wait.

smut warnings: YOONGI SMUT POV!!!, ch*king, head/hair tugging, reader has a pain kink and yoongi knows it, penetr*tive s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all already know!!

“How do you even call this work? You don’t do shit!”

—

—

When you’re in the eye of a tempest, you don’t see the danger surrounding all sides. You feel the calm. The temporary peace—when really your mind is constantly on the run. 

But from the outside looking in, no one can reach you through the darkness. If they get too close, they risk getting hurt. Swept in the chaos and shut out from where you stand in false hope. 

They’ll scream for you to leave. Beg for you to run. But only you can make that choice once you have the chance to hear them. And why would you? If you don’t see any issue with what’s in front of your eyes? 

They will try, and try, and try. Their voices will run repetitive until distant. Pleas will fall on deafer and deafer ears. Try as they might to step into the rush of fury, they’ll only get pushed away because you can’t deal with the cacophony of disappointment. 

Pretty soon, nobody wants to brave that cyclone. Nobody will come save you from the wrath because all it does is make them burn. 

You’re happy, right? Why can’t they be happy you’re happy where you are? Safe. Comfortable, like you’ve never been before? They don’t see it like you do. They don’t understand what you have. 

Slowly but surely. One by one—even the best one. No one except your storm will be there beside you.

And when it abandons you to drown in the ocean it created?

Only then will you realize all your lifelines are long, long gone.

—

—

The sky is dark again.

From the dips of his sofa, Yoongi awakes to pitch black, watching the ceiling flash sinister grins with lightning white teeth.

Ah. Back to the beginning. 

Not that he’s surprised, of course. Everything always goes back to the way it was. Back to the way it’s supposed to be. Because it’s all he deserves. 

Right? 

When thunder crashes into the night, Yoongi flinches in knots, memories jagged at the edges piercing his head violent. 

You know not to—

—shitty day to—

Seriously?

—knew this would—

Prove it.

—only gonna end up alone. 

—

—

Thunder booms once more.

But Yoongi wakes in a memory.

“Why don’t you just stay?”

He looks to his side, seeing a face that has been with him for more days than anyone else’s lately. 

No one has ever asked him to stay. At least, not during the morning after when there’s not much left to talk about. With everyone else, it’s been a quick one in the nearest bathroom or him bouncing before the sun comes up. 

It’s his fault for sleeping this long. He should’ve at least gotten woken up by—

Thunder cracks outside, catching Yoongi’s attention before he finds himself still hesitating. “You sure?” 

“At least until the storm stops. Then you have to go.” 

A bit of morning attitude does feel nice. And at least he remembers her name. He should, though, since this is the fourth time he’s been over. 

“Uhm.” The only complication is that… Yoongi has a thing. A pretty important thing, since his friends are finally all in town again and planned to spend the day together. He’s surprised his phone isn’t blowing up right now, which is what he expected to be woken up by.

He shifts. Oh. It’s dead. 

Yoongi hears a snort behind him before an arm snakes around his bare torso. “It died a long time ago, you know.”

Interesting. “You didn’t charge it for me?”

Another smug laugh crawls along his spine. “I could’ve.” When the hand on his stomach slithers lower, Yoongi’s body responds on instinct, his eyes closing and his heart bumping just a bit louder. 

And he doesn’t yet know it. 

“But I wanted you all to myself.”

Yoongi turns. “Is that so?”

But this stormy day from years past is significant. 

Lashes bat at him with shimmering lust as he’s lured away from his still-uncharged phone. Away from his plans. Away from his awaiting, concerned as hell friends. “Find out for yourself.”

And Yoongi’s gone before the next groan of thunder ends its roar. “Fuckin’ plan on it.”

It’s not a cleanse. Not a relief.

But an omen. 

—

—

Time passes as he’s thrown back to the present.

But Yoongi doesn’t know how long it’s been. Hours? Days? …Weeks? 

It’s dark again. 

But his phone is alive. Barely there across the room, a light blue screen is all he can make out. Someone could be texting. Or calling. Or whatever else he’s gonna ignore. 

How did it get all the way over there?

Whatever. Not like he cares. He’s not gonna need it for awhile anyway. 

The last thing Yoongi remembers is clutching your words in his hands, but apparently Namjoon and Hoseok found him eerily sick. Practically kicked him out of the studio to force him to get better, not knowing how painfully ironic that would become.

The endless rot coaxed a slow descent into his warring mind, corroding from the inside. Seeping defeat along his veins. 

Pelts pelts pelts against the windows hit him like punches, weakening his resolve to even stay awake. It’s all too much. His brain is too battered and bruised to fight right now. 

So he plummets from the sofa back into the past. 

—

—

“That one looks like you.”

From a ways behind, Yoongi watches his younger self, seeing vibrant hair shaking in a laugh before sweeping his pensive gaze along the hazy, deep orange skyline. 

He remembers this hilltop, benches and trees overlooking the city life below. How can he forget when he passes it every time he goes to practice with the guys? Well, every time he went. He doesn’t think he’s gone anywhere in a minute. 

At least he’s observing this memory from a distance this time. Yoongi assumes this is his mind’s way of coping. Because reliving the memories from his own point of view was too much to bear. 

The air carried a certain hue of pink that day. And his hands can still recall the stickiness of the popsicle he held as stickier lips get caught in another kiss. 

Right. This is where it happened. Where Yoongi fell in love for the first time. 

At least, that’s what it felt like to him. He felt wanted for more than his body, understood on a level that no one else had before. Be it his yearning for companionship or for simply being needed, Yoongi felt something beat in his chest that day, spurning him to embrace new emotions never before experienced. 

But something feels off as he relives it on the sidelines. She says those words so differently than how he remembered before. 

“I love you.” 

Yoongi turns away before he can watch himself react. Because he doesn’t need to witness the light in those eyes, a light that would soon be squashed and smothered to the point of nothingness. 

Because in the end, it wasn’t love he received. Love doesn’t come with terms and conditions that don’t go both ways. Love doesn’t make someone second guess everything they’ve ever said and done. 

Love doesn’t make someone want to end it all. 

But what did he know back then? All he saw was someone making him feel good. Great, most of the time. What he didn’t think about, though, was why they were on the hilltop in the first place. 

Right now, that Yoongi doesn’t know about this girl skipping out on work to hang out with him. He doesn’t remember shirking responsibilities to meet her in her bed, caught in his feelings enough afterwards to blow his friends off yet again. 

How many times did he do that at this point? Were they already annoyed with him? Or was this when they started asking if they’d even get him back?

Sighing deep, Yoongi stuffs both hands in his hoodie as he watches another kiss unfold, grimacing at the way she tries her best to swallow him whole. Months down the line, she accomplishes that. He’ll feel trapped with no way out in no time. 

He needs to get out of this nightmare. The sunlight is fading and so is his control. 

Then he watches himself get up, begging to not get in that car. To not leave. To just run. 

Fuck, he wants to haul himself away with everything in his bones. The fact that he can’t stop any of this from happening is what hurts the most, feeling like he can save himself yet knowing it’s impossible. All he can do is watch. 

As she yanks on his younger arm to haul him back down to the bench, Yoongi flinches where he stands, triggered by all the times he tried to leave his own fucking place just to be guilt-tripped into staying. Every time. So many times so many times so many fucking times. 

Get out of here. Either version, get the fuck out of this timeline and into any other. He’s damn near ready to beg and sacrifice anything with a squeeze of his eyes. 

And when he opens them, Yoongi meets a different orange hue on his speckled ceiling, blinking before turning his head into a pillowcase that smells like… You. 

Thank fuck. 

Wait, how’d he get here? Wasn’t he just on the couch? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. 

Relieved, he burrows a cheek into your lingering presence, inhaling short to preserve the one thing that makes his apartment feel like a home. It’s such a comfort that he feels remorse in his chest, right before something leaks slow from his eye.

Even in your absence, you save him once again. There’s nothing Yoongi won’t give you when he gathers himself again, because you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to something good. 

Guess going back to sleep is not an option. Maybe he’ll finally try to work on some tracks again. 

—

—

A boom of thunder jolts him conscious, and Yoongi winces at the crick in his shoulder before grabbing it in a rub. What the hell? When did he fall asleep? 

Checking his dimmed screen, he squints when the brightness blooms and curses at the many, many, many errant notes displayed on his workspace. Because of fucking course he fell asleep on his keyboard. 

The instrument track is deleted without another thought. 

But after a brief stare, Yoongi undoes the action and goes to the very beginning of the timeline, just to see if he had an idea to start with before descending into a dreamless symphony. 

Nope. Delete.

Failure wisps down his chest before he rubs both eyes. This has got to be the most disjointed he’s ever felt. Yoongi doesn’t even know when he last ate something, much less spoken to somebody or taken a fucking shower. 

Disgusting. He needs to do that last one. It’s the only productive thing he does before falling face first into his bedsheets, wondering when he last washed them before succumbing to sleep again. 

—

—

“Wow, about time you finally brought her!” 

“Ah, yah, he’s back out from hiding!” 

Yoongi can visibly see his hand squeezed with apprehension, and he remembers nails digging into his skin hard enough to crunch his smile. 

Throughout the house, multiple people greet them both as they pass, and even Yoongi shifts as if he isn’t just a ghost of a bystander. 

This party. This night. This very house witnessed the moment when everything started going to absolute shit. 

For once, she agreed to come with him to a party. It wasn’t at Jimin’s, since she never wanted to be there—red flag stupidly ignored—but at another acquaintance’s across town. 

Yoongi was simply relieved, happy to be able to see everyone he cared about in one place. But it soon became harder and harder to hold conversations without being pulled somewhere else, being told to go elsewhere, feeling bad about not making it a good time for her. 

As his younger self follows her to a room upstairs, Yoongi prods his cheek. Because unlike sneaking around with your shy smile, this was to hash out a petty argument about nothing. Nothing. 

But he cared about her so much that he took the harsh statements behind closed doors. He listened as she expressed that she felt ignored the whole night. He hated himself for making her feel that way because that wasn’t his intent at all. 

Poised against the wall just outside the door, Yoongi hangs his head, hearing the same painful words from the other side and sending his past self all the love he didn’t have before. 

And he watches as the same door bursts open, his ex rushing for the stairs and his bright hair bolting after her.

Soon, he’ll chase her down the stairs, calmly try to reason with her but failing miserably. People will stare. People will talk. 

But they’d already be in a car and silently driving away. 

—

—

Another day. Another thunderstorm.

Somehow, Yoongi always ends up in his living room when this happens. Like his bedroom feels too sinister when it rains—unless you’re in there filling it with your sunshine. 

He hopes you still know how beautiful you are. How wonderful, how mesmerizing he finds you, no matter where in space and time he resides. Are you finding ways to be happy? Are you out there conquering whatever you want simply because you can? 

Can he send himself to your dreams instead? 

No. Even in dreams, he doesn’t deserve to see you right now. 

And there’s his same problem again. The shadow standing over him. Whether this is due to his past mistakes, or the darkness in his mind, Yoongi fully believes he isn’t yet worthy of your light. 

Besides. As he feels the guitar standing in its same place, he hears it speaking. Reminding him of all the things he’s done wrong. 

When lightning strikes, Yoongi counts the seconds. And four counts later, he flinches at the boom before blanking again. 

—

—

“Who’s that?”

“No one.” 

“You know not to tell me that. Who is it?” 

Ah. He knows why this memory is still taking up space in his mind. Yoongi takes a spot along the wall of her living room, remembering how clean it was and knowing that’s one of the reasons he liked her in the first place. 

Settled on the spotless couch, his younger self with undyed hair turns his head. “The studio guy I was talking to before. Wants to bring me in so I can see what’s up.” 

She gets up with a pout, “Awhh, does it have to be today?” 

He remembers being excited as hell for this. But no one would be able to tell based on his response, “Uhh, I think so. Is that okay?”

“Umm.. I mean, I guess.” 

Truthfully, there were many reasons Yoongi liked this girl. But there were also warning signs, and he must have ignored them in favor of bliss and companionship. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Walking up to his knees, she starts to mount his lap. And this is when Yoongi softly thumps his head back on the other side of the room. 

“I just wanted to hang out today.” 

“Well.. I practically live here now.” When he watches his younger hands skirt along her legs, no feeling rushes into his veins. It’s all evaporated. There’s nothing where everything used to be. “We can when I get back?”

“You don’t live here officially,” she tuts, slinging arms around his neck and bringing him into her chest. And again, his current self is repulsed. “Are you sure you need to go? What are you even gonna do?” 

She fucking knows what she’s doing. Red flags are everywhere for eyes unblinded by infatuation. 

“It’s not that I need to, but I really fucking want to. It sounds really sick and I think I can work there with them.”

“With who?” 

“The.. Studio guys?” 

This is more painful on the other side. 

Because that boy doesn’t know what’s coming. He doesn’t know the pain that will splay out from his inability to see what’s happening to him. Those arms will tighten and tighten around his neck in due time, suffocating like mad. 

But for now, she agrees to let him go, dismissive of the main reason and having ulterior motives. “Fine, but you’re bringing me back food.” 

“I got us,” he readily agrees. And Yoongi can just feel the rush in his chest. Incredible, considering he recalled zero emotion from her earlier touch. “Just let me know what you want.” 

This is when it hits again. This feeling in his gut is not because of the food they ate when he returned. But from preparing for what’s coming next. 

And he dreads the next time he can’t stay awake anymore. 

—

—

Yoongi eyes the molded tangerines in his bowl.

And his heart walks away before he does. 

—

—

Hail comes down in sheets as Yoongi watches himself haul ass to the apartment corridor. Right behind him, growls and angry yells erupt, “I told you it would be a shitty day to do this.”

“It’s my only day off,” he reiterates, steadying a box with the door as he jingles in the key. “Been busy as fuck lately.”

“At that studio again?” 

Waiting as they bustled inside an empty unit, Yoongi’s jaw locks right up. Right then and there he should’ve walked away from that dangerous precipice, new place be damned. So slippery with condescension. So littered with malice and passive aggression. 

But they both took that step from beyond the bounds of friends with benefits, and with those benefits also came the ones of his doubt. Because Yoongi dealt with the jabs. He could handle those, though he shuns his own naivety of liking instead of loathing them. How did he ever let himself be subtly shot down so many times?

It continued to happen all throughout the day. Even when they both waited out the hailstorm and came out to their cars dented to hell, all he’d really hear were complaints about his hobby—his hobby?—taking up so much time. 

It’s when they’re almost done that she drops a heavy hit, with Yoongi watching them from the hall. “Just think about it, okay? You’re spending all this time and money on it and aren’t really doing anything.”

Maddeningly, it’s hard to really tell someone a hobby is actually your entire life. Especially when you haven’t got anything to show for it other than a couple self-produced tracks and one producer credit on a local, aspiring singer’s album. Man, that guy was an asshole. He needed to learn how to move sessions along even with artists bickering the whole way or else—

“Are you even listening?”

“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbles, adjusting the moving box in his arms that’s holding a deconstructed bar cart. “Work shit again.”

“Seriously? Can you not for like two seconds? I just wanna get everything done with and shower. I feel gross.”

“You aren’t supposed to shower during a—”

“Don’t care! I do not care. Let lightning strike me the fuck down while I scrub my asshole.”

Yoongi snorts as he struggles to open his door once again, noting in the far, far back of his mind that the person with a free hand could’ve held it open but didn’t. That should’ve told him enough. But of course, he gave her everything, including way too many chances to redeem herself. 

As they stumble inside, Yoongi follows, remembering how, despite moving someone in, he felt so… Alone. 

His music equipment gets shoved over for more desk space; his shoe collection stuffed in cramped spaces to make room for smaller kicks; his kitchen groaning with boxes and bins with no organization that was slowly but painfully driving him up and through the nearest wall.

Watching this dreary day play out from a distance, Yoongi observes his younger self with abject misery, sweeping his gaze across a cluttered living room and noting the obvious slump in his shoulders. Shoulders that bore the weight of his brash decision of a relationship. 

What were his friends doing that day? Were they watching a basketball game together? He remembers it was the end of the season, so a lot of them were gathering for watch parties and cook-outs. Get togethers he had turned down for weeks in order to spend time with her. 

If only he had asked himself one question. One question should’ve been enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

If he ever had the chance to tell his younger self not to get hung up on one mistake in his life, he would pick this one. Because this one fuck-up set him back years, and became the first splotch of grey in his shrinking, shrinking universe. One question he could’ve asked himself. One answer he could’ve gotten to immediately. 

Why didn’t anyone help him move her in.

—

—

There’s nothing in the fridge Yoongi can eat. And there’s a severe lack of food in his pantry, even though he remembers it being stocked but not taking any of it out. So for the first time in awhile, he forces himself to go outside for sustenance. 

Yoongi shuts his door before locking it, also noting that very empty bowls lie next to his shoes. 

“Oh! There you are.” 

Who the fuck? Who’s even out at this hour? Sluggish, Yoongi turns, noticing the elder lady next door watering the plants along her welcome mat. What was her name again? He thinks it starts with a vowel. But when he tries to answer with a hello, his voice cracks and dies on his tongue. 

Holy shit, when’s the last time he’s even spoken? 

“You okay, sugar? I haven’t seen or heard you in a long time.” 

Wait. Even the neighbors are getting nosy now? How long has he been away from the world? Attempting speech again, Yoongi swallows before rasping out, “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Don’t lie to me, boy. Where’s that nice girl that’s been coming over?” 

Oh. He thinks that’s a pulse in his chest before he answers, “At her place.” Where you need to stay. Far, far away from him.

“Oh… Well, I hope she comes back over soon.” She sets her watering pail on the windowsill. “You two have the best time when she’s here. Hah! Those laughs I hear when I don’t have my dramas playing.. You two give an old lady hope.” 

…What? Yoongi can’t even form a coherent thought. 

Did… Did you really make his laughs so hard his walls couldn’t contain them? The concept seems so obvious yet so foreign, because he can’t even recall the last time he used muscles in his face to smile. Let alone expel joy. 

Suddenly, he sees rain on a cloudless night. Where is he? He doesn’t even fucking know anymore. 

“I’ll be waiting,” the lady continues, breaking through his haze again. “You look like you’re about to tell me something. But I know you aren’t done with her yet.” 

Closing his mouth, Yoongi blinks before nodding his tired head. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good! And tell her Miss Dion says hello, okay?” 

Yoongi hasn’t spoken to you in awhile now. But he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that. “Yes, ma’am.” 

—

—

This memory doesn’t reveal much other than onyx static. But it morphs and twists until it sprouts edges, and it sends him into shakes. Fuck. This is the night he always dreads. The night that transcends time, showing itself like a specter no matter the time of day. The night he said those three words that have him fucking tethered to his living room corner. 

The night of his twenty-first. 

It happened all those years ago, with only the two of them because she wanted it to be special and waved off his desire to have his friends there. For a milestone that should have been celebrated with whoever he fucking wanted. 

And he remembers being completely fine with the isolation. Because despite all the studio shade, all the music dismissal… She got him a brand new guitar. A real one. Not just some rented instrument he had to keep returning, but a true, beautiful black guitar. 

She got it for him because music was his hobby. His hobby. 

Not his life, not his dream career. But a hobby. The gift was laced with malicious intent and he didn’t see it until months later. When everything was becoming crystal clear and frightening. 

Yoongi wedges himself in the corner so strongly he can actually feel the scrap of his walls, watching with short breaths as his younger, ignorant self takes it from its case with admiration. Breathe. This isn’t real anymore. Fucking breathe. 

He will always hate this memory. He wants it to burn, to break, to shatter into pieces just so he can’t witness it any longer. But it’s always there. Taunting him when he’s close to healing, whipping around his arms when he’s close to feeling okay again. You’ve done every fucking thing you could, but even you aren’t strong enough to fight this one for him. 

Only he can conquer this. And he’s only succeeding in failing. 

Yoongi’s head drops when he hears himself say those three little words again, eyes pinching tight at the reaction he gets back. 

“You got there,” she says through manufactured tears. “I knew this would do it.” 

Get him the fuck where? Hell? The abyss? In the middle of the fucking ocean? 

Hair slides in front of his eyes as he has to hear her cry again, feeling his heart sag knowing he’s tugging her in for a hug. “And I’m there forever,” he mouths along with his past self. 

Her grin is still piercing. Sharp. Striking. “Forever.” 

Get out. Get out, get out, get out. 

Forcing himself out of the nightmare, Yoongi shoots from his bed, unsurprised his head is pulsing hard. 

Fuck this. He’s got to get out of here. Your house. Your bed. Your arms. God, the yearning for any of those claws at his chest and bangs against his ribcage. But the studio is his safest place that doesn’t have you in it. So he hastily grabs his keys, heading to the door to slip on his shoes. 

Aiming an offensive finger at the guitar in the corner. The same one that will be waiting for him when he returns. 

—

—

“You’re seeing someone else.” 

“What? Why would I be?” 

“You were seeing someone when you saw me.” 

Yoongi’s stomach lurches at this particular memory. Because hearing that accusation from her lips crushed his heart and slid it across their apartment floor. “First of all, that’s not what happened.” 

“Looked exactly like how it happened. And you won’t even admit it.” 

If she was willing to be down with that, then she was no better. But why would she ever put herself in the wrong? Her aversion to ownership was something else. 

Yoongi watches from the kitchen this time as she taps her utensils on the table. At least she’s not digging lines in it this time. His words across the wooden surface sound completely unlike her ire, “I said I wasn’t good for her. And I left before we got serious.” 

“Well why aren’t you serious about us now?” 

That was a goddamn stretch and they both knew it. It took everything to not slam on the gas, crashing into the window next to his shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

“You don’t make time for me anymore.” 

Because no matter how upset he got, Yoongi could never find it in him to shout. That was her thing. He vowed to never make it his. Explaining soft, he moves food around his plate. “It’s the only time that studio space is free. And I picked that place because it’s the closest one, like you asked.” 

“You’re so cheap.” Both versions of himself feel the same deep pang. “But whatever. Why aren’t you answering my calls lately?” 

When he watches himself sigh, Yoongi flexes both hands at his sides. “Phones are out when we’re in there.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Are you gonna believe anything that I say?” 

“I’ll believe it when you actually make time.” Every memory seems to be harder to watch than the last. 

“Okay,” his younger self relents, knowing this is how all the arguments end. “I’ll try. But I’m making progress so as soon as I’m done with this mix—” 

She laughs while slamming the utensils down, the dining table screaming in pain. “Of course!” 

“Of course what?” 

“Another excuse, Yoongi,” she grits out, leaning back to fold angry arms. “You don’t even bring that guitar with you, either.” 

“Cus it’s staying here.” 

The way she could slip between the monster and the victim makes him squirm. Her eyes grow wide, brows creasing with a practiced pleading that makes him grimace. “Why? You don’t like it?” 

“I don’t wanna break your gift.” 

“Oh.” 

He holds his hand out, and Yoongi slides his jaw knowing what he does here. Taking her by the hands, the younger him offers a moment of peace, “You really think I’m not in this for real?” 

“It’s more like.. I feel like I’m competing with your job and your.. thing. And losing.” 

His thing. Yoongi loves his thing. He is genuinely enjoying creating and analyzing and experiencing music that he can’t wait to go back. It’s all he can think about when he sleeps, when he wakes. But now he feels bad because he may need to do it less to spend time with her. “I’ll prove it.” 

“Prove what?” 

“That you aren’t.” 

“Okay,” she sighs, gripping his hands. “You better.”

Voices that aren’t his or hers leak into his slumber. And the memory starts to fade into dust on his tongue.

“Let him sleep.” 

“He’s gonna wake up as soon as we start anyway.” 

“Why’d he sleep in here and not the back room?” 

Yoongi slowly opens his eyes, blinking away sleep as blurred shapes come into focus. Mm. He made it to the studio. And he’s definitely on the couch, based on the awkward slant of his back. Lolling his head sideways, he watches all three of his coworkers bustle around the console, flipping on different switches and wincing at the loud hum of the CPU. When Hoseok glances back to see his eyes in squints, he tuts to the others, 

“Ah, see? He’s already awake.” 

“Mmph,” Yoongi grunts out as they all turn, struggling to a sitting position and kneading his eyes. “Don’t wait, I’ll get up now.” 

“When’d you get here?” Jungkook suddenly asks, his bright hair flopping as he pulls off his jacket. “You finally feel better?” 

“Awhile ago,” he sleepily responds, a yawn swallowing his last syllable. “And yeah.” Joints popping at his upward rise, he grimaces while Namjoon cuts through the youngest one’s laughs, 

“I dunno about that, old man. Is it like that every morning?” 

Your favorite nickname for him echoes lovingly through his mind. Like a rush of water to soothe the burn of his terrors. “Pretty much.” 

Hobi can’t help but chuckle with a finger point, the company to his misery. “I’m getting like that, too. It’s only a matter of time for you, Joonie.” 

The tallest in the room sighs before everyone locks into work mode, “Looking forward to it.” 

— 

—

Ah. Back here this time? Looks like his younger self needed him to drop into this one, if only to give him support from another celestial plane. 

“How can you call this work? You don’t do shit!” 

“We’re working on a project—”

“We? Are you even on it?” 

The roll of his chair bumps into the bed frame behind him. “I’m… Making some of the decisions, but—”

“So you aren’t even in charge? What are you gonna get for this?” Not a lot. But his silence answers before he can give a true amount. “Exactly. So ridiculous, you need to get a real job that gives you real money to pay for all this shit.” 

Yoongi was doing just fine when it was just him. But taking care of someone that has a bit more refined taste, too? It’s draining him to the point of alarm. “We can cut our spending, too, you know.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“We don’t have to get food all the time. We can just cook here.” 

“But… Ugh, doing all that work just to eat and then clean?” 

Well. Yes. That’s the order of operations. From his leaned position in his bedroom doorway, Yoongi shakes his head. Even cooking was an issue? He did it all the time when he was alone. It’s not hard. What the hell did he get himself into? How did he not see any of this from the jump? 

“My uncle might be hiring. I can ask him to get you an interview or something, but you cannot fuck it up.” 

“Where at?” 

“Does it matter? It’s a job.” She sighs while sliding hair down her shoulder. Oh, how he’s been tricked by that move too many damn times. “It’s downtown.” 

Fuck. That’s way too far from the studio he’s working at. There’s no way he’d be able to work both… And she knows it. Goddamn. “You really want me to quit?” 

She gives him a look, and he can’t tell if she’s stricken or annoyed at the question. “I mean, not… Really. It’s just…” A sigh. “I’d rather you get a real job now and make music when you’re more stable.” 

Even now, Yoongi gets that. But at the same time, nothing else truly called to him. Music is his real job, the very thought of doing anything else makes him anxious. He doesn’t want to commit to anything that he’ll dread going to every fucking day of his life. But if that’s what she wants, he’ll at least try because he cares about her. Enough to lose a part of himself along the way? Guess so. 

Guess so. 

“Yoongi?” 

His head jolts from the memory as he’s positioned in the middle of a studio. The very current studio that’s only a few doors down from the job he ended up getting years ago. Several pairs of eyes are staring as he takes in his surroundings. Shit, when did he wander off? How did that even happen this time? Why is he looking at a very familiar band he’s listened to for years? 

“You okay, man?” One of them asks, a guy with such a relaxed look that just seeing him makes Yoongi’s shoulders loosen. “It’s just us, no need to be scared or anything.” 

“I dunno, Sammy, you look kinda rough around the edges in person.” 

“Do not?” 

Beside him, Hoseok claps Yoongi on the back, his grip both comforting and telling him to get it the fuck together. “He’s fine! We’ve just been busy, and this guy’s been working hard to get everything ready for you guys.” 

“Give him a sec,” Namjoon agrees, shaking all the band’s hands while Yoongi continues to buffer. “But yeah, we’ll give you a quick look inside and see if it works for you?” 

“Works for us,” Sammy agrees with a smile. “Lead the way.” 

All four members walk through the recording room door after Joon, thanking Jungkook for keeping it open before he heads inside, too. Leaving Yoongi with a very concerned Hobi, who turns to him with furrowed brows. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah,” he finally forces out, throat scratched. Fuck. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“If something’s up, tell us.” Hoseok watches the silent movements and conversations happening through the studio glass. “Your gut’s the one I trust the most.” 

Oh. Wait. That’s not nearly what Yoongi’s got on his mind. Even though he’s snuffed out flaky musicians and artists before today, that isn’t the current issue. That’s not what’s sticking to his mind like a parasite and feeding him random haunts from his past. “Nah, it’s not that. I’m just shocked they’re here.” 

“Right! When Jungkook said it’d be a surprise, he wasn’t kidding. I might damn near faint.” 

“Don’t do that just yet,” Yoongi warns. “We can’t have two of us out of it.” 

They both puff out laughs at his previous blanking. And they fall silent with folded arms when Woosung—Sammy—picks a guitar off the wall for hopeful inspection, nodding and smiling at a doe-eyed Jungkook. 

The kid knows how to develop connections, that’s for sure. He needs to start doing that, too. 

“But seriously…” Yoongi looks at Hoseok, met with a stare that he only gives when wanting nothing but the truth. “Anything bothering you? You looked… I don’t even know.” 

“I’ll be fine, Hob,” he breathes out in a sigh. “Just got some things on my mind.” 

The look keeps going, and going, and going. But there’s no more scrutiny when Hobi finally turns forward with an unconvincing, “Okay.” 

—

—

Embers crackle while sparks float to a darkened sky. Yoongi can still smell the metal of the train tracks, still feel the dirt under his shoes as he tips a bottle for another sip. 

A bunch of them were gathered that night. And he wasn’t gonna miss this no matter what, already expecting the onslaught of terror waiting and pacing the cage he calls his apartment. 

Since he got that job downtown, he’s been trying his best to do the work and head across town to the studio to finish things there. But that effort wasn’t taken pleasantly. Apparently, she wasn’t asking him to make music a hobby; she was telling him to give it up—for now, of course. Always for now. And he ended up leaving it far, far behind. 

After he gave that up, everything else followed. Every time he made plans to hang out, he got yanked back into the apartment, whether by a desperate arm or a scathing, manipulative scowl. His whole life was being stripped away. Nothing was his anymore. 

But this night? He finally got away. And Yoongi watches as his younger self faces the heavens with a wide smile. 

Your brother’s there, along with some friends he hadn’t seen in ages. Even a younger Jungkook tags along, watching as they push each other in abandoned shopping carts and fling random stones in open spaces. All of them in questionable fits, his hair as vibrant as a polarizing ice cream flavor, everything defines this pocket of time and no other. 

Watching them like this? Yoongi almost buckles from the pang of nostalgia seizing his chest, wrapping its roots around his heart in a bittersweet embrace. It reminds him of a balcony. It reminds him of you. 

This is the night he chose to not go home. Because his home is here with his friends.

Fuck everything. Fuck life. Fuck love. It was all he could say and express as all of them stuck middle fingers to the world, as if doing so would banish all the troubles in their lives. Every single conversation he had that night was cynical in a freeing way. Because nothing mattered. They were all infinite. Infinite and infinite. 

With each bottle chucked into a blazing fire, his eyes droop lower to the ground. Without much effort, his head lolls, mirroring a few others around him until they’re a heap of buzzed freedom and youth. And honestly, he doesn’t remember much beyond this. He doesn’t even remember who drove him back to your place. 

They were infinite—

A vacuum sucks Yoongi out of his dream so fast he flinches, muscles seizing and locking at hard angles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening? Focus on something, anything. Is this his room? Okay, he’s in his bed. 

Raking sweaty fingers through his hair, Yoongi closes his eyes, centering himself as he slowly raises to a sitting position. His room. His desk. His television. Even his sheets look fine other than his crumpled side of the bed. What the fuck was that. 

He’s never experienced something like that. Sure, he’s been yanked from a dream while in free fall, or when he’s almost slammed into something. But he wasn’t even doing anything that time except lulling to sleep? So what the fuck was that about? 

Shit. The whole fucking point was to get this shit under control. To fight the memories and the dreams and shove them out of his mind to make room for his own. For yours. Yours and his, his and yours. So why hasn’t he even been trying? 

Panic starts to rush up his throat, clogging it and jamming and amalgamating into something so thick he can’t even breathe. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, get the fuck up. 

He hasn’t had to do this in so long he’s almost embarrassed to reach for what he’s beelining for in his kitchen, perched on top of the fridge behind an unopened case of water bottles. Water bottles. Yoongi clings onto a familiar memory with you yet again. You, you, you. 

The bag crinkles as he rips it open, some wrapped pieces pinging onto linoleum. As he hastily opens one of the candies, he pops the sour coated lifeline on his tongue, slowly closing his eyes and sagging against his refrigerator. 

Shaking, shaking, sour apple, stop fucking shaking. Breathe. In out in out in out in out. Eat another one. Breathe. Silence. Clear head. Sour cherry. Nothingness. 

Breathe. 

Sliding down chilled aluminum, Yoongi feels his ass hit the cold ground, his arms immediately coming up to rest on tired knees. After a minute goes by, he lets more pass. Then another. And another. And another. 

It’s not fun knowing the panic’s back. 

As much as Yoongi wants nothing but your concern crossing kitchen tile, he’s thanking the universe that you haven’t ever seen him like this. Your brother has, but you don’t need to. Ever. But if his demons have all the power again, he might be too far gone.  

—

—

He should feed the cat.

Never mind.

The food from two days ago is still there. Which means she left him a long, long time ago.

—

—

What day is it. Is that the sunset or a new day. 

Doesn’t matter, does it? Even music doesn’t call to him now. 

And that single, damning fact slathers his whole brain in shadow. 

—

— 

A knock sounds at the door. Which Yoongi completely ignores until it erupts into straight banging. 

“Fuck, hold on,” he rasps in a cracked whisper, falling off his couch before his arms crumple, every muscle in his body creaking with lack of use. Pain jolts through his limbs as he lies there for a beat, jump-starting his mind into sudden, bleary awareness. 

What day is it? How did all these bottles get on the floor? How fucking long has it been this time?

More knocks break through the fog of Yoongi’s brain before a voice pierces the door, “I swear to god if you don’t let me in—!”

A sigh escapes in the dark. Jimin. 

Shit, Yoongi doesn’t wanna be seen. Not now. Not when he can’t even recall the past however many hours. But knowing this particular guest, the door will be kicked down if he doesn’t answer soon. 

Hissing, he slowly gets up, stumbling to the door a few steps away before resting shaking fingers on the doorknob. Breathe. Just fucking breathe. 

“Alright, you motherfucker, I’m breaking this fucking door—”

Yoongi cracks it open a tad, a sliver of his unkempt hair and stubbled chin the only things he’s willing to show. His eyes squint as bright light spills into his apartment, but all he can see are the telltale shoes of his best friend. 

“...Yoongi?” 

When he finally looks up, his heart clenches and erupts all the way up to his ducts. The first emotion he’s felt in the sludge of time he’s been chained to his dipping, sagging sofa. 

Because Jimin is staring right at his face. Eyes so rubbed they’re rimmed red. “I thought… I didn’t… No one knows where you are,” he starts, shaking the words out of puffed lips. “And when your phone kept going to voicemail, I—I couldn’t think of anything except coming here so when you weren’t answering the door, I thought—” 

As soon as Jimin breaks, Yoongi slowly closes his eyes and rests his forehead on the door’s edge. Nothing can get him like this other than the tears of a select few. If you had been the one crying at his doorstep, he probably would have given everything up.

But his mouth is so dry he can’t form words, arms so numb he can’t move them to swing the door. There’s dust where his tongue sits, shadows at the edges of his fingers. Anything he tries to say is swallowed, adding to the lump in his scratchy throat. Instead of a tempest of rage, this is the other way to lose control. The subtler, scarier, sinister way to let go. 

Yoongi says nothing. Because he can’t think of anything to say at all.

“Are you listening to me?”

Unmoving, Yoongi breathes, long hair falling onto his paling cheek. He doesn’t even know what month it is. And that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear the next sentence. So Jimin says it again,

“Let me in.”

“Gimme a sec,” he croaks. 

“Now.”

A sigh. Yoongi knows he lost the second he heard Jimin’s voice through wood. So he slowly wills his body to move, stepping—swaying—to the side to let his friend into a dark, blacked out space.

“Holy fuck,” Jimin curses, stepping through a sea of glass bottles before wrenching open the curtains. Light bursts around his silhouette and, for a split second, Yoongi thinks he sees an angel in his living room. 

“Yes. Okay.” With hands on stern hips, Jimin nods to himself before inspecting the litter around his feet. “Yeah, I’m staying here now.”

—

—

“You don’t have to do this,” Yoongi drones while his best friend scuttles around his apartment like a roomba. Clinks of trashed bottles and shifts of trash bags rattle next to the front door, and he sighs before looking out the window. “I’m up now.”

“You don’t get a say in it,” Jimin blithely responds, hauling another groaning trash bag from the kitchen. “And stay there, I’m almost done.” 

“Where the fuck would I go.”

“Anywhere but here?”

Yeah. Right. Where else would he even go right now? Your room is the only place he wants to take residence in—the room in which he said goodbye without knowing when the next hello would be. 

When’s the last time he’s even texted you? Shit, he really has left you behind completely and he feels like a fucking idiot. 

Determination thumps to the door, with a little more force than necessary, though understood. Jimin rarely gets this mad, so when he does, molten emotion rolls off of him in reddened waves, “Couldn’t even fucking call? Text? Do you ever think about what that does to all of us?” 

Yoongi buries a hand in his hair. “Listen, I—”

“Shut the hell up. You don’t get to have excuses this time. Last time this happened you scared me to death and I am not letting it happen again.” 

“You see me. I’m alive. So you can go home.”

Jimin whirls at the door before slamming it behind him, eyes wide in shock as he stomps to the kitchen. “If you think you can get me to go home, you’re an idiot. What else hasn’t been cleaned in a week?”

…A week? Fuck. Maybe it is better if Jimin stays. 

His friend wrings his hands in water before drying them, moving to sit in the chair you usually occupy. Used to occupy. Yoongi’s head sags. 

Jaw ticked, Jimin sits and rests elbows on his knees, brows up in a way that leaves no room for arguments, “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

With a sigh, Yoongi closes his eyes, shifting his own jaw in the hopes he can find enough courage to do this. Because even though Jimin knows most about what happened before, he’s been the one pushing him to move forward, not backward. Which means Yoongi is in for a verbal beatdown. 

But before he can say anything, Jimin urges again, “Start talking.”

Fuck. “Go home.”

“No. Try again.”

It’s back. The anxiety. Making him vacate his seat and slink against his bedroom door. “I’m not doing this right now.”

Jimin rockets out of his chair right after, getting all into his space. “Tough fucking shit. Tell me. Now.”

He can’t. The words won’t come out. “It’s nothing.”

A bubble of caustic laughter flings out of Jimin’s throat before he outright shoves Yoongi against his door. Slight pain erupts from his back, branching out and alerting his body with adrenaline. But he’s so numb he doesn’t even say anything. Nothing. Just… pain. 

“Is that it? Not even gonna say anything?”

Silence. Yoongi can only serve silence. A lighter push at his chest doesn’t do anything either, neither do the grips at his shoulders before he’s shoved against wood. Is this all he has left? Pain? He can’t feel anything else. Why? What’s happening? Why is he so… drained? 

“Yoongi…” The words wobble. So soft now. So pleading. “…What’s wrong?”

Like a burst of shock, that jumpstarts something deep.

A thousand things. Three thousand things. All of them having to do with him and his inability to deem himself worthy of the one thing he wants most. His shameful weight of the past barring him from everything good, and bright, and healing. 

You would ask him the same question. Yoongi knows it in his heart. But here you are, giving him the space he asked for and trusting him with your feelings because that’s just… You. And he has done absolutely nothing to show for it.

A whole week passed and he didn’t know it? He still doesn’t even know what day it is. How long has he kept you in the dark? How long will he keep failing you because this isn’t fair to you at all. You deserve better. 

…Is this when he lets you go?

Dark, painful throbs in his chest let him know he’s barely alive. But if he’s been radio silent with no explanation, who fucking knows what you’re thinking now. About him. About yourself. Fuck, the panic is rushing in again and his breaths are short, short, short—

A hand warms his shoulder, prompting him to look up and notice that blurred, wavering red eyes are staring back at him. 

And the only thing Yoongi feels after that is a hot trail of regret down his cheek. 

“Fucking hell, man—” The pull yanks at Yoongi’s heart as strong arms wrap tight around his shoulders, and he buries searing eyes into his friend’s familiar cologne, drowning it in heaves of sobs that burn his lungs and spread fire into his throat—burning, burning, burning. His heart is on fucking fire. 

But Jimin is there, hugging tight and trying his best to smother the flames, choking on his own sobs and apologizing for anything. Everything. Nonsense, but it’s Jimin all the same. 

“I can’t fucking win,” Yoongi chokes out, finally setting all the fears free. “She’s always here. I can’t… Fuck.”

Jimin grips tighter. “You can,” he says with a rasp. “I promise you can.” 

“How do you know.” He can’t even recognize his own voice. “You don’t know what it was like.” 

Jimin flinches before holding on even tighter. “Because you won’t do it alone this time.”

Yoongi feels a vice clamp his chest.

“I’m… Shit, I’m really sorry for not trying harder before. We all are. We were young, and stupid, and should’ve paid a lot more attention instead of…” His friend sighs to the ground. “Instead of letting her slowly kill you.” 

It’s a gut punch. Reliving all those memories is confirmation enough. 

Jimin chokes out his last vow, and it tugs at Yoongi’s very being. “So. Yeah. I’m not leaving until you know you have someone. Even if it’s just me.” 

Now Yoongi feels like an asshole. All that time, he’s been so lost that he didn’t even think of his friends. The self-deprecation devolved into self-isolation, squeezing him inside a smaller and smaller box until he couldn’t breathe. He owes Jimin more than his life. 

Hands slowly raise, hope and promise lifting them to his friend's shoulders. There’s a million words he can say to this man, but the only thing that comes out is a mere, “Thanks.”

“You’re thanking me now, but. Even if you get annoyed, I’m not leaving.”

A knock comes at the door, and Jimin finally leans away before smiling. “We’re gonna fight this, yeah? You got us. So get used to it.” 

Yoongi nods. But then gives his friend a scowl. “Who the fuck did you invite to my place.”

Is it your brother? Is it you? Fucking hell, Yoongi would give anything for you to be on the other side. 

But Jimin smirks at his reaction. “It’s not her, but I like the look on your face.” 

A glare is shot while his friend walks to open the door. 

While Yoongi’s heart deflates, he still gives a shake of his head when he sees the newcomer. “If you’re both staying, I’m booking a hotel.”

Taehyung stands affronted while Jimin laughs behind his broad shoulders. “Excuse you? I’ve just been sent here to bring food.” 

Are those bags of groceries? Fuck, he already can’t thank them both enough for what they’re doing. His stomach hollows at the thought of food, which is a good sign because that means he’s ready to eat again. 

“Ah ah, tell him what else.” 

Yoongi tilts his head as he goes to help. “What else is there to do here.” 

Jimin already stormed through like an unstoppable force to clean everything and take out the trash. Ironically, the clouds outside seemed to clear when his apartment did. 

Thumps of vegetables and fruit litter his counters before the newest guest smiles soft, “I’m here to update you on what the love of your life has been up to.” 

Yoongi blinks at paper bags before slowly turning to meet his gaze. Long, speechless, and so fucking relieved. 

“But only if you cooperate.”

—

—

You got the job. And he fucking missed the opportunity to congratulate you. 

Neither Jimin nor Tae judge him for needing a moment to himself. 

—

—

This memory is one he hasn’t visited yet. But Yoongi recognizes it immediately, and he steps aside as his younger self bolts from your brother’s room. It was the morning after they all defied the world. And frankly, he doesn’t remember how they got here but knows for a fact he didn’t drive. Following himself into your familiar foyer, he winces at his own freak out, his tousled hair sticking in all directions. 

But both versions of him freeze when he sees you, standing with a spatula in the kitchen he’ll eventually end up kissing you in years later.

This happened right before you left for university, heading to a really good one according to your brother. He didn’t doubt that at all, either. Both of you look so much younger, living completely different lives. 

You barely get out a nervous smile and hello before he quickly comes up to hold your shoulder, noting how softly nice you smell before reassuring, “Hey, he’s fine. But check on him in like an hour.” 

He whizzes away as soon as you ask, “You okay?” 

But he doesn’t have time to explain. You’ll understand. You’re a pretty, smart girl—Wait. Pretty smart girl. Right. 

Yoongi doesn’t know why he looks back, but he remembers seeing you standing in your doorway, watching him open his car door with nothing but concern.

Standing on your porch, his current self remembers that tug in his chest. It was small, but it was there. Regardless, he chalked it up to the anxiety telling him to get home now. So he gives you one more look before shoving into his car and driving off, not knowing he was going backwards that whole time. 

Like a dream, the scene change is abrupt, dumping him in the middle of the fight that happened minutes later. Shards of glass litter the kitchen floor as the bar cart once full of alcohol lies shattered and bleeding potent fumes. 

“You lying mother fucker!” 

“I was helping—” 

“Didn’t even tell me? Didn’t even think to say something?” 

“I was focused on keeping him alive?” Keeping him alive and home safe. Something that your brother had done for him multiple times. He’s with him until the end. End of story. “Are you gonna ask me if I’m okay? Do you even care?” 

Yoongi should’ve recalled that you did. But not right now. He doesn’t think about anything until later. But watching from this side, you were the only one that asked. 

“You’re here, right? That tells me enough.” 

Yoongi stands there. So broken, so distraught. “What if I wasn’t?” 

“Don’t even ask stupid things.” 

“I’m serious. I’d look everywhere for you.” 

She can’t answer. And Yoongi knows exactly why. He loved someone that never loved him back. This is the karma he gets for all the hearts he broke. The people he played with. It’s all rearing its head and kicking him straight in the teeth. 

This was the final straw. He was done feeling like shit in his own home. With one look at the glass pieces at his feet, he loads finality into his tone. “If you can’t answer me, we’re done.” 

“No, babe, please—” 

“Don’t.” 

“…What?” 

“You do this every time.” His younger self’s finally gonna do it. He’s gonna stand up for himself, and Yoongi hates what he’s gonna hear next. “Cut the bullshit.” 

“I’m not, I just—” 

“If you’re gonna answer, answer.” 

“Don’t rush me. You putting this back on me now?” 

“Cool.” He opens the door, signaling for her to leave and never come back. “You’ve already moved or broke a bunch of your shit, so. This should be easy.”  

This is the moment. The singularity that forever sucks him back into the dark.

“Useless piece of shit.” And here it all comes undone. “What a joke. After I bought you all this shit and you don’t even use it.” 

He has. She’s just never paid attention.

“Fucking loser. I gave you the world and you gave nothing. Nothing.”

He gave up everything. 

“It’s sad, really. How you’re only gonna end up alone.” 

That will be true. This is when he decided that, right? To be done with this shit. Done with love. 

“How did I even let you keep me this long?” 

Yoongi stops, his fingers shaking. Him? Keeping her? It’s so twisted that his vision still jangles. He’ll never forget that feeling, being blamed for the exact same thing she had been doing to him the whole time. 

“Forget it. You’re just gonna fuck up until you have no one left. And I can’t wait to see you end up all by yourself.” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond to her wrath, walking to the corner of the room and grabbing the guitar he was gifted. But he’s halted by a pointed finger. 

“Keep that. Cus you’re gonna remember this. You’re gonna realize I’m right and there won’t be a thing you can do to fix it.”

“Are you done actually? Or is this another stunt?” 

“A stunt? The only one that does that is you.”

It’s his turn to unload. And he makes it a point to say everything he needs to. “I don’t do anything. I don’t go anywhere. See anyone. Or whatever the hell you’re accusing me of. I stay here, or go to the studio. That’s it.”

“Some studio you got there. Haven’t even heard one single thing you’ve done this entire time.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Huh?”

Ah. Yoongi remembers this. Right then, he was finally, finally done. “You never asked about anything I’ve worked on once.”

“Well, you never cared to share.” Acid bubbles from her throat, hair tossed back in an unforgiving laugh. “A fuck-up and now a screw-up? Why did I ever think I deserved you in the first place?” 

Yoongi stares for what seems like the final time. And he couldn’t be happier. “Hope you find someone that you do.” 

And the door shuts right as he’s flung from deep sleep, thrown over any perception of reality and taking in the voice at his face. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay—” 

“Give him space—”

Yoongi shudders, breathing ice cold fire and chilled by the air ghosting over his sweaty back. Front. Legs. Fuck, he’s drenched. 

“Yoongi?”

Gulping air, he flicks his eyes between Jimin holding him steady with shaky hands, and Taehyung on the other side of the bed, watching him with eyes locked and one knee making a hard divot in the comforter. 

Shit. This isn’t like the other night he fell asleep in his kitchen. This is a whole other level of frightening.

“Please say something,” Jimin squeaks out, lightly rubbing him on the shoulder and providing much needed warmth. “Anything. Please.”

“Let him breathe, babe,” Tae softly orders, to which Jimin snaps his head at but calms. 

Tae’s right. Breathe. Breathe deeper. It was just a dream, just a memory, just the past. Fuck. Yoongi thought having people over would help. But that was a terrifying reminder that he was wrong yet again. 

Head dumped in his wet hands, he notices his hair’s new length before raking it back. Looking straight at his desk, he takes it all in, quietly reminding himself that it’s filled with equipment. 

That’s it. Nothing else. Just his equipment, his notepads, his writing utensils. No traces of broken keyboards, cracked monitor screens, snapped wires. Nothing except your light touches which he will take any day over what occupied it before. In his whirlwind of thoughts, he wonders if anything else of yours on that desk would look nice—Ah. He’s truly losing his mind. 

“I’m good,” he croaks, startling everyone in the room including himself. “What the hell happened.”

Taehyung answers first, “We heard a lot of noise, so..”

“We checked in and saw you,” Jimin finishes, his eyes holding back multitudes. 

“Saw me what.” 

“Thrashing.” Taehyung holds his gaze unflinching. Because one of them has to be level headed, and Jimin is clutching Yoongi like he’ll sink into the bed. Maybe he would have. 

“It looked painful,” Jimin rasps out, voice sagging with melancholy. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looks Yoongi in the eyes before whispering, “Does this happen a lot?”

“Not in a minute.” And for once, he’s honest about this. “It’s only the second time recently.” 

He thanks every star above that you’ve avoided seeing both. This is exactly why he shunned himself, isn’t it? Until this is dealt with, he doesn’t think he can be with you on a clear conscience. 

Taehyung’s fully sitting on the sheets now, hair looking like he was yanked from a deep sleep, too. “Have you told anyone about it?”

“No.” 

“You should.”

“Maybe.”

“Tae’s right,” Jimin whispers, his expression filled with grey. It’s a look Yoongi decides he doesn’t ever wanna see on that face. “I think you need that, too.”

Something very close to discomfort creeps along Yoongi’s bones, making him shift in his seat. His very moist seat. God, if he doesn’t shower now he’s causing a riot. “Lemme wash first,” he offers, barred from swinging out his legs until Jimin gets up. When he gets to his bathroom, he flips on the switch inside before deciding, “Then I will.”

Tae stays still as Jimin walks up to his side of the bed. The closer side to the bathroom. “You sure you’ll tell us?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi looks down before heading in to shower, saying one more thing as he shuts the door, “But you won’t see me the same after I do.” 

—

—

He tells them everything. All the memories plaguing him for years. The things they don’t know and some of the things they do. While they listen, Jimin’s eyes blink the least, not wanting to miss a single second. 

Taehyung’s hands grip the couch cushions harder with each passing moment. But neither of them judge. Neither of them offer pity. If anything, they’re ready to pick up swords they don’t have to attack someone that doesn’t exist to him anymore. 

Lies. If she didn’t exist to him, none of this would be happening. 

So therein lies Yoongi’s problem. He needs to get rid of anything that still ties him to her, the biggest one being the guitar watching all of them right now. 

“Why didn’t you tell us. Tell me,” Jimin asks through fresh tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I thought about that for a long time.” Yoongi hangs his head between his knees before lifting. “Turns out, I was just.. Ashamed. I dunno.” 

“Does anyone know all of this?” 

Well. “Just one.” He doesn’t have to elaborate for them to know who it is. 

“I didn’t wanna bother anyone with it,” he finally admits. “Didn’t feel like you guys needed to hear how fucked up I am.” 

“Yoongi.” He raises his gaze to meet Jimin’s. “That’s exactly what we want to hear. Because we’re friends.” 

“You’d say the same to us,” Taehyung adds. “And to her. Who, if I’m being completely honest, would lose her shit if she knew.” 

Yoongi doesn’t doubt that. “I know.” 

“No, you don’t. I’m not saying because of the reasons. I’m saying because she would offer to do exactly what we’re doing now.”

Burns sear around his eyes. Because deep down, he fucking knows that. He does. And yet, he still can’t accept how selfless you are when it comes to him. How good, and reckless, and understanding. And a revelation pierces right through his bruised heart. 

He’s lived in his dark for so long that he’s afraid of your light.

Fuck, his admittance scratches every inch of his mouth on the way out. His heart takes collateral damage, seeping out of his eyes, “I think I have to let her go.” 

In an instant, both pairs of eyes gloss over to match his. 

“I’m doing all this for her,” he rasps out. “Everything, for her. But I can’t fucking do it and she deserves someone that isn’t so fucked—” 

“Yoongi—”

“My ex was right. Back then. Now. She was right.” His voice lulls to a dull thrum. “I’ll just end up alone.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” His head snaps to Jimin’s at the same time as Tae’s. “Are you alone right now? Hmm?” 

No. But he doesn’t say a damn thing. 

“I’ll answer for you since you’re being an idiot. No, you’re not.” That’s not the point, but— “And even if we weren’t here? You’re never alone unless you decide that, not some fucked up ex. And the Yoongi I know? Is too smart to do something so stupid.” 

Ouch. But fair. “That’s not what I mean and you know it—”

“So what? You wanna talk about relationships? Let’s talk about the one you’re in—because yes, you’re in one—and how you’re fucking it up because of some bullshit.” 

“Jimin—”

“No, I’m tired of this shit! Why can’t you see what’s in front of you? Why can’t you see all the good shit you do? Why can’t you just be happy—”

“I’m trying all of that for her—”

“You need to do it for yourself!”  

Jimin stands rigid as his words pulse around the room, eyes swimming and unblinking as Taehyung dons a similar look. 

“This isn’t about her. This isn’t about anyone else.” He shudders out a breath. “Right now? You need to get your shit together to pull yourself out.” 

Shit. 

Yoongi completely lost the point along the way. Didn’t he think like that when all this started? When did it all become so muddled? Did part of him always know this, deeper down? And that’s the part of him that he had left behind first? When he tries to speak, he can’t. No words, no thoughts, no sounds escape the desert of his mouth. 

“And you can do it. I’ve seen you do it before,” Jimin whispers. “But now, you have two people—three people—to fight for this time.” 

Ah. But one of those people still doesn’t know the truth. Doesn’t know why Yoongi’s done this to himself in the first place. A sour laugh leaves his lips before he stares at nothing. “He’s trusted me with everything. And I’ve told him nothing.” Lifting his head, he shudders out, “Say I do all this. Once I tell him the truth… I’m losing him. I know it.” 

“You don’t know that.” Jimin sounds very unconvinced. 

“Hah.. Right.” Yoongi sighs. “We all know he’s gonna kill me.” 

“Well.” Taehyung is the one that finally interjects, and Yoongi shifts his gaze before the man correctly and accurately assumes, “You’d die for her anyway. What’s the difference if he knows.” 

Oh. Well, that’s…

There’s a ping of silence before Jimin blurts a puff of amusement. 

Then Yoongi breaks into a smile as Taehyung’s sudden laugh joins the fray, all of them grinning and laughing because it’s all so fucking simple. Really, really fucking simple. And for the first time in weeks, Yoongi feels like things are gonna be okay. 

Coming down from the broken ice, Jimin reiterates the whole point, “You’re not gonna lose her. But you will if sulking is all you’re gonna do.” 

A nod. “I know.” 

“So what are you gonna do?” 

Yoongi looks at them both, then sweeps his gaze around the living room before landing on his coffee table. Warmth fills the divots in his cheeks as he allows himself to grin, not caring if he gets peculiar looks at his first order of business. His highest priority. 

“Gonna move some books.” 

—

—

The loudest roar of thunder signals the end of a storm. And in following that same pattern, the rest of Yoongi’s week goes by dreamless. Calm. Merciful. 

And he cannot thank Jimin enough. 

He helps him when he cooks, drags him out for walks in the afternoon, and even Taehyung drops by to show him a bunch of movies that he is appalled he’s never seen before. 

Yoongi even goes back to the studio on the regular, earning looks of relief and mild annoyance, which he fully expected. But with minimal questions, he throws himself back into work, urging himself to eventually tell them what happened. 

When Taehyung stays over, too, all three of them simply… Talk. About anything and everything, deeper and deeper conversations the more he gets to know them. Yoongi doesn’t talk as much as they do, but he does divulge a lot more about his past than he ever has. Both of the guys present never judge him for any of it, which makes him feel seen. Feel not so alone. 

Because he’s learning that these experiences are universal. The true danger lies in not knowing how to handle them. How to be accepting of those parts of his life when he’s all he’s got.

Now that he’s got his priority straight, he knows he can get there. He can find that door to himself again, no matter how long it takes. Yes, for you. Yes, for his best friend.

But, first and foremost, for himself. 

—

—

To his complete shock, the cat comes back. And in the quiet, radiant night, Yoongi’s eyes gloss over when his heart tells him her name. 

She’s gonna be yours. For getting the gig. The idea itself breathes life into his soul, and he can’t fucking wait to get everything ready for the day he gets to surprise you.

Finally, Yoongi has something to look forward to. Just wait for him. He hopes you can hold out just a tiny, tiny bit longer. 

Filled with joy and excitement, he sends Tae to the store for some food, supplies, and a new set of bowls, barely noticing Jimin watching his detailed orders with a newfound sense of relief. 

—

—

One day, Jimin comes back from work and asks if Yoongi is ready to see people. When he asks why, he talks about his brilliant idea of bringing the parties to him. When Yoongi continues to ask why yet again, it’s to fill his apartment with even more life. Maybe even a certain person will come, too. 

Nah. You probably won’t. 

But if you do? Yoongi won’t be able to contain himself. And just knowing that he’s okay with feeling that way is a step in the right direction. 

—

— 

Three months.

Based on the date on the studio monitor, it’s been three months since he left. Way too long, and the remorse in his stomach is acidic. 

Three months. How many seconds is that? You would know. You’re brilliant and know everything except the dark secrets he can’t tell you yet. 

And it’s the deepset shame lining his bones that won’t allow him to go see you, as much as he fucking wants to. Letting it all out for his friends did lift an astronomical amount from his shoulders, but now he’s embarrassed as hell for taking this long to do something so simple that he’s still unsure. Unsure of when he can show himself to you again and is terrified at how you’ll perceive him. 

But just because he doesn’t know about seeing you. Doesn’t mean he can’t at least talk to you.

And he’ll make that call last the entire night. Jimin and Tae have given him space for a little while now, both of them back in their respective places, so he has the apartment to himself and your voice. If you give him another chance. 

It’s that one solid loophole that has him rushing out of the studio and eager to finally ring you up. The uneasiness is getting beaten out by excitement, pouring over from the news they all received about the album release party. 

Things are finally, finally, finally looking up. He’s feeling better. Not enough to face you, but enough to not feel worse than complete shit. But all of that freshly blossomed energy sweeps into a torrent of worry as soon as he’s greeted with silence on the line. 

“Hello?” 

He can’t blame you for hesitating. Fuck, you’re probably over him and are just answering out of pity. You aren’t saying anything. Shit, he fucked all the way up. 

But your silence isn’t because of anger. Or annoyance. Because you make the smallest, most desperate noise he’s ever heard in his life. 

And the intention to burn the rest of the world shatters every shackle he’s placed on himself, fierce sparks igniting his body to go wherever the fuck you are and deal with anything awaiting his wrath, “Where are you.” 

He’s coming to you no matter what. 

—

—

Is that you? Are all those bags chips? 

Holy fuck, that’s the funniest shit he’s seen in months. 

He’s so fucking in love. 

—

—

He wants this drive to last for hours, if only to maintain this expansion in his chest that lets his lungs breathe. 

Being in the car with you? Your pretty voice singing along to all his favorite songs? This will always be one of his favorite things, long after he’s too old to operate even the slowest vehicle in existence. 

Remembering the mountain of bags in the backseat, he selfishly tuts, “You still have to gimme chips.” And he also selfishly glances over your chest when you reach behind to get a random flavor. Goddamn. You’re still perfect. 

“You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

…Did he just say what he thinks he said? Well. No taking it back now. Especially when it felt like the most natural thing to call you. An oath. A reminder. To himself, more than anyone else. 

It takes you awhile to respond as you open the bag. And Yoongi assumes your comment is to brush off the same sudden shock he still feels, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh before pulling down your dress. Wait, are you cold? “I know you are.” 

He doesn’t know how to take that compliment, reaching into the bag and watching you shiver, wondering why you’re just dealing with the chill. “Why?” 

Yoongi is so thrown off by your reason that he laughs after you say it, “I just… You read.” 

His cheeks strain as he lowers the fans, the music now commanding most of the air space. The way you’re turned away is so cute, and you immediately stop fidgeting with your tiny dress. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table. And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

Did he ever tell you that? He doesn’t remember saying it, so did you just accurately read him again? Who’s the avid reader now? But speaking of those books… You don’t know what he did with them, or why, and that curves his mouth up a tad. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

Perfect. You lead him right where he wanted you to. Proudly telling you why, he says it all through a smirk, “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

“Oh, bullshit!”

You’re tickling him while he’s driving? That’s unfair as fuck! “You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Mm. That sounds like a damn good idea. The visual in his mind is nowhere close to appropriate, and Yoongi’s enjoying your squirm in his passenger seat. Elated you’re back in it in the first place. But you’re almost out of reach again. And he’s dreading the next rolling stop. 

At least he gets to hear your huffs again. Those are his absolute favorites. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

You haven’t changed a bit. Still the same person he left behind, and his heart pangs from the need to do it once again. 

But your quick resistance halts his brain. Screeches it to a stop. Fuck, you’re begging him not to do it and he doesn’t want to do it but it’s the right thing. He’s trying to do the right thing but god, does he want to just veer off the goddamn street. He can’t. He can’t he can’t you can’t— “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

…What? Yoongi stills, mind resetting and going blank. 

Still miss you? He’s never fucking stopped. 

Suddenly, Yoongi abandons any sense of restraint. All control he previously held onto falls away and crumbles to dust. You have his full attention. And you rip his soul to shreds with every word you say,

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t…” The shake of your exhale rattles his eyes. “I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

God, he feels the same. You could both sit in silence and he’d be filled with joy just looking at you. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” 

Shit. 

“I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

Yoongi doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Every brick. Every wall. Every fortress he’s built around his mind crumbles into stardust, shards pinging around his ribs and cutting into his beating, beating, beating heart. 

A day was enough for him to miss you. And these three months have felt like three years. 

There’s no denying it. He fucking needs you. 

Of course. That’s the only reason he sped down here to pick you up and pinned you against his car as if you’d flee. You’re his oxygen, his inhale, his breath of life and hope for new beginnings and goddamn if he lets you go now you’ll never know it—

“Stop.” 

Just tonight. He’ll allow himself one night. Does he deserve it? Probably not, but you sure as fuck do for laying your dying heart in his withered hands. 

And Yoongi decides with a lock of his jaw. Following where his own broken heart points and peeling out into the street.

—

—

Once he gets his hands on you, Yoongi can’t fucking stop. From the car to the walls of his apartment, his fingers can’t decide where to stay, raking down your sides and tugging you close before finally shoving you against his bedroom door. 

God, your touch. Your lips. Your little sounds of pleasure. Why the fuck did he deprive himself of the one person that makes him whole? Yoongi’s so lost in you that he barely remembers his pain, and he loves the way you laugh in the face of it. So fucking hot. 

Closer. He needs to be closer and it’s driving him mad how he’s limited to pressing against your front. Hitching your leg up, he shoves himself forward, the rush of blood tightening his groin and emptying reason from his head. 

This is already too much. You’ve already taken things too far. But goddamn, he’s not stopping even if the entire complex broke down his door. “Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan and he’s a goner again, the next twitch in his pants straining against your soft pelvis. When a plea leaves that pretty mouth, Yoongi’s ready to give you the world. All you have to do is say it and it’s yours and yours alone. “Please what.” 

The tug of his hair makes him groan, but it’s your words that drag his soul across coals, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

What did you fucking say? 

Nah. Yoongi needs to hear that again because he cannot forgive himself if he’s hallucinating all of this, too. Yanking you forward, he strains his ears just to be bombarded by your demands, 

“Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

You’re gonna be the fucking death of him. “The fuck.”

Any hesitance Yoongi had before flings out the door. The whole time he’s trying to do the right thing, here you are spewing everything good and wrong and he’s enraptured. You’re clearly not holding back, so why wouldn’t he match that chaos like his life depended on mania? You give and give and give, and Yoongi makes it his mission to reciprocate. 

Soon, he’s everywhere, swallowing you devouring you inhaling you like his last meal of his last life. Busting into his bedroom, the hot rush of adrenaline magnifies his darkest thoughts. But you don’t even give him the chance to say them out loud because what the fuck he’s in his chair now? “Babe—”

What the fuck? What’s gotten into you and what can he do to suspend this moment in time? You’re sin incarnate at his feet, dropping to your knees and attacking him, undressing him with a force that downright startles him through. 

It borderline scares him because he’s never seen you like this. Shit, he can’t shake an icky feeling off now and he can’t fully immerse himself in the moment if he’s correct. “Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward. And Yoongi lets those sparkling eyes lure him down. 

Fuck, fuck, focus. The way you hold his cock is heavensent and the feeling will never get old and he can’t help but groan at the feel of your fingers. But the feeling is still there. The question is still occupying his mind. 

So Yoongi utilizes every single ounce of control to stop you, saying your name for the first time in weeks. When you shoot him a look of rejection, his heart breaks in two, because your mind is like his when it defaults to the worst possible scenario. 

All he wants to do is kiss you. So he does just that, keeping it tender to calm your potential buzz. Voice soft, he asks through the dark blue of night, “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” 

Ah. He was right. Fuck, if you aren’t lucid enough, this has to stop right now. No matter how fucking bad he wants to tear you apart. 

But you reach out to palm his cheek, as if you knew exactly what he was getting at without asking. “I’m not drunk, baby. I just missed you.” 

Please be telling the truth. He won’t live with himself if you aren’t telling him what’s really going on. 

“I’m not,” you reassure through a smile that he’s missed so fucking much. Once again, Yoongi kisses you, because he can’t bear not feeling those puckered lips on his for another second. How strange it is, being able to breathe best when his mouth is smothered by yours. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

Holy fuck, you can’t do that. You can’t just say shit like that and get away with it. It’s infuriating in the best way and Yoongi will worship this new, unbridled attitude of yours. What an honor to say he knew you had it in you all along. Yoongi never doubted your skyrocketing appeal for a second. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.” You don’t even give him the mercy of a warning. All Yoongi feels next is those angelic, sinful lips around his tip, eyes fluttering shut as his head kicks back in a moan. 

Euphoria. You’re his beginning and end, the middle and the rest. Nothing else in the world can bring him to his knees like this, and he can’t imagine being anywhere except at your feet. He’s in trouble. You’re not going home for a long while. 

Every swirl you make zings light along his limbs, and he opens soul-sucked eyes to you tugging your dress down fuck. 

He tastes himself when you kiss him, the wet of your efforts slathering around his mouth but he doesn’t fucking care. Reaching out, Yoongi smacks at your perfect tits, laughing to himself knowing how lucky he is. “Get the fuck back down there.”

And the smirk you send his way makes him fall in love ten times over. 

Yoongi doesn’t even know where he is. And this time, he counts that as a win. Because your licks and sucks are sending him into space, straight past the stars and into the next galaxy over. When the fuck did you get this good? It’s spurning the competitive side of him that vows to not lose to you even though he perpetually will. “Holy fuck.” 

His back muscles strain between arching and collapsing, the squeak of his chair the choir to your sinful symphony of sounds. Unbelievably hot. He may as well pass away from how good you’re milking him down.

Then he feels the back of your throat and then some. And something ignites in his core that causes his hands to find your head. 

Fuck, your eyes. They’re molten. “So fucking filthy...” 

Your laugh around his cock sends him into another frenzy. “Don’t do that.” 

But you disobey like the good girl you are, unsheathing your mouth just to swallow his balls oh goddamn. “Fuck!”

It’s over. It’s over for him. All you have to do is tell him what you want and he’s shoving the world aside to make it happen. Your insecurities? He’s banishing. Your wants and needs? He’s providing. There’s no one else but you and his chest is heaving with shallow shallow shallow breaths. 

When you let him push you closer, Yoongi groans, tapping that pretty cheek with his length and savoring the way you suck him back in like an addiction. 

He’s addicted to you, too. And after tonight, he doesn’t think he can ever get enough. The withdrawals will hit like no other, and he’ll shake and tweak until the next time he can steal you away. “So perfect… So fucking perfect… There will never be anyone else.” 

Can you even hear him? You’re so goddamn loud. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi praises, thrusting into the heat of your mouth and shivering at the sensation you’re willing to give every time. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re already a beautiful sight around his cock. But when you come up for air, erotic effort dripping from your mouth and sloping down in strings to your bare chest? That’s when you’re mesmerizing. And Yoongi doesn’t dare to look away from your face. 

What the fuck, you’re going in again? Fuck that. You’re gonna make him bust before he gets the chance to ruin you. 

Gathering sweaty hands under your arms, Yoongi yanks you upward, tossing you onto his bed and growling with pride. After he’s through with you? You’ll never doubt where he stands anymore. And quite honestly, he’s damn near scared you’re gonna realize you’re much better than him, in every aspect of your promising life. 

Because you’re radiance personified, laughing up at him as if he never left you in the dark. How he played with your light, Yoongi won’t ever forgive himself. But you already have. And his heart lurches forward to worship you. 

“Take this off,” he commands into your chest. Because he needs it all. Everything, everything, everything. “No more hiding.” 

He helps you with shaking hands as you strip the dress for him, breath ragged with excitement and relief to have you here again. When you question your shoes, Yoongi immediately interrupts, because this is a fantasy he’s had from the fucking jump. “What about my—”

“Don’t.” He grips your pliant thigh. “I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

That’s right. You’re getting all of him—the good, the bad, and all the forbidden thoughts he’s kept locked away. All of it’s now unleashed, unlocked by your ability to finally tell him what you want. 

When Yoongi smacks the side of your ass with a possession he’ll think about hours from now, the sound you make launches him to the edge. And when he wrenches your legs apart, his eyes blow obsidian at the sight between them. 

Yeah. He’s wrecking your shit tonight. And you’ll feel so good he might cry. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you whisper soft, a far cry from your uninhibited demands from earlier. 

But the feeling inside Yoongi’s chest renders him even softer. Because yes, he’s going to. But there’s so much he didn’t get to do, so many things he’s been wanting to give but tore apart every chance. 

You deserve more. A whole lifetime more than what you’re asking for. And Yoongi can only summarize how he feels with a single sentence, “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You don’t truly understand. But that’s okay. All you need to do is sit back and let him cherish you, starting with the smooth skin of your ankle that he brings in for a soft kiss. 

There’s no way to deny anything anymore. Here you are ready to be used, and Yoongi’s taking precious seconds to plant kisses on your leg? Of fucking course he’s too far gone. He’s been too far gone for months. If there’s one way to show you how he feels without words, he’s gonna take it. Because those three syllables are too profound to be said in a mere tryst under moonlight. 

So he pries your legs apart with passion taking the reins, growling out safer thoughts that praise you, “So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and he cups your cunt to shut that shit down. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, now shy and looking more like yourself. It strikes his heart so hard a confession flows right out of his mouth, 

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” Goddamn, that grin. Yoongi has found a new obsession. 

“Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” Perfect. Spill everything from those shining lips, break him down like you did two times tonight already. “Tell me.” 

Yoongi thinks you aren’t gonna do it again. You usually spark like a flare, simmering down after your initial fire then defaulting back to that adorable shyness again. So when you surprise him? All bets are off. Nothing is off limits. 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

And that’s when Yoongi fucking snaps. 

He launches for your throat first, feasting on your succulent skin and forcing you up his bed. When his dick brushes against your soft center, his name expels from your mouth at the same time he groans like mad. “Careful,” he finally sends you a warning about your last demand. Because he needs you to know what’s about to happen in this room. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you hastily respond, gripping his hair just how he likes it. “Wanna stay.”

Stay. He wants nothing but you to do that, too. It’s why he’s wrapping himself around you, latching onto every inch of your skin and grasping at anything he can get his fingers on. 

Of course, reason weasels through his brain again, seeping from his mouth without his permission. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

“Just tonight.” Fuck, you sound deflated already. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” Yoongi tweaks your chest before rolling hard against you, relishing in the feel of your cunt and defying all sense of morals. “Fuck all of that.” 

Kick you out? You’ll learn to never say that again. “Don’t move.”

Yoongi drops to his knees, nudging your legs aside and promising dark and dangerous thoughts against your thigh. Fuck, you smell like heaven. He’s painfully hard and it will take everything in his soul to not come on his bedroom floor. 

What are you flinching for? What did he fucking say? “I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

Patient, he shifts your slick thong sideways, breath heady as his tongue flattens completely against your cunt. And the taste, holy fuck. This is his favorite place and he’ll keep eating until you’re a shuddering, shivering mess on his sheets. The most exquisite mess he’s ever had the pleasure to make. 

A dark chuckle rumbles as you instinctively clamp your legs together. And he will always be willing to punish for that because your little whines in response are his guilty pleasures. “Uh uh.”

You taste so fucking good. All essence pooling from your folds coats his mouth in layer after slick layer, his tongue basking in the warmth of your core and lapping over, and over, and over. Greed is too light a word to describe his thirst, and he sucks at the spot he knows you love until you tremble. 

Gripping his cock with slicked fingers, Yoongi pumps himself slow, moaning as he keeps licking, sucking, penetrating your cunt with his tongue and deciding that’s not enough for him. He wants you losing your goddamn mind because you made him lose his. He wants you thrashing on his sheets and locking those beautiful muscles for hours. 

Your sounds tighten his groin impossibly hard, mingling with the squelches of his feast and the slide of his fingers along his length. Nothing beats this. Nothing will ever compete because you both sound so fucking obscene.  

The neighborhood gets to hear you again, and that thought carves a prideful grin into Yoongi’s features. You’re back, and they’re gonna know it. For as long as he can make you scream. 

When he inserts a finger to join his tongue, the sound you make almost makes him come  oh fuck. Say his name like that again and he will. Days from now, he may even bust off that singular memory alone. 

When you grab at his hair, he knows that’s when you’re close. And it spurns him into his next twisted fantasy that has his stomach fluttering. 

“Yoongi—I’m—” Nope. You’re not getting there yet. And your response curls his mouth into something ominous. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

Unbothered, Yoongi swats your sopping cunt, completely ignoring your cries for release, “What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Such a terrible listener. What a shame he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because every fucking time you speak, he gets to shush you with a wet tap. And every time you decide to be a smart ass, he rewards you with no hope of reaching the edge you so fiercely crave.  

And this goes on for minutes. 

Yoongi has time. In fact, he has all the time in the world when it comes to breaking you down. You’re gonna spiral for him, you’re gonna unwind under his tongue. Because this is what you wanted and he’s nothing but incredibly thorough. 

Your thighs are quivering by the time he’s ready to reward you release, and he kisses them lovingly as you prattle off complete and utter nonsense above his sweaty head. Standing, he roves his gaze over his sheets, satisfied to hell how he’s made you a mess among them. 

And Yoongi is far, far from done with you. Sliding his dick along your folds, he hums, “This is what you wanted, huh. You gonna be a good little slut?” 

That obedience you give sets butterflies free in his chest. Because Yoongi knows you hold all the power here, him nothing but a vessel to carry out your every whim. “Then fucking beg.” 

When his cock pats your pretty pussy, your reaction has him fraying at the seams. So fucking beautiful when you twist like that. He can’t believe you gave him all these chances to see you at your most vulnerable because this is when you can’t hide a single thing from him. Your mouth betrays you in the best ways, your soul speaks to him when your brain can’t find the courage to. 

And Yoongi preens when you shower him with nothing but praise and a sailor’s barrage. His lips find yours after way too long, and when you tug at his shirt his heart pulls taut with it. 

“Please,” you finally beg. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” He does, he does, he does. 

Quickly getting up to grab a condom, Yoongi smirks at the way you keep spouting nothing and everything, as if a dam inside burst with no hope of being stopped. Fully stripping himself, he slips the protection on before finding solace between your twitching legs, kissing you once again because fuck he cannot get enough of you tonight. Ever. No matter what lifetime he meets you in.

When you whisper his name, he takes it in his mouth, and the innate need to have you completely makes a mess of his hands. 

This is what will destroy him every time. This connection with you is what he will remember long after everything else fades away. There will never be another soul that embraces his so fully, and that truth is a belief so deep rooted it’s unshakeable. No matter what branches he cuts off, no matter what decisions he has to make. He will always, always come back to you. 

Because you’re it for him. And he can’t thank his past self enough for walking onto that balcony.

You like it best when he starts slow, especially since it’s been awhile since the last time. When Yoongi knows for a fact you haven’t seen anyone else, either, his heart grows a size, making his breath shudder while he slides further and further inside. 

He’ll wait. As always. But you don’t take long to feel comfortable, your hands lifting up to softly pull at his chains. Yoongi’s shoulders relax as you slide up to hold them for support, and he almost can’t look into those eyes he’s so afraid of.  

Bliss. This is exactly what he’s been fighting for. This is exactly why he’s going to make a much better effort—now, tomorrow, and forever. 

“I’m ready, baby,” you whisper. 

And Yoongi lets himself loose completely. 

Fuck, you feel better than he remembers, wrapping around him just right and pulsing against every ridge. If he could stay inside you every second, he would. There’s only one thing he can think of that would feel better than this, and just imagining that has him vibrating. The warmth enveloping him buckles both arms at your sides, and he crumbles to an elbow to smush his body against yours. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and his eyes blaze and twist at the primal dragon laying claim to you in his chest. Because you’re his, and he’s yours. This is all he ever needed to know. 

“Fuck!”

Fuck, that was too fucking hot. If he doesn’t control himself now he’s spilling inside of you in seconds. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, hissing when he grips your chin once again. “Thank—” 

He’s thrusting inside you too hard you can’t think. But Yoongi doesn’t relent. Because he knows you can fucking take it. He knows how strong and relentless you can be, reckless just for him and pulling those same commitments from his core. 

And you prove him right yet again. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is his unraveling. Watching your eyes roll and your mouth part in release drags him down the shoreline with you, and he can’t fucking save himself because your tugs are too goddamn dominant. Fuck, you’re unbelievable. He will never, ever get enough of you. 

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, smiling lopsided when you remember exactly what he’s referring to. That first night you hustled the shit outta him and left him with a mind so jumbled he didn’t know what to do. God, that was ages ago. He’s not even sure he’s the same person anymore.

But you are. Just a lot more confident. At your core, you’re still the same wonderful woman, and the light in your eyes has not faded even one shade. “Love when you do that,” you admit, and he laughs when you shake your head. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready.” When Yoongi regards you with curiosity, he gets blindsided yet again by your forthcomingness. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Oh. Tonight is his last, it seems. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” Sitting back on his knees, he gathers your pretty ankles in a bunch. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.” It’s his turn to not give you a warning. Because you’re slick enough to handle what’s coming and he’s determined to make you do the same. 

Driving hard and fast, Yoongi unleashes his energy, slamming into your pussy again and again and relishing in the way you mewl and moan and whine. Keep doing that. He wants to hear you. It’s fuel for him to keep going and give you exactly what you want and need. If you felt insecure around him before tonight, he vows to erase all of that worry until it’s wiped from existence. You’re his world. You’re his everything. 

“Feel so good—”

More. More, more, more, he needs fucking more. When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” Raising you up by the arms, Yoongi leads you to the edge of his bed before swiping a firm arm to clear his desk. Knowing what he’s about to do, his cock twitches like mad. 

Fuck, you already look divine facedown on the surface, your legs teetering on those heels and making him grit out a groan. 

He cannot come. Not before living out one of his deepest fantasies. Fucking you on his desk? His workspace where he works on his other love? Yoongi’s already shaking before he even grips your quivering hips, shoving your thong away and letting it rest useless on one side of your perfect ass. Fuck. 

“Yoongi—”

He finds home again in an instant, pushing your bowing spine down when you habitually flinch, “Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with his spank. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and teetering just like you had on your high heels. Just the mere sight of you like this makes him spiral. And Yoongi can’t help but whoosh out a raspy laugh. “Goddamn.” 

He grabs your hands, shoving you even flatter against his desk so he can pin your arms against your slick back. Possessive? Yes. Unsatiable? Even more so. 

Your moans fling out as he doesn’t let up, and Yoongi moans at the way you squeeze and milk his cock—relentless, uncompromising, just how he fucking wants it. 

More. He still wants more? Fuck. “Come here.” He gathers your wrists in one palm before reaching around your chest, hauling you up and pinning you against his body by the throat. It’s so sweaty under his touch, glistening and tempting to be sucked until he mars you with lust. 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His next stroke is intentionally harsh, and those moans will take residence in his mind for years. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

Your weight falls on his arms when he shoves into you again, feet scrambling for solid ground and wobbling your legs into jello. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.” That’s all you get before he jumps into a frenzy, pistoning as fast and as hard as he can possibly manage. When he brings you back down to his desk, Yoongi takes advantage of the position, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting into your heavenly velvet. 

This is exactly what he needed. What you needed. Of course you both yearned for the same blue flame, ripping each other apart and rebuilding each other again. 

You’re close. Yoongi can feel you. So he menacingly decides to prolong your release yet again—

You shove him so fast he can’t react, thumping onto his bed and cackling like mad when you leap onto his frame. Fuck, your eyes are so blown and vicious they set him on fire, and he’s gripping your sloping hips and shoving you against his length before he can fully taunt, “Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

Right. He’s already groaning when you take your throne, regal and royal and showing him exactly why he already has. But when you swing your pelvis and take him even deeper, Yoongi reminds himself that he can always fuck you like he doesn’t. And that’s both of your favorite ways to sin. “Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes squeezing shut in lust. He’s so tight that he might hurt you, so his hands grapple his sheets instead and tense his muscles indefinitely. 

You feel good. Way too fucking good. If you’ve been practicing with those secrets you have in your bedside drawer he can damn well fucking tell. Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips with force. “Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.” You’re extending yourself up his body now, upping his heartbeat until it races to catch up with his feelings. But everything unholy fills him to the brim when you arch your tits to his face. It seems you figured some things out while he was gone. 

A dark chuckle leaves as he suckles on one of your nipples, lolling around and drawing whines right out of your lips. It’s adorable to feel you frozen around his waist, too distracted by his tongue that you can’t multitask both ends. 

It’s okay. He can do that for you. Grabbing the back of your neck, Yoongi thrusts himself up into your heat, marvelling at the way your mouth flops open to say his name. “Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you from the other side, and his eyes engulf in black when yours roll impossibly far back. 

Fuck. He’s not gonna last much longer. But you’re gonna reach bliss a thousand times before he worries about himself. “You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him so hard he hisses out a curse. Shit, shit, his release is right behind yours. The way you tug at his cock proves too much, and he stutters out words of encouragement when spilling out his own release inside latex. But you’re inundating around him even after he comes, and Yoongi selfishly commands you with a rasp, “Again.” 

To his shock, you obey immediately, crying out and arching so far back Yoongi feels himself close again, too. Has he come more than once in awhile? He doesn’t remember the last time that happened, if at all. But he knows it can happen with you. There’s no doubt he can get there with you, because he loves you so fucking much. 

Fuck. Fuck, did he just say that last confession out loud? No. No, he didn’t. There’s no fucking way. 

Sitting up, he waits as you sling arms around him, leaning back and smirking at the way the new angle makes you moan. Confident you can do it a fourth time, he repeats, “Again.” 

Your head shakes before your arms lock around his neck, and one tilt of his hips pushes you over the edge. And god. Damn. This reaction you have to your own body sends Yoongi to a higher plane. He stares in awe as your eyes roll again, drinking in the sight of you and questioning what the hell he’d done to deserve a front row seat.

You’ve both come so far. But Yoongi is more proud of you for finding your sensuality in perfect stride and pace. This is wholly you, losing yourself and baring your soul to him in full. Despite what you’re doing, you radiate such an angelic aura, and Yoongi has pricks at the corners of his eyes. 

He has his guardian angel back. And he would burn the universe without a second thought if it kept you safe and warm. “So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out. “Only you.” 

How you decided to stay with him, Yoongi will never be able to fathom. But you came back effortlessly. You welcomed him back like the promise of a nostalgic summer.  

Lowering you to his sheets, he positions you to where you’re most comfortable. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. It doesn’t take him long to trash, and he makes his way back to the bed to take full advantage of your body heat. 

There’s complete silence now. But for the first time in months, Yoongi’s more than fine with that. Because it’s nothing but comforting, with your occasional nudge against his chest and soft breaths warming his chains. 

Soothing your back with circles, something walks into his brain, and he can’t hold it in any longer as his mouth spreads wide into a grin, “I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

That squeal is so fucking worth the surprise. 

“I knew it!” Yoongi pretends to be annoyed when you figure him all the way out. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

Someday, one day soon, he’s gonna take you shopping for her. You’re going to run through his entire wallet, but Yoongi doesn’t care because he’s gonna be at his happiest picking toys and things out for you. 

He can even buy you storage for some of your clothes, too. 

Maybe that can be your next surprise. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate, and Yoongi watches as you attempt to tower over him. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

Gatekeeped? Is that even a word? A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.” Because she’s definitely going to warm up to you more. He’s gonna take pride in the small amount of time he’s the favorite before being recognized as the lowly food and water boy. 

Something softens in your stare. And he’s wondering what’s floating around in that attractive mind of yours. “You took care of her.”

He did. Because she came back when he was himself again. And if that wasn’t a sign for good things to come, Yoongi will make it one anyway. “She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Your eyes still before you offer a smile that stops his heart. When you lean down to give him a kiss, the same organ beats in double time when you plant love on his forehead right after. 

Oh. That was… 

“Come here,” Yoongi whispers, wrapping you against his side as you lie back down. Calling it what it is, he’s simply too shy to look into your eyes right now. “How are you gonna get home?” He’s fine taking you. But there’s a lot of risk there if your brother is awake or driving up at the same time. And—

Shit. You still have those shoes on. They can’t be comfortable while lying down, especially after you took him like a champion.

“I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. Of course you’d still ask that after commandeering the rest of his night. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True. Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” When Yoongi can’t confess out loud, he lets his eyes speak for him. Which makes your voice heavy with apology, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Fuck. “Really hurt.” 

He knows exactly what you mean. It’s been hurting like this ever since he left. Which means he  has to make up all that time. Grappling onto this chance you gave like a lifeline, he’s gonna right all his wrongs and fully commit. No matter how many shadows are in this damn apartment, because he now knows you’ll help chase them away.  

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently shifts his weight, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, hoping you understand what he means. “How about now.” 

Fingers meek, you clutch his head with a broken response, “Maybe try that one more time.”

He’ll do it as many times as you ask. 

Yoongi can feel the shudder in your chest. And he knows what that usually means. So he decides to run from your expression one more time, trying something else to hopefully comfort you. Sliding to the edge of his bed, he gently lifts one of your ankles onto a leg, back fully facing you as he undoes the meticulous leather straps. “I always do, babe.” 

When you’re silent, he slips one heel off before clarifying. “Miss you.”

“I just… Wasn’t sure.” 

He hates the waver in your voice. Hates how he’s the sole cause of it and fighting hard to not hurtle down another hole. “That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, finding comfort in massaging your exhausted soles. If he allows himself to dream, it would be to end each and every night just like this. Driving you to release before soothing your tired bones as you talk about whatever’s on your mind, working toward his dream while you drift off and get lost in yours. 

Can he have that? Will the universe let him have a future despite his past? “Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, turning to look at the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, “A little longer is nothing.” 

Of course. How could you be any less than perfect? A moment passes before he shifts, and this is when he finally spots the ocean of littered pens and papers on his floor. 

Is his smile that obvious? It doesn’t take you long to call his ass out. “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Going through all the other scenarios he’s thought of—one that occurs a little far from here—he grins. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

“Oh? Like what?”

He looks over his shoulder, and you scoff in frustration at his answer, “What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

—

—

Yoongi does his damned best to keep that smile on your face. After a shower that proves steamier than usual, he offers to make you dinner when your stomach roar makes him double over in laughter. And while he whips up a meal from the last batch of groceries Taehyung brought, Yoongi peeks around the bar to watch you discreetly open his front door. 

Wearing a shirt he used to wipe his own tears weeks ago. He’s been an utter, complete fool. 

“Is she there?” He calls out, to which you turn with a prominent pout on your lips. 

“No.” When you huff and puff to the kitchen, his eyes crease tight. “Whatever, I have plenty of time to become her new fave.” 

Over dinner, your laughs mix with his own as you tell him all your work stories. And Yoongi quickly realizes that this could’ve been the whole night and he’d be just as happy. Just as fulfilled. What does that tell him? Nothing he doesn’t already know. 

It’s when you both settle into bed that things simmer. And as Yoongi lies on your hearth of a chest, you tell him everything that happened with Jungkook. How you met, when your brother went from protectiveness to approval, up until the night he broke your heart. 

Yoongi doesn’t say a word. But he does encourage you to keep talking about your new job. Because it seems like the perfect fit for you, which is the complete opposite from where you were before. 

“Oh, wait,” you suddenly stop during a story about office decorating, “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

Now that it’s his turn to speak, Yoongi feels shy. You’ve been experiencing so much while he was away, and it’s relieving to know you didn’t lose most of your spark. “We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” he murmurs. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

You tense. “Me?”

A laugh flows out, warming his cheek. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

It takes a second for you to ask what he suspects you would, “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

Nope. There’s that insecurity again. And he’s already there to push it away, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and landing home on your lips. “It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Oh. Yeah. He loves you more than words could ever convey. 

But he doesn’t feel like he can tell you just yet. That’s the last hurdle he has to clear, and he finds himself eating shit every time he attempts. But it’s okay. There’s still time. Because you chose him again, you gave him another chance, you’re here. 

Finding his spot on your chest again, Yoongi immediately feels at peace. All the nights he dreaded, and all the nights he doesn’t remember—every single one can’t touch him now. Because in you, he finds a safe haven, the rolling hills of your limbs and the valley of your breasts shining and warm under your smiles. 

He’ll find a way to do this. He’ll find a way to set things straight with your brother and his past. Soon. Maybe. Hopefully. 

Yoongi starts to lull as you glide gentle fingers through his hair, something else that lends him the solace he’d been seeking for months. God, all he needed was you. And you’re the only thing he left… behind…

You’re humming. 

Ever the curious musician, Yoongi perks his ears to figure out what you’re singing. Is it something he can recognize? Is it a song he doesn’t know? No. You aren’t humming anything in particular. Which makes this performance unique and only for him, and your soft lilt tugs on every single string of his heart. 

Forget everything he had said before. This is how he wants to end every night, floating amongst your stars while your voice dips his mind in a stream of gentle song. 

God. You’re composing and don’t even know it. The way you stop before trying something different, the small grunt you make before going again to make a phrase better. It’s not unlike his own creative process, and that connection yanks tears straight from his soul. 

What did he ever do. What did he ever do to be with you.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

Yoongi just shakes his head, holding you closer and hoping you don’t notice the droplets through his tee. “Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, moving on to a drumline on his head that makes him huff in pure delight. 

But Yoongi commits that moving line you liked to memory, remembering every note and already weaving it into the fabric of his own making. A breakthrough sparks new life into his eyes, and Yoongi squeezes them tight while his lungs silently burn and burn. 

It’s what he had been fucking missing.  

You were the key this whole time. 

And he waits until you fall asleep to let out grateful, heavy sobs into your chest. 

—

—

The day after you left is one of the most stressful ones of his life. From the whirlwind of a morning to the moment of bravery in the studio to handling your brother, Yoongi needs a whole week of no brain activity. 

But that call with you long after night fell just changed his whole perspective on the time he’d been gone. 

You sounded so broken, so fragile, so defeated. It didn’t matter to have that one night of reunion. He fucked up the next day by falling asleep and leaving you worried yet again. 

You asked if he was done with you. And from the way you asked it, you already believed it to be true. 

And Yoongi never, ever wants you to question where he stands again. Not when there’s three words he wants to say to you every fucking day. 

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. Right towards the corner that stares back. “You’re nothing to me anymore,” he vows, walking to the guitar that almost shies away. “I’m done.” 

Keep saying it. Keep believing it. Keep focusing on the present and grasping that instead. And one day, these words will be truer than true. 

Reaching for the case, Yoongi stops midway, his hand unable to go any farther. 

All he has to do is throw it out. That’s it. Just take it, walk to the nearest dumpster, and discard. Years of toxins will fester somewhere else, and he’ll finally be rid of the dark. 

In the end, he still can’t do it. But that won’t stop him from showing you he’s better now. Showing himself he’s better now. 

Because he is, he is, he is. 

“For us.” 

-

-

tbc in fugue, pt. iii

-

so... thoughts before part 3? | join the server! | fugue pt. iii

Clacks erupt as Yoongi shoves his keyboard, its thump overshadowed by the rough rolls of his desk chair. 

Pacing along one side of his bed, he goes over what he just heard, fingers splaying across his face before becoming weights at his sides.

This isn’t a good sign. He’s gone at this project for months with absolutely nothing to show for it, any progress on it plummeting after his self-imposed exile days ago. 

To be fair? This is his fault. With the overload of the studio, his own project hasn’t been getting the attention it needs. Amongst other personal work he doesn’t want to confront. 

Which is why it sounds like shit. 

Yoongi hums a run of notes before muttering what he wrote, stopping at the same spot and trying to amend the lyrics with another turn of phrase. 

“Fuck, not that, either.” 

He walks out of his room, absentmindedly rapping with his hands and tsking when he hits a snag. 

Without fail, Yoongi ventures into his kitchen, walking past the fridge and into his laundry space to grab a bottle from a top shelf. 

Logically, he really should just invest in another bar cart. It’s kinda shitty having all these bottles where his washer and dryer sit. But why the fuck would he do that after what happened last time? 

“Are you even—”

No. It’s too early to fight.

Grabbing a dark green bottle and a glass, Yoongi heads back to his room, trying his damned best to figure something out and shoving the memory back in its box. 

A clunk and clink thump down when he does, him pouring a good amount before replaying what’s on his screen.

Mm. It’s definitely incomplete. 

What the fuck is it? What’s he missing?

Be serious. Yoongi knows exactly what’s missing and he’s known this whole time. It’s sitting in his living room laughing. Taunting. Maniacal. 

Fuck, focus on something else. He can do this without that goddamned guitar. Write.

So he does.

Yoongi writes, and writes, and sets it all free. 

Something about life. More about liquor. Mentioning the only things keeping him company after he secluded himself like an idiot. Flying, flying, flying. Falling, falling, falling.

What the hell are these bars? These lyrics are strange. 

Write write write accomplish something, goddamn. 

Morning slinks by as he loses himself, thrown into a kaleidoscope of life and words and spirals in the dark. 

Rain. Rain rain rain no tears only rain. Ripping a page. Thunder in silence thunder in darkness lightning striking the lines. Flashes of blue and a blank digital workspace. Another page torn away. Tracks that make no sense. Fog. Shadow. Another page crumbles in his hands.

No matter what, it’s not enough. She was right. He’s a failure and it’s too early to fight. Another page discarded. She was right all along. 

He’ll never be enough. 

—

“You’re more than enough.” 

—

Yoongi peels open heavy lids hours later, mini plastic piano keys and his sleeve the only silhouettes in the light of his awaiting screen. 

More than enough…

You told him that. 

Yoongi breathes into his arm, feeling what little life in him he has for tonight. The sliver of existence jump started by your words. By you.

You, with hands that he could hold for balance and dear life.

You, with all the stars of his galaxy in those eyes.

You, with fingers on his jacket unknowingly saving him from falling into himself—again, and again, and again.

What he would give to have you knock on his door one more time. 

But not yet. Not until there’s only one shadow existing in his place. And judging by the jitter in his bones, he’s gonna be dealing with a lot of them. 

Slowly readjusting his glasses, Yoongi observes his screen, remembering what happened at your house to force this distance. That damn confrontation. His damn fault. 

The night was going well until the incident. The way you went where he couldn’t follow, only to be stopped by one of your friends before he could attempt. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

What was her name again? 

Right. 

Dom. 

Her cousin had the heart that he broke with his brutal honesty. Yoongi suspects he won’t be on her good side for quite some time, despite knowing he will never, ever purposefully do anything remotely the same with you. 

It’s true. As much as he fucks up when it comes to you, he’ll be the first one to be there when you need him. Which is exactly what he’s trying to do now. 

“She went in there with Kook.” 

Dom pauses with a fury in her eyes, now aimed at someone or something else. “Shit, okay. Well. They can handle themselves.” 

Is that true? Are you gonna be okay? That’s all he wants. 

But judging by the look you gave him, this isn’t a conversation you’ll walk out of without wounds. 

When Yoongi gives Dom a look, she folds,

“Maybe. Fuck, he better not try shit.” 

“Like what?” What the fuck does she mean by that? 

“That boy had it bad. Probably still does. And they already saw each other the other day.” 

“I know.” 

That earns him a look. “She told him she was seeing someone. That true?” 

A nod. “Depending on what happens here, I’ll say something, too.” 

“You’re lying.” 

Huh? That’s not a lie in the slightest. Yoongi really will air it all out if he has to, because he’s feeling fiercely committed. 

Granted, dating was something he gave up before, so it’s not far fetched not to trust him. But seeing you? Being with you? That’s the most natural conclusion in his currently scrunched eyes. “Why would I lie about that?” 

“I dunno? To try shut me up or whatever.” 

It can’t be helped. This is what happens when his reputation precedes. 

But Yoongi won’t let it control him. Not when he finally has something he cares about more than anything. “I’m not trying shit,” he calmly assures, “Unless he does.” 

“Oh,” Dom breathes, eyes unblinking and darting across his face like hell. “You’re serious.” 

Whether it’s because he can’t stand around too long, or because he cannot describe how accurate that statement is, Yoongi can only hold his tongue, looking away with a curt nod. 

Nah. He can’t say what he really wants to right now. At least, not to her.

But what he says is enough. “I am.” 

Dom waits a bit. Most likely juggling the conflicting emotions in her head about you and her cousin’s past. But she finally breaks, “Gimme your number.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I have a plan.”

Yoongi stops before realizing he doesn’t have time for hesitation. Obliging, he types his number out for Dom to copy while blurting out a regretful, “Sorry.”

“Huh?”

“About your cousin.”

“Oh.” Her face has mastered the combination of shock and confusion. “Well, thanks, but she’s fine now.”

“Good. She deserves it.” 

“Yeah, no shit.”

Yoongi huffs before slipping back, “So what’s the plan.”

She texts him her name before sighing, looking at your door. “You and I both know she’s not gonna come out right after that’s over, whatever it is. So I’ll go in there after she has some space. Just text me when you’re good to go in.” 

Hold up. Dom’s really sticking her neck out? For him? Yoongi feels like this isn’t deserved, but he can’t let a sudden development distract him. “K.” 

“I mean it. If you fuck up this time, I swear to—”

“I won’t.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I—”

As soon as Yoongi hears the first raise of your voice, he abandons everything entirely, his body moving on autopilot before Dom can grab at his arm. 

And he’s right at your door, just about to reach the doorknob before another hand grips his wrist.

“Wait.”

Shit, he knows exactly who that is. And it’s not Dom.

Looking up, Yoongi faces his best friend with confusion, not caring how this looks and wondering why they’re supposed to wait in the first place. When he questions with a raise of his brow, he gets a whisper in return,

“I wanna hear this.”

Fine.

Both of them stand there, eyes trained on the ground and deciphering what they can. Getting more and more furious by the second.

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

Alright, Yoongi’s had enough. 

And a shared glare with his friend ends their wait, your brother twisting the locked knob before shouting, “What the hell’s going on in there!”

Some people down the hall look over, but Dom’s already directing them to move along. She seems pretty alright. 

“We’re fine! It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!”

Yoongi wants to believe you. He does.

“We’re okay.” 

Your brother looks right at him when he hesitantly backs down, “…Okay.”

And neither one of them vacate the doorway. 

No matter what, he’s gonna stay. Even if your brother bails—which he won’t—Yoongi will be here. Because he’s set on that statement being nothing less than fact.

Even though he’s slowly starting to realize he may need to lay low after tonight. 

Despite being on the same page, Yoongi has a feeling his emotions are being silently questioned. Those looks aimed his way feel loaded as fuck. 

He wants to hurl. 

No, no, it’s time to think things through. After tonight? He’s gotta lay low and keep distance. Don’t make any moves or risk you being anywhere near his place—

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck you just opened the door and Yoongi’s heart roars to escape his chest.

Nope. Still stuck to the same page as your brother, he’s going in. Because he’s gotta know what the hell is going on in here. 

He waits while you all hash it out, observing from a ways away until what the shit why are you getting shoved off— “The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Your outburst in his arms catches everyone’s attention. But he’s not letting your boiling energy go until you fight because your heartbeat is racing through your back. Holy shit. 

You have to breathe or else your heart’s gonna give out. And Yoongi wants to tell you that, tell you anything to let you know you know he’s in your corner. But he can’t do anything except fucking stand there until you shake him off. 

Let it go. Let things play out. But what the fuck have you and Jungkook been talking about?

What did he do to you? 

A dangerous mix of anger and suspicion twists his brain tight, tugging on itself and pulsing pressure along his forehead. Because controlling himself right now? Requires one thousand percent of his power. 

Because whatever happened between you two left scars that reopened tonight, and Yoongi can’t do anything but watch you bleed. 

What went down? Could he and your brother somehow have prevented it? Although, he wasn’t aware of your relationship with the kid, so he can’t fault himself for not being somewhere he didn’t know about. But how? How did he miss this part of your household life? 

Was he really that cut off from everything back then? 

Yoongi regrets that damning fact more than ever before.

Your change in tone catches his attention. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

Right. A simmering fire, your brother asks what he’s thinking, “…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook’s reply throws kindle on flames, and you have to snuff your brother out before he does anything stupid,

 “Of course it is.”

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

A pang worms its way into Yoongi’s side. When he swivels his head around the room, he can deduce exactly why he feels all sorts of messed up: Jungkook looks like he wants to defend you from your brother. Which should be a good trait. 

But Yoongi can’t fucking think straight because the heat of his best friend’s aura has set him ablaze, too.

And you look like you don’t wanna be here at all, fuck. 

It’s not just the heightened tension, either. There’s another matter that’s pressing his heart hard against his ribcage, and he’s doing everything he can to save it. To no avail, of course. 

Because there’s no way to tell your brother about everything now. Not after this disaster of a confrontation.

When you speak, his thoughts quiet to mirror the room, “Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” 

Mm. He doesn’t like that. 

Of course he understands. And Yoongi knows your brother will listen and they’ll leave in just a second. But he’s busting in if he hears shouts again and there will be no question about where he stands with you. 

“Please.” 

It’s that one plea that makes him relent. Because of course he will give you anything. But in dropping his thoughts, Yoongi finally looks up and over your shoulder. 

Only to see Jungkook glaring right at him.

Shit. Shit. That’s not a look he needs to receive from the kid unless he fucked up in the studio. Anywhere else, especially in regards to you? Laying low is definitely the move after tonight.

Yoongi will be wading too far in deep shit if he doesn’t. 

“Trust me,” you softly beg, to which he internally sighs. 

Yoongi trusts you with his life. On top of that, he has no doubt you’ll stand your ground after holding your own against all three of them. If you wanna do it alone, he’ll respect that and your brother most likely will, too. 

But the other guy in the room with hair dyed seventy shades lighter is on thin fucking ice. 

Jeon better fucking behave.

Decision made, Yoongi follows your silent sibling out of the room, briefly looking at the walls covered with memories and hoping the night ends as one of the good ones.

—

— 

Thunder rolls in the distance, lulling Yoongi back to the present company of his monitor. The same one he’s been using for awhile now, along with the same keyboard controller that he really needs to upgrade. 

Of course, he can still pull magic off with the tech in front of him. But it would be a little easier to weave complexity with more piano keys at his disposal. 

Not that it matters when his brain is fried. There’s no way he’s getting anything else done tonight. 

Successfully giving up, Yoongi trudges to his bathroom to relieve himself, bumping a shoulder on his doorway with a hissing curse. 

Of course the pain would come on the tailend of that memory. He was too hopeful then and he’s perfectly hopeless now. 

Seconds later, a sniff mingles with running water as he washes his hands, staring down the mirror while thinking about a fonder time. 

That day remains his safe haven. Yoongi will never forget the look in your eyes after you both drenched each other, water and shining smiles coating every spot of your skin. What he would give to live that moment again, one where he felt his heart grow ten sizes despite its dark confines. 

With another blink, you’re gone, taking all the color with your departure and leaving emptiness behind. The only sounds Yoongi can hear are the hum of his aircon and the gentle rush of water. 

Shit, the faucet is still on? Who’s running up his water bill now? 

Hair shifts forward as he reprimands himself, shaking a tired head filled to the brim with decisions he needs to file through. Can't take too long in the shower now. Who knows how fucking long he left the sink on. 

Fuck, he misses you. Please come back and tease him for being a hypocrite.

It’s only been a couple weeks since he left and, for the most part, it’s been manageable. The calls with you have been a lifeline, Yoongi needing them just as much as you have expressed. And when you shyly but bravely showed him some sundresses you got the other day, he had to grip his sheets in an iron fist to keep from rushing out the door. 

But after you get off the line, after darkness falls on his eyes? That is when he fights. Again, and again, every night since he made you blindly trust him with every beautiful fucking bone in your body. 

And every night, he fails you when he loses. 

Every. Single. Night. 

Sometimes, Yoongi wakes in a shuddering mess, scrambling to sit up and checking the entirety of his room to make sure she’s not there. 

Other times, he doesn’t even bother sleeping. And those nights are the longest, the ones that leave him with chasms under his eyes. 

Washing those same carved valleys now, Yoongi rubs his face under shower spray, raking hands through his growing hair before dousing it. 

You stood in this very space more than you ever should have. And he guarantees that, when you were here the first time, you were trying to get something off your arm that wasn’t gonna wash out. 

God, he fucked it all up from the very beginning. There’s no running from that, just like how there’s no running from the words he’d been punctured with before. 

“Useless piece of—”

Shut the fuck up. 

He will deal with her later. Same time, just like every other night. 

Every night until he doesn’t fail you anymore.

—

—

Showering lasts a lot longer than Yoongi intended, much to his own chagrin. 

Granted, a longer wash or two isn’t gonna fuck up his bill too much. But it’s the concept of all that waste that his parents instilled in him. Don’t take more than you need. Maybe he should’ve heeded that concept when dealing with his mountain of greed. 

That’s what it is, right? Keeping things tight with your brother; going around his back to keep seeing you; keeping truths away from the one that looked at you with dying stars in his eyes. 

Yoongi’s surprised he hasn’t collapsed from the weight of his implications yet.  

But he does just that after feeding the cat outside, falling onto his bed suddenly hesitant to call you. 

God, does he want to. Your voice, your gentle words, your contagious laughter—all of it’s right behind the press of a button, and yet… 

Tonight’s grim has decided to visit him a little early, it seems. 

But this distance was to conquer it all, right? So why can’t he get the fuck up and do it? He needs to if he wants a future with you. If he comes back into your life with this sludge on his shoulders, this monster on his legs? He’s only gonna stumble, when he should be walking alongside you. You deserve the parts of him he’s proud of, and right now, not much of those exist anymore. 

Not ever since she…

Fuck. He won’t get to talk to you, after all.

And he can’t fucking stand that. 

—

— 

Another week passes, laughing at Yoongi’s continuous inability to find a musical breakthrough.

Why can’t he get his shit together? He knows he can do this. There’s no question he’ll hit his stride and come up with something great. 

But that moment is nowhere in sight and it’s been stomping on his airway, not letting him breathe and questioning his skillset second by second. 

A few hums of his phone distract his chugging, sputtering train of thought, and he reaches for it in hopes to see your nickname. 

But disappointment seems to be the chosen track today, because these names aren’t yours. 

Dumbass [17:05]: We hooping today??

Dumbass [17:05]: At the gym and no one’s here 

Fuck, he forgot they were gonna be doing that during some weeknights. Sometime in the last couple days, Jimin brought up the idea to practice at a rec center further out, something about avoiding being watched by any neighboring competition. 

The dedication to intramurals this year is admittedly touching. Despite what people think about Yoongi, he does admire shit like this, especially if it truly surprises him. That’s why he gravitated to you in record time, right? You don’t care who sees that you care, and that’s more attractive than anything. 

Getting him to admit his admiration is another story, though. He’ll say it, but his friends have to work for those words. 

While you get to hear them as often as he thinks them.

Waiting to hear from the others, Yoongi blinks when more messages slide through.

Rohan G. [17:07]: omw sry

Chim [17:07]: Getting something first then heading over! 

A knock pounds on Yoongi’s door as he types that he can’t make it tonight, and he perks at the sound, adjusting glasses that shifted in his haste.  

No fucking way. 

How did Jimin even guess he’d be home? 

Dumbass [17:08]: Five bucks says Chim’s talking about Yoong

Chim [17:08]: 😂😂😂

Rohan G. [17:08]: Liked ‘Five bucks says Chim’s talking about Yoong’

Mumbling, Yoongi makes his way over, opening the door with an accusatory deadpan. “You wasted gas coming here.”

“No I didn’t.”

“I’m busy.” 

“No excuses!” Jimin lets himself in, scanning the living room and noticing a lone soju bottle on the coffee table. “Wait, who are you drinking with without me?” 

Shit. Yoongi forgot that was even there. Did he really forget to put it away? Did he end up finishing the whole thing? 

…Why can’t he remember any of that? “No one.” 

“Oh. I was about to say.” Chuckling to no one, Jimin goes to throw the glass in the kitchen recycling bin, and Yoongi notes with slight terror that it sounded very, very empty. “Been there. Now get ready, hurry up!”

Yoongi groans, not wanting to do this. At all. 

But it’s not basketball he’s referring to. In fact, playing pick-up will be a perfect distraction from his harrowing thoughts. 

However, there’s something else he’ll have to confront when he’s there in that gym. Something he’ll have to deal with during every practice. 

Your brother. 

Seeking the private space of his closet, Yoongi sighs to himself as he grabs a tank, recalling the last real conversation he had with his best friend. One from that same night he keeps going back to. 

The very reason he had to say goodbye. 

It’s still so vivid he can smell your brother’s cologne. After the confrontation in your room, leaving you to fight for yourself proves too hard for him. But it proves even harder for the guy practically torching your door with his glare. 

Anticipating a historic fallout, Yoongi lays a firm arm over your sibling’s front, challenging those burning eyes before forcing him away, away, away from your bedroom door. 

He tries to rush back, but Yoongi’s there again, shoving towards the open hallway with all his might and warning his best friend with no words at all. 

It works. For now. 

Shrugging, the man visibly inhales as they head into the noisy house, passing through and going straight to where Yoongi assumes correctly. 

Seconds later, they’re in a bedroom he has been in more times than yours, him settling into a stiff desk chair while your brother sits hunched over on sagging sheets. 

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“No you won’t,” Yoongi quips, staring up at framed vinyls and jerseys. Voice neutral, he explains with logic, “If you’re charged with his murder, she’ll be charged with yours.”

“Yeah, but.. Did you see her back there? She looked so..”

Yoongi’s heart pangs. Because yes. Yes, he fucking did. Not only did he see you, but he felt you—the anger, the sadness, the confusion. Honestly, he has the same threatening thoughts as his best friend, but there’s no way they’re being let loose.  

So he can only hum in acknowledgement. “I know.” 

After a long beat, your brother forces the frustration from his lungs, “I need a fucking drink.”

“Then get up.” 

“And a hit.”

Yoongi’s eyes follow the gesture your brother aims toward his desk, and he grabs the lone pack before tossing it over. 

Minutes go by as they meander through the house, ignoring the curious looks and shouts to play cards. After procuring a bottle and glasses from the kitchen, they head out not to the full backyard, but into the open air of the front porch. 

“Give us some space for a sec, guys,” your brother calmly asks, not shocking Yoongi but startling the small gathering in the area. Everyone quickly apologizes for no reason before filing inside. 

Leaving the two of them alone against the world. As it has been. As it should be.

Fuck. 

Yoongi watches his friend approach the wooden railing overlooking the garden, arms resting on mahogany that he just got refinished two weeks ago. As he licks dry lips, he listens to the man he’s known forever, hating how he feels like a fraud. 

“I knew they had a thing, but.. I dunno what to think now.” The fidget of his leg mirrors how Yoongi feels. “He’s the only one I trusted with her.”

Damn. So what the hell happened between then and now for Kook to lose it all? Is the same fate awaiting him when his own truth comes into the spotlight?

Silent and aching, Yoongi walks up to join his friend, offering whisky and his two cents, “Maybe something happened.”

A sigh precedes a pouring of liquor. Your brother really is going through it if he’s serving himself a double, and it’s not easy to watch. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

Well. Many reasons, Yoongi imagines. Definitely not coming from a long period of terrifying experience, of course. 

As he pours his own glass, he asks with a hint of anxiety, “Would you've listened if they had?” 

They both know the answer, so he doesn’t understand the hesitation before the man finally concedes, “…I dunno. Probably would’ve just kicked his ass.”

Both of them let out knowing huffs of amusement, no doubt picturing the same scenario. “Uh huh.” 

Your brother is the first to default back to wallowing. “Nah, but… He hurt her, dude. Did you see how she looked?” 

“You asked that already,” Yoongi points out before taking a fig and tobacco-infused sip. “But no, I was mostly watching him.”

He earns a shoulder covered look before a grateful, haunting, “Thanks.” 

That’s Yoongi’s role to play, after all. Watching out for anything and anyone that would do you harm while your brother is away. It’s how things have been for a minute, even Jimin and now Taehyung taking up that position alongside him. 

It sets a lingering ache in his stomach to know his place is so close, yet so damn far. The fact that he’d perpetually be just out of reach should be enough to drive him mad. But your brother is his number one. His life saver. His everything. 

A sinister voice tugs on Yoongi’s ear, reminding him how easy it’s been to betray the guy despite all that supposed loyalty in his veins. What a joke. What a traitor.

He swipes the wisp away with a scratch. “Do you trust her?” 

“It’s not that. It’s… It’s always been everyone else I have an issue with.” 

Agreed. “Mm.” 

“I mean, I trust you,” his friend continues, straightening to pop a cig from its box. As he grabs it with wet lips, words get muddled but still ring clear, “Not in that way with her, I’d fucking kill you, but. I know you got my back, too.” 

Yoongi’s stomach convulses down the porch steps. 

And at the flick of a lighter, his last shred of hope goes up in flames. “Uh huh.” 

“I just… I know I overreact. I’m not above thinking I don’t. But I just gotta be sure she has someone good to her.” Restless smoke billows out as a contemplative arm falls. “I know I haven’t been around lately.” 

Ah. Yoongi’s stomach is about to have a companion, his heart dangling from the cliffs of his ribs.

Someone once told him that life begins and ends with choices. Decisions make branches from your tree, consequences and outcomes spiraling from each major base. The ones made with good intentions sprout leaves; the ones made with ill will wither away. Those are the ones that weigh you down with no effort—the ones you have to cut before they stunt your growth.

As his fingers graze over a proverbial machete, Yoongi wonders if the choices he made with you in mind count for the better. They have to, right? If he’d make them again, that counts for something, yeah? 

Talking into his glass, Yoongi responds to the one that told him all this in the first place, back when he pulled out the diseased roots poisoned by a smile. “Then do that.” 

“Do what?” 

Even if these decisions were made with good intentions, they’re still twisted. And there’s no way to straighten them when a soul feels way too similar. “Stick around for a sec.” 

Be there with you when he walks away from the most beautiful branch he’s ever grown. 

As much as he’s fighting himself to not do it this way, it’s inevitable. This is a horrible line to walk between the both of you, and he’s quickly seeing less and less options. 

Because if he tells your brother about the two of you now? It’s over. But if he keeps this up with you and strains the bond with your family? The guilt will eat him alive. 

You both mean the world to him. Which leaves Yoongi with an impossible scenario unless he gets his shit figured out. 

And he has. So much shit.

“Stick around?” 

“Yeah. Like a few months or so.” If he needs more time than that, he’ll legitimately go insane. 

“What’s with the sudden advice? You miss me that bad?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. At least, not without choking on his own self-affliction. “So she knows she’s got someone after all this.” 

After what he’s about to do. 

“Also, no. I don’t,” he lies. 

Your brother gives a playful shove before looking into his glencairn. “I guess I could move some trips around. They don’t really need me for the time being anyway.” 

“Does she know, by the way?” 

“Know what.” 

A shrug. “Anything. Why you even have this job in the first place.” 

“No,” your brother admits before taking another hit. “She doesn’t need to worry about that shit.” 

“She could appreciate it. Knowing.”

A look is sent his way. “You’re acting like you know her.” 

Fuck. Think. He cannot fuck this up before it even starts. “Is this really about me?” 

Yoongi is taking a huge gamble here. But it works. Most likely because both of them are way too tired to think about uncomfortable things anymore. 

“No. And I’ll think about staying.” 

Beat irregular, Yoongi’s heart prepares for the free fall.

“You’re a good guy, Yoong.” 

And it slips from the ledge before he’s ready. “You, too.” 

“Me? Don’t I know it,” your brother jokes with a laugh, straightening and smushing his cig in an ashtray. “I’m gonna make my rounds again.”

“Probably gonna head out soon,” Yoongi says, the organ in his chest slowly losing its pulse. “Just gotta say some byes first.” 

“Really? You never say bye.” 

Tonight, Yoongi will. He has to see you one last time before going back to his personal hell. “Sometimes. You just never see me.” 

The door opens with a slight creak. Because this part of the front porch hasn’t been redone yet. “Ah, whatever.” 

As a wave of aroma wafts through the foyer, Yoongi blurts another idea before he can stopper his worrying mind, “Leave her some food, too. She’s gonna need it.” 

The last thing he sees before a voice cuts in from above is your brother’s backward look.

“You ready?” 

Thrown out of the memory, Yoongi flicks his gaze to the one filling up his bedroom door. 

Bedroom door. His bedroom. They’re gonna go practice. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Okay…” Jimin gives him a look that calls him out like no other. It’s quite impressive how he’s always been able to do that.

But the nosy man doesn’t pry this time. “Then let’s go.” 

—

—

Playing goes well. While it’s clear none of the guys are at their best, they’re gonna get there. Even if it’s building stamina, which Yoongi desperately needs. But if they keep practicing like this? It could actually make them a threat the rest of intramurals. 

But your brother has been subdued all night. To the point where Jimin shoots Yoongi some choice looks to go over and ask what the fuck is up. 

Fine. He’ll deal with it. When he travels down the sideline to start the conversation, turns out the quiet mood is because of work,

“I’m trying to get out of it.”

“Out of what? A trip?”

“Yeah.”

“Just don’t go,” Yoongi poorly advises, wiping forehead sweat with his tank. A quick push forces laughter out his lips.

“You know I can’t do that.” Sporting a frown, the busy man sighs loud. “Especially when I’m in line for a promotion.”

“Wait, what?” Hold up, that’s a new development Yoongi didn’t see coming. Though he should have, since this guy is a nerd and one hell of a charmer. “Since when?”

“Trying not to say anything to jinx it.” Hide it all he wants, his smile contradicts his humility. Yoongi can’t help but give him a raised brow. When Jimin jogs up, he listens in with curiosity. “But yeah, they’re in talks to move me up.” 

The dusty blond yells in shock, hand over his mouth as some dribbling around them stops. The guys on the other end of the court still keep shooting around, though, squeaks of sneakers pinging off stark gym walls. 

“Trying not to say anything, huh,” Yoongi drawls, smirk collecting some loose sweat. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck off,” your brother counters with a grin. A real one this time. “I did wanna tell you guys, just in person. But nothing’s guaranteed yet so if I don’t get it, no clowning.”

“Nah, you’re gonna get it,” Jimin assures, patting him on the back and recoiling at the moisture. “Ah. Are you aware you feel like a wet rag?”

While Yoongi’s shoulders shake, your brother’s dip as he grows sheepish, “I know. Nerves got me playing a little too hard.” 

Humility. Shyness. These emotions are hard to come by when it comes to him. When did he get this soft? Is he actually hanging out with you like Yoongi intended?

If so, that’s good. You both need it. The distance is working. 

So why does that gut him even deeper? 

“Alright, let’s put those nerves to use then,” Jimin offers, tone leaving no room to argue. Calling out to the whole court, he shouts, “One more game then we’re done!” 

The whole team acknowledges him in tandem. 

—

— 

Holy fuck, it’s over.

Hearts pumping and breath ragged, everyone dumps themselves on the court floors when your brother finally, mercifully makes the winning shot. 

Of course the last game took them fucking forever. No one could make a basket from being so worn down, and Yoongi’s muscles started protesting so hard they were gonna force him horizontal without his say. 

Someone’s phone vibrates from the bleachers, and no one even moves to check if it’s theirs. Only huffs, exhales, and gulps fill the large space, body heat and sweat weighing the air down.  

“Ah, shit, that’s me,” your brother rasps, twisting his watch while lying flat on his back. Tapping the glass face with his nose, he answers with enviable energy, “Hello!”

“Hey. You still out?”

Yoongi’s heart shatters on impact.

His gaze flicks to Jimin’s before he tilts toward fluorescent ceiling lights, splayed hands keeping him upright and eyes closing in longing. 

“Yeah, we’re still out. What’s up?”

“Just wondering. Dinner’s in the fridge, saved some stew for you.” 

“Thank god. There meat in there?”

As you prattle off a stinging response, Yoongi slowly smirks despite his ribcage tearing itself into scraps. What he would give to come home to you making dinner, joining you to help and watching your cute ass bustle around his kitchen—your kitchen.

One day. One day, one day, one day. 

“—be back soon. Thanks for the food!” 

“Mmhmm. See you later.”

As much as your voice soothes, Yoongi can’t help but think you sound… What is that he hears? There’s something in there that’s making his chest clench impossibly hard, digging into his head and making him regret everything all over again. 

No. It’s not what you sound like, it’s what you don’t. 

Yourself.  

Which is not what Yoongi intended. And his control over the dark part of his mind slips a precarious amount. 

His walls slam so far down that memories flood in, whisking him back to the moment he both wants to think about and banish from his heart all the same. 

The one he replays in his mind over, and over, and over again. 

After his talk with your brother, he did end up saying goodbye to some friends around the house. Did he do it because he wanted to? Sure. But mostly he did it to procrastinate saying goodbye to you. 

However, when he gets a text from your friend, his heart stutters and braces for a total meltdown. 

Dominique S. [21:30]: Going in there now.

Yoongi [21:31]: 👍

Yoongi [21:35]: Clear

Why is he nervous? Why is he shaking?

Dom opens the door with haste. “One minute,” she warns, and Yoongi already knows she’s the type to count every second. “Then you’re on your own.”

Sixty seconds.

He can do that.

Any amount of time with you is enough.

“K.”

Yoongi enters to see your face so torn his heart lurches, propelling him the rest of the way until he’s close enough to pull you in. 

Yes. Let it out. Let it all out while he’s here.

“Fuck.”

Yoongi does everything he can to relieve you of anything that doesn’t serve you. Squeezing his embrace to keep it imprinted around your soul long after he parts. Your voice is music along his bones, steadying him upright when he wants to crumble at your feet. 

Even if this is all he gets, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

But he has to know if you’re gonna be okay, and reality sets in like quicksand. 

Fuck, this is really the last time he’s gonna see you. Fuck fuck fuck he needs more time. “What happened?” 

You aren’t talking.

That answers enough. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he amends, kissing your forehead and stepping back at arm’s length. “You gonna be okay?”

Shit. You look like you’ve been shattered and are attempting to find your pieces. And Yoongi despises that look because he’s been there before. 

Before. Sure. It’s more truthful to say he’s still searching for most of his. 

“Yes. No. I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

For a moment, Yoongi abandons his priorities and his whole upper body calms. Because you have that power over him. And he’s fine with being at your mercy whenever you demand it. 

His voice comes out so soft, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

Smart ass. What he says next is a knife twist into his side, because he wants it so fucking badly he’ll do anything,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

But not now. There’s something he has to take care of first before he takes care of you. Something slithering around his living room and waiting for him to leave you behind. 

You’re doing everything he wants, from closing the distance to circling arms around his waist. Fuck, if he could choose one thing to linger, it would be the feel of those hands pressed against his shirt. And his reverence on your temple to keep your mind safe.

“I want you to do that,” you admit into his tee, “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Even your arm feels timid under his touch? Shit. 

If only he’d done things properly. Yoongi would have spent this whole night by your side and taken you home at the first drop of a fucking tear. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If he were someone else. If he had come clean before. 

If he wasn’t such a damn coward. 

Why did it all come crashing down over the course of a day? How could this disruption derail the quickest path to happiness in a second? 

Path number two is long, and arduous, and dangerous. But Yoongi’s gonna brave it all for you. A clean slate is what you deserve, not this room marred with grime and his shortcomings, his own demons tearing at the walls. 

A warning knock slams his brain into overdrive, and he must look like a mess right now because you’re staring and staring hard fuck! “Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

The understanding in your eyes is misguided. And it cracks his heart in two before he interrupts your hopeful strategy.

“There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

He’s never felt so hollowed out in his life. 

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

There’s already a ring of fire around his eyes. 

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

This is all he can say? This is all he’s gonna give you? Judging by the blockage in his throat and the ache along his heart, Yoongi realizes he can’t explain himself. It’s too shameful. It’s better if he doesn’t. 

But watching hurt and confusion prick your eyes is setting his lungs ablaze. Fuck, you deserve someone better but also fuck that because he’s gonna fight for this shit. This is the only path he can see. The one he must travel himself. 

And he’s already burning your features on his eyelids, if only to see your outline in every blink.

Say something. Please. “Babe?”

Tell him not to go. 

Tell him to go out there and fucking confess because he’ll do it. 

Something painful replaces the beats of his heart, changing the tempo and forcing them staccato. The skip, skip, thump of his chest almost buckles him forward, but Yoongi forces himself to stand tall. Resolute. Decisive. 

But tell him anything you want and he’ll do it. 

Fuck, he can’t deny anything anymore. The thoughts that have plagued his mind for months are now the ones he invites in without hesitation. Because he’s done pretending they’re lies. 

He’s yours. It’s always been this way, long before you even knew it. If only you could read his mind because it has hell of a lot more to say than he does, because right now? If you break down then he’s right there with you. 

Fuck, this is a mistake. His gut is screaming and protesting and there’s nothing he can do to placate. What the fuck is he doing? Why can’t he feel his own heart anymore? “Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you choke out, searing his eyes a whole deeper shade. “I’ll do it.”

Goddamn it. Yoongi already wants to abandon his idea because you look so lost and he’ll scrap it all if you tell him not to go please tell him not to go be selfish be selfish yell at him and be selfish— 

“Anything for you.”

Fuck.

The pang in his chest tells him all he needs to know. How this is a big fucking mistake but he can’t think of any other way out. He’s doing this for the both of you. You and him. For you, for him—

“For us,” he corrects, diving in to give you the deepest kiss filled with his greatest fears.

This is for the long run. Yoongi’s decidedly, one-hundred percent in it for the long run.

As long as he keeps fighting his demons. Each and every single night. 

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

Leaving you is already making him weary. Knowing he’s going into that apartment alone for days. He won’t get to see you at all. There will be nothing but work and the occasional drink with Jimin, which even then he may start to turn down.

This distance is necessary. But also fucking stupid. 

Maybe you’ll forget about him.

Maybe you’ll realize life is probably better without him in it.

But above everything, he really fucking hopes that you’ll come find him again. 

Your fingers on his arm are what Yoongi feels first. But his body reacts in a second as soon as you tug him back into a kiss. 

And his eyes catch fire as they squeeze, ribcage clenching and gasping for air when you do that desperate tug on his clothes. Shit shit shit if you do that again he’ll never fucking leave your side.  

Everything else disappears except you. Your breaths, your lips, your unending consideration for his space. He asked and he got it, which makes this one act of resistance tear him right through, and he pours every ounce of himself into making you understand how much he wants this. 

“Yoongi, I—”

Don’t say it. Not when he’s about to break everything apart. 

Fuck, you were really gonna say it. Yoongi knows it in his fucking bones and his heart is gasping. Fuck.

Of fucking course this is how he finds out. Right before he leaves? Right before he ventures into himself to confront everything he doesn’t wanna see? 

This alone will be his guiding light. The knowledge that you feel the same way he does and the reason for everything he’s gonna fight through. “I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.” You have to believe him.

Because he’s gonna find it hard to believe himself. “Okay?”

Your face contorts in a way that has his eyes scorching. Without knowing anything about why he’s gonna leave or how long it’s gonna be, you’re looking at him with vehement trust and searing willpower. So goddamn strong, just as he needs to be.

He loves you so fucking much. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips so hard against yours that you react, your saltwater sloshing against his cheeks just in time to hide his falling tears.

He needs this. You need him to do this. Everything he’s about to do, it’s all for you. You, you, you. 

Because he knows you’d go with him anywhere, but when it comes to his inner fears, that’s not somewhere you can follow. That’s a place he has to walk into on his own, knowing he’ll be swallowed in darkness until he finds his own dimmed light. 

Yoongi pulls away right as Dom opens the door, but he doesn’t even flinch at the sight of her. Because he wants you to see that. He wants to show you where he stands for real. 

“I got us,” he vows, planting one more kiss on a forehead he reveres so much. 

“Hurry up, for god’s sake!” 

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly increasing the distance and already feeling his heart pleading to feel yours again. 

You’re so beautiful.

He doesn’t want to go. 

But with one final look, Yoongi leaves, and it’s a miracle he stepped out of your room in one piece because he feels like he left his better half inside.  

Didn’t he say you were his good luck charm? Who the fuck leaves their guardian angel behind? He can’t think about how you looked. Those tears will be flooding into his dreams. 

Fuck, he needs air. 

Brain scrambled, Yoongi heads straight down the lesser tracked hallway before escaping to the guest room. When his wrist is grabbed, he flinches so hard it strikes like lightning. “Just give me a sec.”

Dom’s voice can command anyone with ease. “Look at me.”

So he does. Annoyed he can’t have time to get his shit together but obeying nonetheless. What’s the fucking point anymore. He’s already lost it all. 

“Oh,” she quietly observes. “You look like shit. What happened in there?”

What a succinct summary. Yoongi wipes a bit of his face with the back of his thumb, looking away on pure instinct.

“I’m about to swing so you better start explai—”

“Whatever I’m about to do, I’m doing it for her,” Yoongi admits out loud. So easily. So naturally that Dom blinks and can’t do much else. Sighing, he closes his eyes. “But I can’t just… I dunno how to say it yet.” 

“What?”

Everything is too hard to lay out right now. Doesn’t matter what the fuck it is, it’s fighting to stay in his arid throat. “I… Got shit to deal with first. Shit I know she’d want me to fix.” 

“You sure about that? Cus it looks like you just cut everything off.”

Dominique is being too fucking accurate right now. His hatchet is bleeding. That branch was his life force. “For now,” he solemnly sighs. “But I have to try.”

“If this doesn’t work, you’re dead to me.” 

“I’ll be dead to me, too.”

At this, Dom reels back so far it’s comical. “What are you saying? Hello?”

“Just… Keep her busy. For me.”

“Umm, no, go back. What the fuck are you planning to do?”

Oh. Yoongi gets what Dom’s thinking, but that’s not what he’s talking about. 

He’s at least gotten past that part. 

“Nothing like what you’re thinking.” Yoongi scratches an ear. “I just need to get my mind right. I don’t wanna bring any baggage into this, but. If you haven’t guessed, I have a fucking lot.” 

“Fucking men,” she scoffs, smushing her lips in aggravation. But after a drawn-out silence, she softens and offers sincerity. “Actually? I can respect it. You’re doing something right, at least.”

“Damn well hope so.”

It takes awhile for Dom to respond. But after multiple thoughts sail across her eyes, she sighs, sliding braids across a shoulder. “I’ll do my best to help. But.. We both know something’s gotta give at some point.”

“I know.”

“K.” She walks off with a warning stare. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond until she’s out of earshot. Because the only one he needs to convince is himself.

“Same.”

That single word is the last to echo through his mind as Yoongi opens his eyes, feeling hardwood floors under his fingers as he tilts his head sideways.

Hold up. How long did he wander? The rest of the team clatters along the bleachers, picking up their bags or changing into dry clothes. 

Jimin spots him looking first. “You gonna join us or stay behind?”

Yoongi puffs out a breath before his eyes find the ground. “Don’t tempt me.”

He means it as a joke. But deep down, he’d rather be anywhere other than home right now. Which is quite the setback since that’s where he’s supposed to get shit done, the place that’s supposed to feel safe. 

This sucks ass.

“Get up, man,” your brother offers with an outstretched hand. “It’s late.” 

The whole time he waits before clasping it in an upward tug, Jimin doesn’t sway his stare. 

And the whole car ride back to his place, Yoongi tries his best to ignore all the long looks aimed his way. 

—

— 

Why do his keys run from him when he truly needs them to cooperate? 

Keys jangling in his hand, Yoongi finally locks his door, fast-walking down the outside hall and making a beeline to his car. 

He doesn’t know how he woke up with no alarm, but he’s grateful he shot up when he did. The studio has a packed schedule today, and he’s the session producer while the others are working on mixes. 

The crisp morning air caresses his skin before he opens a car door, and Yoongi takes a second to observe the sky. 

Overcast. Not as bad as it could be, though he hasn’t seen the Sun in days. 

Truthfully, he hasn’t felt it either after abandoning its warmth in a room far away. 

His engine starts before he makes his way out of the complex, and the soft music from his phone reminds him of you. Reminds him of the empty seat next to him that has seen better days and even better nights. 

After he severed his heart, Yoongi remembers saying goodbye to a few others. But not by choice. The last people he said those words to were the same people he was going to be seeing again bright and early the next day. 

Once again, he’s back to that same night. 

“Hey.”

Yoongi turns, seeing Jungkook gesture out to the front door. When his hairs stand on end, he curses to himself, fighting to show any emotion as he follows the boy outside. 

Whatever happens, he’s not losing to this kid.

But when the door creaks open, Yoongi notices the company with a few blinks. What are Joon and Hobi doing out here? Weren’t they just in the backyard? 

“What’s up,” he asks, and they stop their conversation to shrug. He watches silent as Namjoon points to the youngest one out there,

“He pulled us out. Ask him.”

Huh?

Two thoughts race through the halls of his mind. On one hand, this has to be a studio talk given the present company, so it has nothing to do with you. And second, this could either be bad news or good news, and he really, really needs the latter.

“Good news and bad news,” Jungkook starts. Of fucking course. “We already have another project.”

“Sounds like only good news to me.”

Yoongi nods with Hobi at Namjoon’s quick reply. Because being trapped in his apartment was gonna drive him to the brink. But having something to accomplish and an excuse to go outside? It’s a goddamned godsend. 

“Yeah, well—just listen real quick, okay?” Shifting his weight, Jungkook takes out a slim device to take a sweet-smelling hit. Something he tends to do when he’s getting a little anxious—and Yoongi damn well knows the root of that anxiety from tonight. “This one’s another multi-track recording deal. And we, uhh. We start first thing tomorrow.” 

Hoseok gawks. “Wait. What do you mean tomorrow?” 

Yoongi can’t even hide the matching question on his face. Because yeah he needs the distraction but what the fuck? When the hell was Jungkook gonna tell them? “You didn’t think to tell us sooner?” 

“It all just went through tonight,” Jungkook hastily defends, unlocking his phone to prove himself. The blue light outlines his features, and Yoongi notices with a stinging pang that the boy’s eyes are stained with sorrow. “Lemme just, umm.. Lemme find the email.” 

Seems like all three of you aren’t sleeping well tonight.

But he’s gotta keep focus. Even if the deal just went through, next day start is one hell of a turnaround. There’s gotta be more Jungkook isn’t saying, and Yoongi hopes to everything divine that the kid knows what he’s doing. 

Poor management will break them without so much as a sweat if they aren’t careful with their calendar. 

“Here,” the youngest finally blurts, forwarding all the guys the email and pocketing his phone. “This is the first one.”

“First one?” Namjoon asks, prompting all heads to pop up. “There’s more?”

Shit. One multi-track recording deal is already gonna occupy a lot of studio time. What the hell did Jungkook get them all into? 

“We also have another gig, same type. In about two weeks from now.” 

Two weeks isn’t a lot but it’s doable. And that means Yoongi will have at least fourteen days of temporary daytime relief. 

“But we’re gonna wanna wrap up the first one before then. The other one is high profile. We’ll give these guys all our attention.” 

And that is what sets off a little alarm bell in Yoongi’s head. Shouldn’t they provide everyone that works with them all their focus? Why would they cherry pick if they set the deal? 

Vision blurring into a road instead of your porch, he grips the wheel while checking his back mirror. Wondering how he’s gonna get everything done today. 

Did Jungkook get the workspace ready? Are all the plug-in’s he usually likes already set aside? Is everything connected to the pre-amp’s? 

Yoongi hopes so. He’s lax when it comes to most, but not within the soundproof walls of a studio. 

But he’s gotta be careful. If he ends up butting heads with a certain headstrong kid in there, there’s no telling what comes flying out of that box. 

Clouds float above when he finally drives up to his normal parking space, and Yoongi sits with himself for a second. Thinking. Composing. 

Grateful for anything that’s keeping him from losing his goddamn mind. 

— 

— 

One day, you texted him a song because you miss him. 

And for the next three, he let it loop until he understood every part.

— 

— 

The practices. The more sporadic calls. The studio sessions. 

Everything has proven a much needed distraction from his shadows. But he still has the strongest urge to alleviate the tears he knows he’s causing to just see you for one fucking day and fuck. 

He can’t catch a fucking break. 

You’re trying your hardest to deal with his bullshit distance. Yoongi knows it; he can feel it. Frankly, all he wants to do is come back to you, but he can’t until he moves forward. This is the only way.

However. As soon as he feels like he can step right, another hole hollows the ground.

And this one looks a little too colossal to cross. 

“How long do they wanna book now?” Hoseok thankfully asks for everyone else in the room, referring to the second gig opportunity revealed at your place. 

“Just one more week than planned,” Jungkook confirms, looking at his phone and scratching his head. “But they’re paying good.” 

Namjoon is the next one to speak up, “You still haven’t told us who’s coming.” 

Cheeky as ever, the youngest bursts into a grin. And his response ices the room, “That’s cus it’s still a surprise!” 

What. This isn’t how things are supposed to work. 

Yoongi prods his cheek while Joon groans. “Now’s not the time for surprises. We just got our last mess cleaned up.” 

It’s one of the reasons they’ve been held up in the studio for longer than Yoongi wanted. He absolutely loves being here, smelling the leather and instruments and getting to drown out his thoughts with music. 

But when things that could’ve been avoided go wrong? That’s what pisses him off. 

And not just him. Hobi and Joon have been less than passive about their discontent when all of them weren’t given the full rundown of what samples were cleared and which weren’t. So when Jungkook finally gave them the list that he “thought they knew,” the tension between them all reached a new peak. 

Mistakes like that can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They’re lucky it hadn’t gotten to that point of no return yet, but.. water under the fucking bridge just plummeted down another cliff. 

It’s a little while later—after Kook still refused to say who was coming to their fucking studio—that Yoongi heads to the hallway to take out his phone. 

Because as soon as he gets updates? He’s letting you know. 

No surprises for you. Not again. 

Yoongi [17:02]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [17:03]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [17:03]: Letting you know

Head hitting the wall behind him, Yoongi closes his eyes for what seems like a century. What is time right now anyway? These past few weeks have either been sludge or a rushing current, and both are dragging him under.

He knows he keeps letting you down like this. And you’re probably wondering what the fuck is going on, because why wouldn’t you? 

If you decide to cut things off, he can’t be mad. This was his decision, so he’ll face those consequences no matter how severe they slice through. 

You’re gonna think he’s doing something else. 

Please don’t. He just needs more time. 

Shit, his phone just vibrated twice. Tension mounts his shoulders from pure habit, knowing that he’s gonna be met with either disappointment or wrath. 

Here goes.

Hustler [17:07]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

Hustler [17:07]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

Oh.

…Fuck, you’re really…

Yoongi can physically feel his cheeks lift as he starts to smile. And that smile turns into a quick grin before his relief puffs out of his mouth in a laugh. 

Did you really banish his worry just like that? 

Pushing off the wall, Yoongi huffs once more to the empty hallway before taking two paces to his side, looking at his phone again to make sure what he just read was real. 

It is. 

Fuck, he doesn’t even know what to say. 

Yoongi [17:09]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

He laughs again. And he doesn’t even know why. It’s not like you said the funniest thing in the world. What’s happening to his chest? 

This is so unlike all the other shit he dealt with before that the joy suddenly meets a monster in his ribs.  

Shit. 

Little pricks of fire light his eyes, searing the corners and spreading to the rest of his face. His little sounds stop, and his back thuds against the hallway wall again. 

Phone at his side, Yoongi glances up at the ceiling. And it’s certainly not to stop anything from falling. Yeah. Sure. 

You’re really something else. 

And his decision to keep you at a safe distance is starting to piss him off.

Maybe it will take less time than he thought. Maybe the shadows won’t linger much longer. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe not maybe— 

Yoongi [17:11]: Fuck I miss you

He sends it before realizing what he even sent. 

Which catches him off guard, staring at his phone until your typing indicator pops up. Waiting like a man starved until your message slides through. 

Hustler [17:12]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

One drop. 

One single drop pings onto his screen before Yoongi snaps his head back up, feeling the monster launch itself forward for a kill. 

And he stumbles down the hall, past a few doors, rounding a corner and bursting through a back door into the alleyway before gripping fingers around his phone. 

Fuck, it hurts. 

It all fucking hurts. 

Hunched on his knees, Yoongi breathes rough as fear rushes in from all sides, inundating his head with thoughts of disappointment and trauma. And he can’t even focus focus focus on the now because the past is doing its best to haunt him. Tell him he doesn’t deserve this. Berate him for being happy about anything anything anything he can’t have anything he doesn’t deserve it. 

Yoongi fights to do one thing first. He has to get this out before he’s too far gone because you more than deserve one pathetic act of effort. 

Yoongi [17:15]: Thanks doll

And that’s the last thing Yoongi remembers before his brain goes dark. 

-

-

tbc in fugue, pt. ii

-

so... thoughts before part 2? | join the server! | fugue pt. 2

The estate has its own private spa. Yoongi built it inspired by Roman baths. The walls and pool are tiled with small blue mosaics, broken up by golden details. There are statues situated along the walls, beside the big arched windows and the arched doorway. There is even a second floor and a small tiled balcony from which one might jump into the water if one desires to do so. The ceiling is tiled as well, showcasing golden suns against blue skies. Taehyung did most of the artworks. You added your own little touch as well by filling the room with tropical plants perfect for the humid conditions. The waters are heated by magic-powered generators, carrying many healing minerals and filling the room with a comfortable steam. 

Yoongi built lounges into the walls, nestled between pillars and arches. They are also tiled, but are covered in soft towels and pillows. Warm ceiling lights, tangling from the arches, illuminate each of the eight lounge areas. They are big enough to house two people comfortably and three if the people are not opposed to cuddling.

You wait for him in front of his wing. He joins you in a black bath rope and matching slippers, carrying his towel over his shoulder.

“You’re so handsome.” 

“Alright”, he says dryly, lacing his hand with yours.

You don’t comment on his attitude because this how he is. He gets shy from compliments and acts nonchalant. It is the cutest thing.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” he asks.

“I would say normal levels of pain you have to bear as a woman.”

“Fuck, I hate that. If there is anything you need, I’m here.”

“I know. You’re so sweet. I hope that a good soak in warm water will help. Is the book you were reading nice?”

“No, it’s shit. The author keeps mentioning the female protagonists’ breasts. Even during normal scenes.”

“Ew, huge red flag for me. It’s so yucky. Especially when he never does it for his male characters.” 

“Yeah, definitely. It sucks ‘cause the plot sounded so promising. That’s what I get for giving male authors a chance.” 

“Sorry to hear that, my love. It sucks when a supposed good book turns out to be bad.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Wait. That’s weird.”

“What’s the matter?”

“The door’s closed. I kept it open.”

“Maybe you are misremembering?” 

“Maybe.”

This part of the estate is only available to the smallest circle of people. Yoongi, you, Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin. And whenever Seokjin, Emma and Hoseok visit, they are most welcome. Namjoon used it too, once upon a time when everything was different. So whoever might have disturbed the door, did not announce themselves. 

Cautiously, you enter the bathhouse only to be greeted by Hoseok relaxing in the whirlpool with closed eyes. The air smells of salt water and eucalyptus. His clothes are in a pile by the lounge area. Judging by how much steam hangs in the air, he has been here for a while.

“Hoseok?”

He lifts his head and looks at you two.

“Oh. Hey.” 

“What are you doing here? How did you get in here? Since when are you here?” 

“I needed some relaxation. I used my keys. I’ve been here for a while.”

“And you didn’t even say hi?” 

“Sorry. I kinda had a shit day. Just wanted to boil my feelings away before facing other people.”

“Ah damn. What’s the matter?” you ask, taking off your towel so you can join him in the water. 

He follows you with his eyes, “I found out that I didn’t qualify for the freestyle dance competition.”

“Noooo, the one you really wanted to compete in? The one in New York?”

“Yeah, that one.” He sniffles. “Honestly kinda fucked my entire day.” 

“That’s understandable. I’m so sorry to hear that. Did they tell you why?”

“No. Just that my skill level isn’t fitting for the competition.”

“They definitely meant that you’d be too good for it and if you partook then the others wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I doubt it. I guess I just suck.”

“Shut up, you don’t suck. They suck because they’re mean and have no taste.”

He smiles, lowering his eyes.

“Thanks for saying that.”

“I’m serious. Gosh Hobi, I know that we’re naked right now, but do you want a hug?” 

“No, I’m alright.”

“Oh. Alright. Wait. Did you want to be alone? I’m so sorry. I just totally inserted myself into your space right now.”

Hoseok looks at you already in the whirlpool and Yoongi just awkwardly standing by the edge of it. 

“No, this is better. Being alone is so depressive”, he says.

“Are you sure? You can totally tell us to piss off. We would understand.”

“Please stay. It’s nice that you’re here”, he assures you and gives you an honest, very gentle smile. You know that it was honest because it reaches his eyes.

“Alright, then we’ll stay for a while. I need the warmth anyway.”

“Why?”

“Just ovulation pain in my right side.”

“Shit, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I guess.”

“Everyone, don’t look for a moment. I’m coming in”, Yoongi announces to which you both assure him that you wouldn’t. 

He takes off his rope and climbs into the water. You are between them, having at least a meter of distance to either. This is a very big whirlpool, very clean too, and you want to take advantage of the size. It is so nice to spread out and really enjoy the warm bubbling water. 

Yoongi gets comfortable, resting his head against the edge of the pool. The water splashes up his chin every now and then as it bubbles its watery heart out.

“They don’t know what they lost, Hoba. You’re so much better than them”, he says, giving Hoseok one of his signature frowny smiles, which is just incredibly cute and warm.

“Thanks”, Hoseok says and smiles shyly, “That’s nice to hear.”

He settles back and closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh of relaxation. The way his body and face melt, makes you think that your presence helped him get rid of a lot of stress. 

You glance at Yoongi. He also has his eyes closed, relaxing with slightly parted lips. 

You settle back and close your eyes. This is truly what you needed. Warmth, quiet and a moment of shared tranquillity.

At some point the three of you even dozed off. At least you know that you did because when you suddenly become aware of your surroundings again, a chunk of time is missing from your memory. 

You open your eyes. Yoongi is definitely sleeping because his mouth is agape. 

Hoseok opens his eyes at the sound of you moving. He instantly smiles at you.

You retort it, gesturing to your lips to keep your voices down.

“I fell asleep.” 

“Same”, he whispers, “Yoongi’s still out.” 

“I know. It’s cute.” 

“It is. But, wah, I need a break. I feel like I’ve been boiled”, he says and stands up. Water pearls off his body and drips down. He climbs on the bench and sits down on the edge of the pool, keeping his legs in the water. He parts them slightly, resting his arms on his thighs so he can bend forward. “That’s better.” 

You swear that you want to be a respectful woman and yet you still end up scanning your eyes over his naked body. You cannot help it. Your attraction to him is way too strong and the warm water helped turn your ovulation pain into Ovulation Horny. 

Which is simultaneously the best and worst kind of horny to get.

Hoseok’s dark hair is dry in the front but wet in the back, his cheeks are flushed because of the high temperatures and his nipples are just a little pinker than their usual tan colour. Water covers his skin, running down his arms, his chest, his legs, his abs. Even now, when he is relaxing, they are so prominent.

You flit your eyes back to his face. He is looking at you, smirking.

“Don’t”, you murmur and turn away in embarrassment. 

“I’m not saying anything”, he chuckles.

“Your smirk said everything.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who basically just fucked me with her eyes.” 

You splash water at him as quietly as possible. Hoseok laughs softly, lowering his eyes playfully.

“You know, I’m not just eye candy. You can touch too if you want”, he rasps, spreading his legs further. 

You instantly lock eyes with his dick. It is soft right now and his balls seem bigger than normal because of the heat. So sexy how his cock just lays there and glistens from the water. So untouched, so untasted, so tempting. 

You gulp.

“Can…I…really?” you ask hesitantly, meeting his eyes.

“You can. But be quiet. We don’t want to wake Yoongi, do we?”

You glance at the latter, heart speeding up. You know that Yoongi wouldn’t mind – he would definitely encourage it – and yet you are still so nervous all of a sudden. In a good way. It feels as if you and Hoseok are going to do something forbidden, something that will get you in trouble shall you be caught. And this is making you wet.

“Fuck Hobi, I’m legit so horny. It’s the stupid ovulation”, you whine, looking back at Hoseok. 

He chuckles, “all the more reason to come closer.” 

You finally give in. You stand up and wade to him. Hoseok stares at your tits unapologetically. You like that he does. 

“You’re so sexy”, he says.

“Says the right one”, you retort and touch his chest. His pecs twitch.

He puts his hands on your waist, meeting you in the middle for a kiss.

“Before we start”, he purrs against your lips like a tease.

“Hm?”

“Do I have your consent to touch you?”

“Of course you do. Do I have yours?”

“A million percent yes. And the safeword’s snowdrop?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Great, then kiss me.”

This is more than a kiss. This is making out. You and he rub your wet, heated up bodies against each other, feeling and groping the other with restless hands. And the kiss itself is sloppy and charged with way too much mutual tension. 

He turns you on like crazy. He puts so much emphasis on safety and consent and this in itself is already reason enough why you want him frantically. Hoseok is as hot as he is because he is attentive and caring and safe.

But also because every inch of him is beautiful. And so soft. Except maybe his cock. This is definitely not soft. 

Rubbing between your tummies and leaking his desperation, he reminds you just how into you he is. And how starved for cock you are.

“You’re already hard”, you sigh, abandoning his lips to kiss his neck sloppy style. 

Hoseok purrs, rolling his head back to expose more of his sensitive skin. Your tongue feels amazing as it travels along his neck.

“You’re the reason, babygirl.” 

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, gazing down at you with heavy eyes. You meet them, eyelids droopy and lips parted. 

“Yeah”, you purr, showing him your obsession by connecting your tongue with his skin. You drag it down to his chest, moaning at the feeling of him. 

Hoseok exhales shakily, grabbing the edge of the pool and parting his legs. His skin feels charged in electricity, you are the reason for it. If you keep this up, he might have to arch his back. 

You lick his nipple. 

Hoseok arches his back.

How easy it is to give into you. He lets your name dance off his tongue as if it was his favourite word, sliding his right hand to your back. He rubs circles on your soft skin, chest heaving up and down quickly as you flick your tongue over his nipples. 

They are so perky and cute. And so reactive. He is covered in goosebumps and his thighs keep twitching as they threaten to rub together. 

The water ripples as you wander further down his body. His waist fits between your hands as if it was made for you. Your thumbs are on his stomach, feeling his muscles tense and ripple as he chases your mouth.

“Remember how I rode them?”

“Of course.”

“I get so wet thinking of it”, you purr and bite him. Not that he has a lot of softness to bite. Just enough that you feel him between your teeth and he can react in a pleasurable shiver.

His breath speeds up more as you make your way to his cock and it hitches when you finally take him inside. Just his tip. For a second and then he suddenly sits inside you to the very hilt. 

“What the fuck, argh”, he gasps and throws his hand over his mouth to muffle his sounds. His legs twitch, opening as wide as possible. He expected anything but this. His pretty and careful best friend has his entire cock in her mouth. What the actual fuck. 

You slip off him, giving him the kind of look that lets him know you aren’t finished. Your hands rest on his thighs, applying weight. You whisper against his neck and somehow his lips at the same time because you can’t decide where you want to be. 

“They’re always so careful with me. I know you can give me what I want.”

“What’s that?” he asks, eyes droopy and totally mesmerised by you. He swears that he can taste the desire in your words. 

“I wanna get my face fucked. Please Hobi?”

“Yeah”, he squeaks out, nodding his head, “yeah, totally. Yeah, just damn, yeah totally.”

“Yay”, you peck his lips before you are already between his legs again, taking his hands to guide them to the back of your head. You show him what you crave, guiding his hands how you want it to guide you. 

Hoseok bites his lip in order not to moan loudly. He picks up the rhythm you show him, stomach tightening nicely when this makes you moan. You grip his thighs, arching your back submissively. Your drool runs down his shaft and balls, mixing with his addictive taste. 

This is everything you have wanted for years. You appreciate how gentle the others are, you love that they prioritise your comfort. But goddamn, you are always on the sidelines during sloppy face fucks. You get to watch and never participate. You knew that Hoseok would finally give you what you crave. He is still gentle, but it finally feels as if for once your mouth gets used as a fleshlight. 

“You’re such a pretty girl”, he purrs, gaining confidence from your sweet moans. He broadens his stance and tests the waters with one careful thrust of his hips.

You twitch, fleeing him instinctively. He doesn’t get the chance to ask if you were alright because then you are already moaning like a pornstar, pushing yourself down on his cock. He rolls his hips up. You don’t flee him anymore, you take what he gives you even if it bulges your throat.

Your jaw goes slack, your eyes roll back behind your eyelids. His hands on your head feel possessive and controlling, pushing you down as his hips roll up. His tempo is slow. He gives you breaks between each thrust, making you anticipate it with shaky legs. Nobody moves his hips how Hoseok does and right now, he is forcing you to partake in this sinful dance.

“Such a pretty cocksleeve. Aren’t you just the prettiest”, he praises, hoping that you will like this kind of talk.

Your throat tightens around his cock as you mewl happily. You press your ass against nothing. Of course you liked it. Hoseok rewards you with a deep thrust, pushing your head down on his cock. 

“Of course you are, taking cock like such a good toy.”

You spill tears, gagging around him. The break he gives you is appreciated but you don’t slip off. You suck him vigorously, dripping tears and snot. Your head is dizzy. This is the best thing which ever happened to you. You are so happy to finally get your face fucked.

“That’s my good toy. Catch your breath”, he praises you, scratching your scalp. 

You follow his command. You take a deep breath.

“Good girl”, Hoseok purrs, stealing it from you with a deep thrust of his hips. His cock grinds down on your tongue and fills your throat, spilling sweet sin when he is the deepest. 

You groan in surprise, fingers bruising his thighs and body twitching. 

He drags it out of you. Slow to tease. You should feel how it is to have cock slip from your mouth. He keeps his tip inside. He rubs your head. And thrusts right back into you again. Just a little faster than before. You can take him so well, he has to reward you. 

You tremble, wanting to fucking cry. This feels so good. It definitely pushes you to your limits and is a lot more intense than you thought it would be, but it is exactly what makes it so good. You wouldn’t have been able to stand being treated like something fragile today. Not when you are ovulating, not when your head is literally only focused on sex. You need to be pushed to your limits, otherwise you wouldn’t get over your desperation. 

Hoseok thrusts into you and stays there, pushing your head down. You gag and gag and gag, scratching his thighs as he makes you fear for your sanity. 

“One. Two. Three”, he pulls you off of him on the count of three, hair tightly between his fingers.

You are disoriented, drooling and crying as he tugs you up to his face. He cradles it, pupils widened in desire. You are swaying, eyes just slightly crossed.

“Swallow, that’s it. Breathe and swallow, that’s it.” 

You don’t know how you are able to follow his commands. You are high and droopy.

“That’s my girl”, he praises you and pulls you into a sloppy tongue kiss. You instantly begin to meet him, licking into his mouth like a woman starved. He chuckles, purring in enjoyment. Who would have thought that his pretty best friend has such a willing face to fuck and that she is so good at it.

“Are you two actually fucking serious?” Yoongi breaks the silence.

You gasp, slipping off of Hoseok as quickly as possible just to look over your shoulder. Hoseok is gawking too, eyes widened.

“I let myself go one time. One bloody fucking time and you go ahead and fuck?” Yoongi is scolding you and Hoseok, using his fond voice for it.

“We tried to be quiet.”

“That’s a shitty excuse”, Yoongi pushes himself off the bench, standing up. Water pearls off his body, his semi hard dick peeks out.

“You’re…”

“...expecting you to continue? Correct. Go on, suck him off. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“What are you gonna do to me?”

Yoongi reaches your side, caging you in his strong arms. His naked chest presses into your back, his cock rubs your ass. He kisses your neck, hands cupping your tits possessively.

“What am I gonna do to you? Getting my dick wet another way of course”, he rasps against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He pinches your nipples, making you squeak and tense. He does it again just to make it hurt a little.

“Yoongi”, you mewl, heart racing a million beats per second. Having one sexy man totally smitten for you is already hot enough, but having two will be your end. Especially because it is Yoongi and Hoseok. Those two together are a lethal combination. 

Yoongi chuckles in amusement, kissing your ear before he shifts his darkened eyes to Hoseok.  

He slaps his cock. Hard.

“Ah! Fuck”, Hoseok gasps, biting his lower lip. His legs press together, cock throbbing. The pain is sharp and intense, forcing him to bend forward.

“That’s for sneaking behind my back.”

Slap.

Hoseok both moans and whimpers, twitching in pleasurable pain.

“And that’s for doing it without me.” 

Slap.

“Fuck. Yoongi..aahm…” 

“That’s because I wanted to.” He purrs and slides his hand to the back of your neck so he can rub it. “It’s all yours again.”

“This was so hot. Oh god, I’m so into this”, you mewl, lowering yourself happily. 

Hoseok is hot on your tongue, pulsing as a result of getting slapped repeatedly. He tastes so much richer and needier, coating your tongue in thick pearls of desperation.

He moans loudly, rolling his hips and gripping the edge with one hand. The other comes to rest on the back of your head, petting you gently. 

“You gotta go slow. I’m sensitive now.”

You purr, nodding your head. You wouldn’t listen on other nights because it is so much fun to make him lose control, but you want to drag it out tonight. You want it to last longer because it means that you will be able to have him for longer as well. 

Besides, Yoongi has barely even started and you want this experience to hit as hard as possible. This can only happen when you have Hoseok’s tasty cock in your mouth and Yoongi’s veiny dick in your pussy.

So you listen to Hoseok and go slow. No sucking, no licking, just kisses for now. Gentle, slow, featherlight. On his tip, his veins, his shaft, his balls, inner thighs and stomach. So many kisses. 

“You feel so amazing”, Hoseok encourages you.

“Keep going, princess. You look so pretty sucking cock”, Yoongi motivates you, touching himself to the view. 

You mewl, drooling on Hoseok’s dick happily. This is truly what life is about. Sucking dick, being praised, getting adored.

“Go ahead, Hoba. Tell her what’s happening right now.” 

Hoseok peels his eyes open, twitching at the view. Yoongi’s hair is slicked back, exposing his defined brows and incredibly handsome face. His eyes are lowered like that of a hunting cat, fucking both you and Hoseok. His right arm and pec keep tensing as he pumps his own cock. Hoseok’s eyes linger on his hand. It looks so big around his length, veiny and masculine. 

“He is-”, Hoseok clears his croaky throat. It is difficult to talk when his cock is getting licked and he gets to watch Yoongi masturbate. “He is touching himself.”

You moan around his dick, sending shakes through his legs. 

“He is so hard already. Ah ___ please stop moaning.” 

You mewl, which isn’t better.

“I swear I’m so close. Let me breathe, please.”

You slip off of him, stilling your hunger by licking and sucking his abs. You grip his waist for it, moaning needily. Hoseok is panting, mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he is trying to make sense of how good you feel. Or how hot Yoongi looks for that matter.

“Go on, Hoba”, the latter encourages him, slapping his own cock into his own palm, “keep talking. Don’t be shy now.”

“Shy? You’re supposed to be shy, what’s gotten into you?” 

Yoongi chuckles, “I’m comfortable”, he states matter-of-factly and shifts his eyes to your ass. “Keep going, princess. You’re such a good girl.” 

He caresses your soft buttocks, ending it with a possessive squeeze. One second of it and then he lands a surprise spank, making you moan loudly and accidentally squeeze Hoseok’s dick.

“Yoongi, please”, Hoseok begs, earning himself a dark, playful look from the older man. 

“Don’t you dare cum, Hoba. Hear me?”

“Fuck, aaaahmmm”, Hoseok mewls, tilting his head back.

Truth be told, Yoongi has been awake for quite some time. Watching. Observing. Enjoying. He watched Hoseok roll his head back and his eyelids flutter, he watched him arch his back and helplessly grab the back of your head. All while your naked, beautiful body moved sensually. And it drove Yoongi mad. He cannot deny it anymore that being a sneaky voyeur turns him on. Especially when it’s his pretty woman and his pretty best friend.

He spanks your ass again, watching in delight how you squeeze Hoseok’s cock and how the latter reacts with a needy squirm.

“Please, I’m serious.” 

“Try harder”, Yoongi orders him in a mean voice before he shifts to you, caressing your sore buttock, “and you just keep going, princess. What a good girl you are”, he praises, using his soft voice.

“Why are you mean to me but not her?” Hoseok whines.

“You gotta ask? You’re fucking my woman behind my back”, Yoongi snarls, making Hoseok mewl and throb in your hand. He knows that Yoongi is only playing into the situation. That he is only pretending to be angry because The Forbidden is the hottest thing ever.

“Hyung”, Hoseok chokes out, making Yoongi smirk lopsidedly.

“But that’s alright, I’m still the one to get her pretty pussy. Isn’t that right, princess?”

You nod your head vigorously, pressing your ass back against Yoongi’s thighs. He rests his heavy cock on your back, rubbing it back and forth. He almost loses his vision when his cock disappears inside your warm mouth again.

“Yeah, that’s right. All mine”, he purrs, running his fingers through your folds to check your readiness. You are practically dripping on him. Yoongi gives into the temptation and slides his middle and ring finger into your empty pussy. He curls and scissors them, meeting Hoseok’s eyes cockily when this makes you whimper. 

“You hear that, Hoba?” 

Hoseok nods his head, eyes switching between Yoongi’s face, his cock and his hand. 

“That’s the noises she makes when I touch her. You fucking get that? I’m the reason she sounds like such a happy slut”, he hisses and curls his fingers especially good against your sensitive spot, forcing you to react in a whimpered moan around Hoseok’s cock.

“I-I get that.”

“Good”, Yoongi says and guides his cock to your dripping pussy. 

“Wait. Your fingers”, Hoseok gasps. 

“What? You think I don’t know my woman?” Yoongi challenges feeding your cunt his cock while his fingers are still inside. 

“Mhm!” you are keening around Hoseok, slamming your hands on his waist just to grip him for support. You push back onto Yoongi, spilling tears from the intense and satisfying stretch. Hoseok curses in realisation, gawking down at you. 

You like it. You like being stretched to your limits. 

“She comes to me when she is desperate, Hoseok-ah. She begs me when she needs cock. I’m the one she needs when her panties are soaked and closing her legs would fucking hurt.” He bottoms out and pulls out instantly just to slam his hips into you to feed you his cock. 

You whimper, slipping off Hoseok’s cock to press your face into his crotch and sob Yoongi’s name.

“I know exactly what she can fucking take. So shut the fuck up and enjoy the show”, he spits, making you tremble with a curl of his fingers and his cock right against them. 

Hoseok swears that his soul might need to leave his body. He never witnessed Yoongi like this before. He knows that he is possessive even if he refuses to show it. He also knows that touching you the wrong way gets people’s hands ripped off. But fuck, witnessing it live in such a sinful setting makes Hoseok’s head turn. 

“Yoongi”, you sob right against Hoseok’s dick and he swears that this might be the first time a simple name will make him climax.

“That’s it, princess. Let him know who fucks you so good”, Yoongi encourages you, gripping bundles of your ass to really drive the message across. You are entirely exposed to him like this. Yoongi’s cock throbs inside you at the view. You are taking him so well, making his dick glisten sinfully. 

“Yoongi”, you moan on Hoseok’s dick, following it up with dumb, slutty licks. Hoseok wants to close his eyes, but he is scared to do so. He doesn’t want to miss out on anything. 

He is glad that he didn’t as he watches Yoongi spit on your hole and pick it up with his thumb. His hand is big enough that it is easy for him to give it to you on both ends. 

“Take his cock back inside, love.”

You obey him, holding his base with both hands as you whimper in excitement. 

“That’s it. Let him feel your moans”, he praises and rewards you by pushing his slickened thumb into your tight hole. 

Yoongi is the meanest person you have ever known. No matter how far away you get from him, how much you like it with other people, he will always - fucking always - manage to remind you why he is the one you need when nothing else helps. Because nobody else plays your ovulating, horny body as he does. 

He gives you a second to get used to the intense penetration, rubbing your lower back soothingly. He keeps his fingers curled against your g-spot, keeping his thumb still as he stretches you slowly. 

“Watch out for when she pinches you, Hoba. I need you to tell me to stop when she does”, he says and picks up a rhythm with his hips, “hear that, princess? Give him a pinch if you’ve had enough.”

You mewl and sob, answering him by bopping your head up and down Hoseok’s cock. This was your way of telling him that you understood, but that you don’t need it anytime soon. Definitely never. It feels so good to have all your holes stuffed. It feels so fucking good. And Hoseok is so delicious. Oh god, you need cock. You need cock. You love cock. You love this. 

“Good girl. Fuck your face with him. I’m okay with that, I got the rest of you.”

“I’m serious, I’m really fucking sensitive”, Hoseok complains, abs tensing constantly, and toes curling. The water keeps spilling over the edge of the pool because of Yoongi’s passionate thrusts. If this continues, it might not be the only thing spilling messily because of him. 

“I know you’re sensitive”, Yoongi dismisses him, meeting his eyes. 

The pull between them is inescapable. They both feel it. Yoongi steps closer, keeping his cock buried deep inside. Hoseok meets him in the middle, putting both hands on Yoongi’s head to pull him close. 

The kiss they share is beyond sinful and quite honestly fucking nasty. They lick and suck, both using their deeper voice to moan and feeding the other their spit. Hoseok claws and grips at Yoongi as if he needed it to survive. Yoongi lets him, taking out his frustration on you with deep, skilled thrusts. 

You are far away. Truly, you are so far away. But the noises of their sloppy kisses still meet your ears. You can’t see what they are doing, but you can imagine it. They are caging you in, using your holes and feeding you delicious cock and now they are kissing. 

You don’t want it to happen. You really thought that you were better than this. But the sex is so good and they are so hot. They make you climax against your will. 

Yoongi feels it, having to break the kiss to look down at you. 

“Princess”, he groans, taking a deep breath afterwards just to release it in a guttural moan with an arch of his back. 

Hoseok chases him, head pounding and eyes barely wanting to stay open. He is clasping his shoulders for support, hanging onto him. He has no idea why Yoongi stopped kissing him, but he needs more. 

“Cum on my cock, that’s my woman.”

“Oh”, Hoseok finally gets it, tensing up, “___, I’m cumming. I’m sorry, I can’t stop. Ah!” 

He seriously couldn’t hold back anymore. Not when you are having an orgasm and this is so hot to him. His own excitement was his downfall. His own sensitivity is his ruin because you don’t stop sucking him as he empties his heavy balls down your throat. On the contrary, you suck him as if your life depended on it, moaning needily because the taste of him makes you want to cum again. 

You rut back onto Yoongi, squeezing him so tightly that it makes him growl and fletch his teeth. He slides his left hand to your clit and pinches her, giving you what you need. Quite frankly, nobody talks. The spa is filled with a series of sinful moans, needy whimpers, helpless gasps and possessive growls. The sound of restless water and skin slapping against skin mixes with it. Steam fogs up the windows, the tiled artworks get their own private show of passion. One they might not be able to forget for quite some time.

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to have tortured you enough to bring you over the edge a second time. Hoseok’s cock slips out of your mouth because you have to scream. His cum spills all over his stomach as you hide away in it, hugging him desperately.

“That’s it, princess. Scream. Let go, such a good girl”, Yoongi talks you through it, leaving open mouthed kisses on your shoulders and upper back. Your pretty hole is convulsing around his thumb, your pussy is so tight around his cock and digits and your clit throbs between his fingers. “Don’t you hold back, you’re doing so well.”

It takes you three hard thrusts to have enough. He milked you dry, gave you everything you craved and more. You are fucking spend. 

“No more, please no more.” 

“Mhm, good girl”, Yoongi praises you and pulls his hands away. He straightens up, sticking his creamed fingers into his own mouth to suck them desperately. He still rolls his hips into you, chasing his own high in your pulsating cunt. Your taste is heaven to him, making his eyes roll back and his legs shake. 

“Are you alright?” Hoseok has the task of checking on you. You claw yourself up his body, finding your support by hooking your hands behind his neck. 

“Hoseok”, you whimper, eyes red and teary staring at him with happy submission.

“Look at me, Yoongi’s almost done”, he talks you through the blissful overstimulation, caressing your cheeks, “he’s sucking his own fingers, babygirl. I’m so jealous, I just know that they taste so good.”

Yoongi moans, sending him a happy look because Hoseok’s dirty talk makes you clench down on him. Hoseok gets an idea. Deepening the eye contact with Yoongi, he begins to pick up the cum you drooled all over his stomach. He slickens his fingers with it and spreads it all over his own lips, ending it by sucking off the rest and sticking his tongue out. It sits right there, waiting to be tasted.

“Hobi…” you gasp. 

“Hoba”, Yoongi moans, closing the distance. Their hot bodies cage you in, you get an up-close view of their needy kiss. Yoongi licks into Hoseok’s mouth, feasting on the sin he prepared for him. His hips are sloppy, barely wanting to move. So you do it for him, bouncing yourself on his dick as best as the constricted position allows it. 

Yoongi’s voice,8 once deep and throaty, pitches more and more the closer he gets. The kiss breaks when he is one second away from it. 

“You’re making me cum”, he chokes out, pulling Hoseok to him and therefore hugging you close as well. He drops his temple against Hoseok’s lips, keeping his own lips pressed against the bridge of your nose as he releases his warm heaven deep inside you.

He whimpers at first then the first wave of unbearable electricity passes and he chases the fading high with deep growls and sharp thrusts. 

Seven times he does. Seven times and then he has to pull out to kiss you. And kiss Hoseok. And kiss you. And kiss Hoseok. Just as you have to kiss him back and kiss Hoseok and, and, and. While Hoseok kisses Yoongi and then kisses you and then, then, then. At one point you could have sworn that you somehow ended up kissing both of them at the same time. It isn’t entirely clear because the three of you just needed to kiss each other until the electric aftershocks passed and clarity returned.

“Fucking hell”, Yoongi gets out, dropping on the bench and letting his head fall against the edge of it, “you two are dangerous.”

“I could say the same”, Hoseok says, slipping back into the water and taking you into his arms. 

You sink gladly, barely keeping your eyes open. 

“Yeah, same. I…tired.”

Hoseok and Yoongi look at you, chuckling at the same time. Yoongi closes the distance and rubs your thigh under the water while Hoseok lets you rest against his chest. 

“How are you doing, princess?”

“Mhm so happy.”

“Yeah? Does anything hurt?”

“No, nothing. Just really tired.”

“Relax, babygirl. We’re right here”, Hoseok assures you to which Yoongi hums and kisses your cheek. He spreads his kisses on your shoulder and upper back as well.

“You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

You grin happily, giving both of them a very sleepy but giddy look. You snuggle deeper into Hoseok’s embrace, lacing your fingers with Yoongi. 

“Thank you for fucking me. Like…all of me basically. I needed this so much.”

They laugh, melting closer to you because they are two men obsessed. Yoongi kisses the tip of your shoulder, ending it with a little hickey. While Hoseok trails kisses up and down your forehead.

“Always happy to help.”

“I think we need to change the water”, you lull.

“Yeah definitely. That’s actually so disgusting”, Yoongi agrees and pushes the white layer of his release away from him, “that’s why you’re dangerous ‘cause you get me to nut in water. Why was I so nasty?”

“You’re hot when you’re nasty”, you say and close your eyes happily.

“Hard agree. No joke, Imma start using a diary just to process how you acted”, Hoseok jokes, making Yoongi laugh. 

“Alright, fun’s over. I’m leaving”, he says, standing up. 

“What? No stay”, you whine. 

“I’m not gonna stay in my own cum water”, he laughs, “besides your hands are already wrinkly, you should definitely take a break too.”

“Fine, but only if one of you carries me to the lounge.”

Yoongi sighs in defeat and picks you up easily, “come here you”, he says, stepping out of the water. You grin at him, kicking your legs happily. Hoseok chuckles, following you with the towels. 

“I feel like a princess”, you snicker. 

“You are”, Yoongi retorts, laying you down on the soft blanket and stealing a kiss.