dream.

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

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“What’s taking you so long!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the nights that made you more than hesitant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a fucking lie. 

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

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

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

“Says the man who’s practically naked.” 

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Never again. 

Never, ever, ever again.

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

You extend ten minutes into fifteen. 

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

—

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanna go outside?

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

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

Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.  

—

—

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart. 

It booms. 

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

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

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

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

Yoongi. 

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

And with a stopped heart, neither are you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were ready. 

He wasn’t. 

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

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

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

Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye. 

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

—

—

You readily down two glasses of water. 

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

—

—

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

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

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

Maybe not as high as it could go. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

“Come on!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mm. That still sounds like a backup option. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”  

—

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”

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

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

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

Oh… Really… 

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

Waves you off. 

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

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

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

Your heart looks up before you do.  

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

…Towards you? 

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

—

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

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

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

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

You aren't alone in being alone.

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

Then it starts.

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

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

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

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

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

Night, after night, after night. 

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

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

“One last time.” 

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

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

And he feels so perfect against you it hurts. 

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

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

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

He never loved you. You never said goodbye. 

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

Yoongi… Still feels like home. 

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

But he doesn’t. 

Of course he doesn’t. 

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

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

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

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

Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes. 

The song dies. 

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

And you need nothing else but to leave. 

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

And you finally get the courage to whisper his name. 

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

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

What is happening? What’s he doing? 

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

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

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

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

Have mercy.

Your soul finally snaps in two. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. This is the man you remember. 

And that just makes everything hurt even more. 

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

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

“Yoongi, what are you—?”

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

Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this. 

Just like you have. 

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

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

...What? 

No. No no no. 

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

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

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

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

Oh. Fuck that. 

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

“Even if I t—”

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

“Fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You're lying.”

“All fuckin' night."

“Liar.”

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

“I’d never lie to you.” 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” 

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost as if nothing’s changed. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

“I know.”

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

You know your underwear is soaked all the way through. 

And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”

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

“Are you still on the—”

“Yes.”

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

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

“Yoongi, please—”

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

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

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

“Don’t do that.”

“Oh, I—”

“Do that shit again and I’ll come.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got you.”

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

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

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

“Baby.” 

You flick your gaze back up to his. 

“Stay with me.”

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

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

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

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

“Still so beautiful.”

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

“You look so fucking good in red.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, too.” 

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

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

“Before you left.”

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

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

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

He never told you many things.

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, you’re so tight—”

“So fucking big—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—yours.”

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, baby..”

“You asked for it.”

“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe—”

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

“Yoongi—”

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

“Yoongi—!” 

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

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

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

“Come for me, love.”

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

“I said come.”

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

Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat. 

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

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

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

“Fuck it, come here.” 

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

“Again.” 

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

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

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

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

“Let me pull—”

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

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

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

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

“One last time.”

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

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

Why is he so quiet? 

Why are you so quiet? 

Why do you feel like crying again? 

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

“I know it’s over.”

Your heart flares.

“But I need you to know.”

Stars light the night sky.

“I love you. And I always will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat constricts again.

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

“Yoongi…”

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

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

So you also let everything go. 

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

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

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

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

And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise. 

—

—

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

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

“How did you know to come up here?” 

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

Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”

“Not for the reasons you think.”

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

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

What. 

Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

Everything else clicks into place. 

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

“...You're the one that got us VIP.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

Holy fucking shit.

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

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

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

“Ugh, here we go.”

“Already at it again, huh.”

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

“Get another room—!”

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

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

In a beautiful, unforgettable dance. 

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fin :)

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hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist

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

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

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

nsfw warnings: yoongi nsfw pov :))), oral (f rec), unprotected, choking, slapping, egging on because it's yoongi, multiple orgasms, ......love making................., protected, multiple rounds bc they're in fuckin' love what can i SAY!, yoongi's mouth is a warning?, reader's reactions are also a warning??, anyway, chains again, and so much care too<33   

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You ignore him and get right to work. And he feels like absolute shit. 

Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you running? Why are you choosing to stay when he’s been nothing but ice cold? 

Garbage bag in hand, you waste no time gathering up his mania. Do you even see the blood? Do you not care about what just happened?

No. It’s not that you don’t care. 

It’s that you care too much. 

Instead of leaving him to drown, you dive in right after him, swimming deeper and deeper and not caring about saving yourself. And as Yoongi can only stand there, he feels unable to move. Unable to breathe. Waiting for you to turn around and go back up for air but you don’t and it’s killing him. 

It’s when you come back with a broom that he finally snaps into action, gripping your hand that holds the handle and exhaling at your hot touch. 

You’re too good to him. “Stop.”

“No.”

Which makes this so fucking hard to watch. “Just go, please.”

“No.”

Fuck. Your stubbornness stabs into his chest. Over, and over, Yoongi can’t bear to have you witness this yet he’s pained just begging you to leave. It’s layers and layers of hurt and frustration but you. Keep. Swimming. 

Don’t drown with him. Don’t follow him into the dark. 

The crinkle of glass surrounds your feet and it’s too much to bear. He can’t even feel his toes he feels so numb, but having you see all of this pains him to no end because he’d been trying so hard to keep this side of himself from your welling eyes. 

How foolish. 

But if you’re gonna stay, at least let him clean his own shit. Aren’t you supposed to be home? At Yuri’s? Your brother is just as cut and banged up as he is, shouldn’t you be there with him instead? “I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” As you yank the broom further from his control, you growl out a command so potent Yoongi can’t even push back, “So sit down.”

Sit down? He’d rather do anything else right now. Kiss you. Make you leave. Grab hold of you and never go anywhere else. 

In the end, he can’t do shit. Because you’re a beautiful tempest and he’s letting your storm run free in his living room. It’s for good, for good, for good. Fuck, everything hurts. This is all for good. 

That is all he can tell himself before dumping his battered body at his dining table. 

With each piece you pick up, one by one, you clean out his wounds, you suck up the pain that’s festered for so long with tear-soaked cheeks and spit it all out with your quiet rage. 

The adrenaline from facing serious injury and possibly something worse still courses through Yoongi’s veins. He can’t even sit still, fidgeting in his chair and raking shaky hands through damp strands. 

With one look at your face scrunched with worry, he can’t take it anymore. You have to leave. You have to, have to, have to. Caging you next to his dining table, he stops your strides with finality. “You’ve done enough.” 

“I still need to—” 

“Just.” He looks away from your tears. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.” 

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

If nothing else is working? There is one way to do this. A way that will change how you perceive him and not in a positive light at all. Light would require at least some semblance of warmth or care. This solution is completely void of it. 

It’s only five words. Only six syllables. But all of them sting and poison him on the way out, because this is downright caustic, 

“Who said I needed it?” 

You immediately recoil.

Shit, shit, shit, this isn’t him. This is fucking ludicrous but he can’t stop himself from surging forward with muck on his legs.

“Yoongi, what? Are you serious?” 

“You think I’m joking?” 

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?” 

“I say a lot of things.” 

Fuck. That wasn’t what he…

…Fuck.

Well. That’s it then. You’re smart, way smarter than you give yourself credit for. Which means you’ll pick up on that vibrant red flag he just swung with both arms and abandon him completely tonight. 

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in a way that tells him he’s two seconds from getting snapped into pieces. And Yoongi knows he damn well deserves it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start to… organize his things? “Like how perfect I am.” You keep going, shifting things around with a tone so alarming his heart may have beat a little. “And how there’s no one else.” 

After a second, you face him again. And it seems like you are wanting to sling heat around too because you know what you’re saying isn’t true and it’s pissing him off. “Those are just words, too, huh?” 

You are perfect. There is no one else. 

If those were just words he wouldn’t have risked his life to—

What a fucking shit show. He can’t speak of what went down tonight so this is going nowhere. 

With this insane dilemma looming over his head, Yoongi is fully aware his next laugh is anything but nice. “Nah… Not tonight.” 

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

“The fuck we aren’t. Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head, hiding the very obvious cuts that he’s starting to feel more and more the longer this scathing verbal sparring goes on. “But you’re going home.” 

Laced in this silence, there’s still rage. There’s still passion, and it’s a fine line because he hates himself for getting to this point and he doesn’t understand why you’re still here and won’t leave him. So stubborn, so like him, so unbelievably loyal and good and everything he needs to be. 

But you say something that lights his chest and kicks his brain into gear, because he can’t even believe you continue with complete nonsense, 

“So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.” 

Both feet firmly planted and shoulders rising a little higher, Yoongi faces you head on, feeling the most alert he’s been since you rushed in. The fire in his chest licks at his lungs, propelling smoke all the way to his ears. “You’re gonna go there?” 

Your response is immediate. “I am.” 

And it takes everything inside of him to not explode. Treating you like everyone else? You know that’s bullshit. So if you’re just saying all this to fuck with him, it’s fucking working. The only thing he can come back with is a single syllable because if he says anything else, it’s gonna lead to hell fast. “Wow.” 

Suddenly, you dig into the offensive, the chasm between the two of you shaking under the weight of your argument, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?” 

“Do you even know?” 

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!” 

“That’s cus—” 

Fire spews from your lips, scorching everything at his feet and rendering him speechless yet again, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” 

Fuck. Yoongi knows this, he’s the one that started this whole conversation in Jimin’s car—

“If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s all coming back. Everything he did led to this, including not telling you shit, and you’re more hurt than he even imagined. The self-loathing has reached a new high, and he can feel blood from where his teeth bite into his tongue. 

Didn’t he just kill the shadow in his room? Why is he still struggling to breathe?

“And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…” 

Yoongi can’t do anything but stare, and stare, and stare some more. 

He’d been so focused on getting you out of there and keeping everyone safe that he didn’t even think about how afraid you were. How terrified you were after you left in screams and tears that he can still hear ringing about his head. 

“You know what?” Your empty laugh sends shivers to his fingertips. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

And Yoongi finally snaps with another flitter of sparks. Because he is and he knows but this isn’t how he wants to speak to you. Not with a canyon of hurt and desperation between your hearts. “I swear to—I just said not tonight.” 

“No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.” 

…What? 

No. No, no, no, that’s not what he means. You gotta take him at face value. He just means not tonight so you don’t have to see him at his lowest and he doesn’t want to show this monstrous side of him that’s hurting you all over again. “Are you serious?” 

But why would you take him at face value? Why would you give him any slack right now? He sure as fuck doesn’t deserve it with the way he’s treating you. Fuck, he’s even slipping on things he would never do. What the fuck is wrong with him?  

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.” 

This is what he wants, right? This is what he was fighting you for this entire time? He got what he wanted. You’re going back up for air. 

Now he just has to seal your decision the only way he can. Because nothing else has worked so far and he’s been too cowardly—or just fucking sensical—to go here. 

But with a vice clamped around his lungs, he does. Blackout shutters around his soul, Yoongi utters a sentence he would never, in any other circumstance, ever say to you. A question that sends white hot tears to the corners of his tired eyes. 

“Who asked you?” 

Ice fills the chasm between. 

Your eyes penetrate into the deepest parts of him, staring him down like he’s a stranger and rightfully so because this isn’t him. Fuck, this isn’t—this isn’t him and he is crumbling into ashes at your feet but he can’t bear to let you witness him like this another second. 

When your response shakes, Yoongi feels his heart give out. “Who asked me? Who asked me.” 

This is the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life. “That’s what I said.” 

How is he still on both feet when you’re looking at him like that? Your silence carves out his heart, but this is how to finally get you to leave. To run. To rid yourself of this burden sinking him lower, and lower, and lower.

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.” 

Rock bottom. It hurts.

None of the hits he took tonight compare to the anguish this is putting him through. Absolutely nothing will. Yoongi is starting to fight out of his own chains because he can’t stand being in them. 

The damage has already been done but he’s drowning now. Get out. Claw a way out!

Dead silence rings in his ears, reaching a stinging buzz and crashing into the sound of rain and thunder. His body is thrashing out of his mind and clawing a way to the surface. 

But you drift further. And further. And further. The waves between you both crest high and fall fast, and Yoongi’s vision swims as he sways. You’re almost gone. Good. Good. You’re almost gone for good. 

…For good? 

No. No no no, that’s the farthest thing from good fuck fuck fuck. 

Yoongi can’t even recall his body tearing through the ocean of his living room so fast but he’s already at the door, slamming it shut and grasping your body for dear life. It all happens so swiftly that his fingers catch between your back and solid wood, his nails stinging from the pain and his ears ringing from your outright shouting—

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—” 

The heart in his chest plummets with each weak thump of your hands. “Whoa, hold u—” 

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—” 

Yoongi’s finally alert. He’s awake. He’s staying afloat and now he needs to pull you ashore because you are flailing in your own current of emotion. It takes everything for him to think straight and just get you to— “Just listen—” 

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—” 

Thank god. 

Doing the one thing that may shut you up and quell your worries, Yoongi smashes his lips against yours, pushing into you so hard water leaks from his eyes. Because you still have to go at some point, which means this could be his last taste in a long time. “I swear to—” 

You almost lost him. 

Which means he almost left you behind. 

What the fuck is he doing fighting you?

Anger from today and frustration with himself seize the reins, and he yanks you back to have you against another wall. There’s madness skimming along his bones and firing in his bloodstream. And Yoongi welcomes all the energy you’re unleashing in return, raking through his hair and his skin and blowing his eyes all the way out. 

He doesn’t even recognize his voice as he rips out a question, “Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

“No.”  

When you shove him back, Yoongi can feel his soul go obsidian, welcoming the way you tug him into a ravaging kiss, tearing at your clothes because he can’t stand to be even one layer beyond your skin. 

What the fuck is happening? You have to leave. Didn’t he just fight for you to go? What’s his body doing? Suddenly his hand is around your throat and his heart booms at the spark in your eyes. Fuck, he needs you. Fucking hell, why do you have to be so fucking devoted? “Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

“When has that ever stopped us.” 

Don’t say shit like that. 

Yoongi drags you backward and into his dining table, careful to not trip you up on the way. As much as he’s relishing your rebellion, there’s a part of him that’s still terrified. “He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” His hand lets off your throat now. And for a second, he can’t speak. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.” 

Gripping a bit tighter again, Yoongi gives out of control at your groan. Fucking shit, this is breaking him down so fast and you didn’t even have to do anything. All you had to do was defy his words and call every single fucking bluff he had. 

Because he wanted nothing more than for you to be right here. Nothing else matters. Not the wounds on his body, not the catastrophe of his place, not the thunder and rain outside.  

Only you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.” 

You meet his eyes with fire. 

“Are you.” 

The look on your face tells him everything he needs to know. No words are exchanged as the atmosphere sparks and fizzles, and yet, Yoongi understands every single fucking word. 

The moment you walked in, Yoongi had already lost. “Goddamn it.” 

Giving into the most primal of urges, the most savage of needs, tension snaps with a burst of orange and red. Claws and fangs glint in the night, rage and passion clutching each other before crashing down together. 

Devouring you and letting you have your way with him is ecstatic, a high, all consuming and Yoongi doesn’t know when anger morphs into desperation. But it does, it does, it does, and the outpouring of frustration and relief and realization that you’re here is draining him exactly how he wants. 

Taking while being taken. Worshipping while being worshipped. Everything he’d been feeling over the last three months funnels into this very moment and spills out of his system like an open, gushing wound. Toxins and pain runneth over, releasing and freeing and letting his bones free to stretch and grow again. Though battered and bruised, Yoongi feels whole again. Like he never was, or always was? With you. 

Was this all he had to do? 

All he had to do was let you in? 

You come undone, then you unravel beneath him again. The sight he thought he’d never see again unfolds in front of his very eyes and Yoongi drinks you in like a man starved on the brink of collapse. Maybe he still fucking is, because the burn he feels in his body won’t quell. The pain in his soul won’t ebb. The sobs in his ear won’t stop. 

Wait, fuck fuck, that’s you? “Baby.” 

You don’t quit, so he calls you again. And when nothing else works, Yoongi cracks out your name with a snap and grabs your chin to bring you back. Shit, he should’ve been paying attention. 

Fuck, you look so exhausted. He knows he’s responsible for that pain in your eyes. That anguish in your brows. But Yoongi will deal with that once you’re coherent and present again.

It takes you a bit to come back to him, but you do like the strong, fierce one you are. Fuck, you’re incredible even in your weakest moments. Something he’s come to love and aspire to match. 

When you beg him to not kick you out, Yoongi feels chains tug his heart taut. Pulled in so many directions, he feels the need to take deep breaths himself, and he’s so caught up in your pleas that he births a new nickname that has his brain spiraling,

“Breathe, angel.”

No time to think about that now. The only real explanation for him saying it out loud is the fact he’s thought it so many times his brain decided it needed to be set free. 

You tell him he’s perfect the way he is, and Yoongi falters. Everything you say while in his arms and fighting tears will be burned in his memory forever, and he’ll let those words carry him onto softer shores, sparkling and welcoming just like you. 

He doesn’t even realize he starts to cry until you tell him it’s okay. And he lets himself rest in the solace of your embrace until he remembers that you came in through the pouring rain. 

When you offer to share the blame? That’s when Yoongi can’t fight it anymore. This beautiful, blooming soul in his arms is radiating enough light to wash away his darkness. He has no choice but to surrender to you—his life, his devotion, his everything. 

Of course you would offer to share the blame. It’s so inherently you that Yoongi’s emotions run down with the shower spray, and he clutches onto you like life would stop as soon as he let go. 

Water. Sunlight. Warmth. 

From the mud in his chest, reaching up towards his beloved, Yoongi finally feels new life bloom. 

—

—

Darkness no longer clouds the edges of his eyes, and he can see moonlight crisper and more ethereal than he’d ever seen it before. Washed ashore, lying still, and staring at a sea of stars, Yoongi thinks his view almost looks as pretty as you. But he realizes this is because it is you. He’s there in your eyes, amongst those flecks of light. It’s breathtaking. It’s… 

You give him a tiny smile before turning to leave his bedroom. And Yoongi follows with his vision swimming. 

This feeling… 

You’re both in the kitchen now, his feet planted on warm tile as you grab your phone to do whatever’s in that beautiful brain of yours. God, you’re ethereal just standing there, so gorgeous, so present. His life’s most precious gift. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—” 

Yoongi watches as you give him a once over. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.” 

As you speak, he can’t offer anything. He can’t even move, because something is growing in his chest and it’s starting to feel like he’ll burst. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…” 

This feeling… It’s an urge. It’s an irrevocable emotion. 

It’s all you. All Yoongi sees is you. Light. Shine. Glow. The rainbow that came after the rain, casting color and new life into his dulled existence and clearing his mind of all sludge. His ribs are battered, but this has been the easiest he can breathe. 

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?” 

How does that even make sense? How do you manage to make him second guess his life at every turn? He can be happy, even if it doesn’t make sense now. 

Your radiance is just beyond his cracked, clawed walls, and this need to fight his way out is stronger than it’s ever been. You deserve his best. You want every piece of him. 

Every version of him.

Throat burning and breath short, Yoongi runs across his mind, footsteps unimpeded towards the door he’s been waiting behind, clenching his fist around the knob and yanking it all the way open to pull himself through without resistance and turning towards the shimmering expanse across his eyes. 

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—” 

And sunlight conquers the dark. 

“I love you.” 

You stop as soon as his heart thrums, pulsing with purpose, with the intention of keeping him full and alive because that’s exactly how he feels. 

Alive.

You question what he says, but Yoongi doesn’t answer with words. The emotion pooling in his eyes will have to suffice, because if he says what he really wants to say? You’d probably run from how ahead of himself he really is. 

So instead, surrounded by a kitchen that has seen the worst and best of him, Yoongi simply repeats out loud what’s been fact for months now, 

“I love you, doll.”

It’s okay that you don’t move. It’s okay if you don’t say anything back. 

He almost lost you. And you may have almost lost him had it not been for everyone else there. To even be able to confess is a blessing in itself, and even if you don’t reciprocate, Yoongi is more than fine with that. Because he’s still on this earth, in this lifetime, and this version of him was able to find this version of you. 

And he’ll do it again, and again, and again.

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to. I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—” 

When you rush to embrace him with the utmost care, it proves too much to hide anything else. Yoongi’s walls fully fall with the tears from his eyes as you cry into his skin. Words bump and collide into each other as he fails to express how grateful he is to be alive and to be in your arms. It’s too much to bear. It’s too much to convey. All he can do is fucking sob. “Goddamn it, I love you—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

You didn’t deny him. You didn’t look repulsed, or disappointed, or angry. All the fears that berated him for days prove useless and wrong and there’s no better feeling that exists in the spectrum of human emotion. 

Orange and blue coalesce and intertwine, and his mind shines with a rainbow of iridescence, scintillating and bounding like the suncatchers in your eyes. 

With his next blinks, something happens that renders his mind speechless. 

He slowly looks beyond your shoulder and sees a figment of himself—a younger version with big dreams and a battered heart—standing at the edge of his kitchen and donning a look of trepidation. 

Before realizing that everything’s going to be alright. 

Yeah, kid. Everything is more than alright.

And this only makes Yoongi cry harder, and he watches himself grin before offering a simple nod, walking out with hands in his pockets and fading footsteps.

Healed. 

“Yoongi.” 

His name leaves your lips so cracked that it hurts him in the best way. It takes all of him to hold you tight, finding shelter from his own shower of tears in the crook of your shoulder. 

This is what he’ll remember forever. Your outpouring of emotion receiving his biggest fear with warmth. He should’ve seen this coming, but darkness and trauma has a damn good way of beating your expectations down into dust. Just like the glass shattered across his living room floor not too long ago. 

You still haven’t said anything. But this is more than enough. This is everything Yoongi could ask for and he’s cherishing every millisecond he gets with you in this newfound life, this life beyond his own, this eternity. 

“Yoongi, I—”

He swoops in to catch your words in his mouth, and it’s in this very moment that he realizes that he’s terrified of anything you have to say back. Is that ridiculous? Is that unreasonable? He doesn’t care. There’s a chance these past three months have changed your mind and he’s not ready to hear it if that’s the case. 

Just stay here with him and let him love you. Just stay here by his side and let him watch you with a vision finally unclouded. 

Yoongi backs you up into the opposite counter, smothering you with everything else he wants to say but can’t. Because anything else he wants to confess still scares the living shit out of him.

Your breathy words already hit harder when you finally speak again, “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

He can’t either. Whatever you’re about to say, he fucking can’t, either. Holding your head, he plants his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry,” he rasps out, hoping you can tell he means it, for everything. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.” 

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.”

How can he ever make all of this up to you? The distance, the shutout, the shutdown, the way he tried to get you to leave. All of it weighs his heart down and forces out apologies to his brain. Over, and over, he can only say sorry. And he’s so fucking relieved that he gets to tell you because he made it out and they all survived. 

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, and he immediately calms. Inhaling your natural scent, he lowers his lids as you whisper, “You’re okay, so I’m okay.” 

All you wanted was for him to be okay. And all he needed for that to happen was having you right here. 

This is deeper than love. 

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, he feels so goddamned overwhelmed he has to ball his fists. “I just—fuck.” 

“Babe,” you say with the softest care, “I’m here.” 

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, salt coats his lips and he knows what it means. 

You’re here. He almost got you to leave. And you almost did and he finally, finally, finally fought for you to stay. 

Yoongi plants kisses all over your skin, marvelling at how perfect you are even if you don’t believe it. You’re everything. And he’s so drawn to you that he can feel his body responding without pause. 

But he won’t give into those urges unless you want him to. He can live off your little breaths, your roaming hands, your small hitches as he keeps peppering love along your canvas. This can be enough to keep him going well into the next year or ten. 

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching just how he loves. “If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” He captures your lips again, and he can feel that you want what he wants. And his heart pulses in double time. “You’re so—fuck.”

His hands find yours as he starts to walk to the bedroom, leading you and loving how your fingers slot into his perfectly. When you both reach the bed, you stop him with a little question of concern, “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be alright, doll.” There’s nothing but care in his movements as he lowers you down, transfixed by how beautiful you are in his sheets. The fact that you’re down to do this again after taking him so well has his mind spinning. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.” 

Giggling, you read him like a story you’ve memorized, “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.” 

“I don’t think so.” A lie. “Lemme get a cond—” 

“It’s okay.”

…What did you just say?

Yoongi needs clarification on what the fuck you just said because he is now convinced this whole night is a dream and he’s hallucinating you in his bed and he’s gonna wake up to none of this happening at all because what the fuck did you just say? “...What?” 

“We don’t…” You swallow, and his heart stops completely at your next sentence. “We don’t have to this time.” 

There’s no fucking way. “You sure?” 

Cradling his face with the softest of touches, you confirm with a smile so shy Yoongi wants to shield you from the rest of the world, “Just for a little bit.” 

And you add something he absolutely needed to hear because his breaths haven’t resumed. “I trust you.” When your eyes slightly waver, Yoongi crumbles at your last words, “And I want to, if you want it, too.” 

Of course he wants this. But hearing the suggestion come from you? That’s new, and he’s not complaining in the least. “I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

His fingers. They’re already fucking shaking. 

But Yoongi’s not going to say anything to change the trajectory of this moment. Something about his bedroom feels different, as if it’s been plucked from this universe and placed in a separate pocket of time where only the two of you exist. 

You aren’t wavering in your gaze. All you do is stare with pools in your eyes as he slowly peels clothes from your legs and his own. Determination is all he can see, and that solidifies his confession that he’ll keep saying again, and again, and again. 

Can you hear how breathless he sounds? Can you feel every shiver running up and down his spine? Do you notice how he could disintegrate at any moment? 

But before you both do this for real, he has to be absolutely sure. One last time. 

And you respond without him having to ask. “Yes, my love.” 

After a kiss he’ll remember forever, Yoongi kisses you back, taking his time and inundating your lips with every bit of him that he deems good. There’s a mix of emotion as he positions himself, and he has to fight the shakes when he feels the velvet touch of your folds. 

Holy fuck, he’s not gonna last. He already knows this won’t take long purely based on the way he’s already fighting hard to keep his fucking composure. 

But you’re so slick that it doesn’t take much for him to slide in, and the feeling of being fully molded into you is so incredible he could pass out. What the fuck. “Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

You’re already clenching around him. Oxygen can’t even reach his lungs. There’s no greater feeling in the world than what’s vibrating in his bones, getting to feel the person he loves just like this. Whole. Yoongi feels so whole and he knows you’re fighting to prolong this feeling just as hard as he is. 

Which only makes this shit even harder goddamn. 

Your giggle barely reaches his ears, “You good, baby?” 

He turns to watch your eyes, wondering when the fuck he got so close and wondering if he’s still even living. “Yeah, just...” He stares before finally taking a breath, exhaling hard from exertion alone. “Just this is about to make me bust.” 

When you laugh, your admittance coaxes a long, lopsided grin, “I was just thinking the same, holy shit. We’re not good at this.” 

Now that is a fuckin’ lie on your part. “No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.” 

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.” 

Fucking hell. You have to know how much power you have in that whine. Preventing himself from coming inside you legitimately hurts at this point. Not that he’s complaining but god. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.” 

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, giggling again and making him weaker and weaker. 

His voice is so strained it’s embarrassing. “You’re a little too perfect right now.” When you shake your head, he will not have any of that doubt in his face. “You are.”

“Nowhere close.”  

You don’t wanna do that. Facing you nose to nose, Yoongi taunts, welcoming this distraction from busting in your beautiful folds. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

Fuck, you take his thrusts so well. His cock is outright throbbing now. “What did I fuckin’ say?” 

“What—”

Another launch has your mouth flopping open, and Yoongi can’t think straight anymore. All he can spit out is everything as raw as you’re taking him, “You think there’s someone else? Hmm?” 

He pushes forward again. And your expression makes him moan so guttural it even gets himself going. Grabbing your chin, he feels sweat under his fingers as he vows, “You’re gonna regret saying that.” 

You just laugh, and Yoongi groans at his next thrust and how deep he goes. When you taunt him again, he can only glower with pride, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and thrashing in passionate waves. “Uh huh.” 

“Make me then,” you gasp for air. “Make me really sorry.” 

How could he ever deny you?

His hands find your body before he dives, breaking loose and ramming into you as hard and fast as his hips allow. The pain in his side rises which each swing, but that doesn’t matter. You feel so perfect around him he thinks he can stay here until he’s physically yanked from this plane of existence. 

Heaven. “Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Animal instincts scratch along Yoongi’s brain, blurring his vision and buzzing his actions into staccato jolts. When your jaw hangs, the first thing he thinks to do is smack your cheek, and he grunts when your eyes darken three shades,

“Do it again.” 

Did you just—

“Do it again,” you growl, moaning to the sky when he obliges a second time oh fuck you’re cutting his airway and it careens him into carnal bliss. 

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that everything roars in his core and he turns completely primal, forfeiting all sense of decency and ravishing you exactly how he wants and exactly how you need. What the fuck is his shirt still doing on your body? That needs to go. But too much time would be wasted getting it off, but he can settle with shoving it up and devouring your chest just like this oh yes. 

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi!” 

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

Lapping at your tits is one of his favorite things at this point. Almost as natural as embracing you and holding down your beautiful wrists just to watch you preen with a smile. Because this is exactly what you do now, teeth shining in the night and eyes creased and slicing through his beating, beating, beating heart. 

Yoongi’s sure he’s stuttering out words that praise you, but there’s nothing truly registering in his head other than your sinful, angelic sounds. Truthfully, these moans you’re puffing out are enough to send him over the edge because you sound so fucking pretty. 

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

Shit shit shit, he’s gonna— “Shit.” 

The last braincell he has commands his entire body, lunging up and pulling out of his newfound home before spilling mercilessly onto your exposed stomach, shuddering and shivering from lust and passion and something else scarier than the rest. 

Hearing nothing from your lips, Yoongi finally regards you with ragged breaths. 

You look so in shock. And he’s so exposed and snapped lucid that he is now downright shy. “Fuck,” he shakes out with a laugh. “Thought I could hold out.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure, laughing light and offering a smile. “Oh my god, I promise.” 

Something must now be very wrong with him, or the wiring in his brain has been changed. Because every time he sees your lips? There’s an innate need to kiss them. It’s almost blasphemous if he doesn’t. 

Fuck. He winces on the way down. There’s no doubt you saw that, which sucks. He doesn’t want you to worry about him, those lines on your forehead don’t need to be there. 

“Stay there, beautiful.” Shit, getting out of the bed hurts even worse now. I’m not done with you.” 

“Baby, are you sure?” 

He’s sure. You don’t need to lift a single finger tonight unless it’s for him to kiss. 

Walking to the bathroom and facing away, Yoongi can finally let his strong demeanor drop, wincing fully and squinting his eyes in pain. But it should subside in just a bit. Going too hard was probably the worst decision, but there was no way he was passing that shit up if you wanted it. 

From the time he comes back to sit on the bed, to wiping your face and your stomach, Yoongi doesn’t feel your stare let up even once. Which is fine. This is the most calm he’s ever felt in his life, cleaning the love of his life after a connection he didn’t expect to have until you both had reached another milestone. 

But as soon as he stares back, that’s when you look away. And it’s so adorable his heart beats a shade of lavender. “What, love.” 

“I just… nothing,” you whisper. 

“Tell me.” You’re not hiding anything from him now—fuck, he probably shouldn’t lie on this side. But fuck it. “I wanna know.” 

Well. Not on your watch apparently. You command him to lie on your other side, and he’s not gonna be told twice. Shit is hurting like hell right now.

But he settles at your side, ears perked and awaiting your every syllable. “It’s a secret.” 

Huh. “A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Well, this is definitely not what he expected. But anything to entertain and amuse you. Anything you want to tell him, he’ll bring to his grave. Lifting your chin, he softly rubs your cheek before whispering, “I can keep those, you know.” 

That smile is why he fell in love. “Okay, I’ll tell.” 

Why do you look so mischievous right now? Who is this cute ball of sudden energy? Are you not as exhausted as he feels? Yoongi is sure he could fall asleep in your arms right now without so much another breath—

“I love you, too.”

…What? 

The stop of a clock.

Absolute silence.

Soon, every star in the sky glows brighter, the moon shining beams into his room and coating your body in heavenly light. It’s so piercing and true that Yoongi feels little pricks at his eyes, desperately hoping he heard you correctly because if he didn’t, his body would crumble and wash away with the tide. 

“And you deserve more than I could ever give.” 

Oh. 

He heard you right. 

And all he can see is you just beyond the sand under his fingertips, eyes reflecting tangerine and summer sparks and everything he wants to be. 

He doesn’t remember rushing forward, he doesn’t remember kissing you. But he’s locked on your quivering mouth, not faring much better and very sure his tears are coating your tongue, too. 

What the fuck does he say? Every word in every language he knows abandons him, too stunned at your confession and reciprocation that he can only show what he feels in his movements. 

Fuck sleep. 

He’s giving you every ounce of his energy tonight. 

This is how he can thank you. For caring about him, for not giving up on him, for not leaving him when he was at his absolute lowest. 

For loving him. 

For loving him. 

The pain ceases to bother him. Because he’s joining you in the sea now, diving deep between your legs and lapping at your every wave of pleasure. All he can think about is how you taste like magic, like devotion, like home. And buried in your core and away from your moans, he can let his tears flow, eyes scrunched and fingers gripping your thighs as if you’d leave as soon as he lets go. 

When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing. Because he still cannot find it within himself to speak. If he does? You’d surely run. Getting ahead of himself is the theme tonight, and there’s no telling what he’d say next if he doesn’t keep his tongue occupied with your ebb and flow. 

He really could go all night just like this. 

And that thought is so natural that it doesn’t even phase him. 

Your hands jut into his hair before you come on his tongue a second time, and the groan he pushes out rumbles his entire being. 

“Holy fuck, baby—!” 

Your waves crash onto the shore yet again, magnificent and beautiful and sparkling. Even though he’s as close as he could possibly be, Yoongi needs to be closer. So he gets up and lets your cunt breathe as he smothers your lips once more, pouring adoration into your lungs and sacrificing air to do so. 

“Fuck.” He needs you. Yoongi can’t control the dragon in his chest that yearns for connection again, even though he knows this one cannot mirror the last. So he gets up to grab a condom, instantly thinking about how shy you were to show him which ones you got when you re-upped. 

Fucking good ones, that’s for damn sure. He can pretty much feel all of you if he thinks hard enough, even with these on. Minx. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

The look in your eye is familiar. And the words you say are even more so. “One day.”

Fuck, he loves you. 

And for the rest of the night, as much as he can muster, Yoongi shows you just how much. At least, he hopes you can tell from the way he makes love to you, each stroke intentional, each touch of your face tender, each look in your eye full of yearning even though you’re right there with him. 

Is it possible to want someone when they’re right there? 

What does that mean? How does he feel so fucking hungry when he’s so full of you? 

It almost—almost—scares him how he can’t get enough of your body. But it’s probably your soul that he’s holding instead, and you have so much that he can’t carry it all. 

Yoongi’s eyes burn, but not in a blaze of fire. They burn like a hearth, like a calm flame in the heart of a house.  

Because he’s finally home. 

—

—

Spent, satiated, and still wanting more but letting rest take over his tired bones, Yoongi finds himself next to your shimmering eyes and roaming fingers. God, he loves when you play with his hair. If there was one thing that could always calm his storm? This would be it.

That, and your hums. He could live indefinitely in your song.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. When you catch his eyes, you shift from one to the other. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.” 

He doesn’t blame you one bit for that. “I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Ah. Will he ever tell you how close that was to happening? Why does that one question make him feel so fucking guilty? “It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

As he holds your gaze, Yoongi thinks it’s better to wait. But he can at least explain why things went down the way they did. Why you had to be sent away. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he says with certainty. “We all knew that.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Don’t cry. Everything is okay now. Please don’t let this burden you. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.” 

His silent pleas don’t work, because of course you would cry for them. That’s just who you are, and there’s zero need to change that. 

But it doesn’t make this situation less painful. Sitting up, Yoongi has to hang his head between his knees to hide his guilt. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, remembering something else he can tell you that’s okay to divulge. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.” 

“Thank you…” 

A brief touch on his shoulder turns into a calm yet firm hold of his arm. You’re slowly unraveling him, just like a fruit that reminds him of you, and he’s brought into your loving warmth without a word. 

The two of you don’t need to exchange those so much anymore. Not when he can sense what you need, and when you can read him better than anyone ever has.

Only one person knows him more.

And finally remembering there are other people in the world—including the only one he fears—douses him with a splash of water. 

He’s way too deep now. He really has to do something because if he gets pulled away from you ever again, his heart may as well get ripped from his chest. 

“Thank you for letting me in.”

Yoongi’s eyes still.

“It was raining really hard.” 

Fuck. 

There have been multiple doors opened tonight. Not just the one he finally yanked himself through. And with each swing of solid wood, his heart began to breathe easier and easier, its beating stronger and fuller.

But with this last door? This one you just opened with a whisper and a soft touch? 

His whole body freezes. Because it’s a swift punch to his already pained ribcage and all he can do is leak sentences from his eyes. 

“Babe?”

Only you can affect him this potently. Only you can bring him to his knees. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He doesn’t want to. Fuck, he’s way too timid and fragile right now to even turn your way. Yoongi feels as if all his layers have been stripped bare, lying in one piece around him and exposing his vulnerable state. 

But he obeys. And he can feel the slip of warmth on his face before you spring into action, 

“Oh, fuck, come here.”

He’s gathered in your arms and it reminds him of many things. Like the tug of warm rushing water, and the first time he realized how he felt about you. 

But above all, it reminds him of the loving embrace of his mother, one that he’s been swooped into every time he needed her most. 

And this singular comparison knocks him off balance entirely. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, pressing his face into your neck and soothing him when he doesn’t utter a damn word. “I’m not mad anymore, okay? I’m just glad you’re alright.”

How does one respond when an angel speaks to them? Is it possible to form words when your heart lodges itself in your throat? This proves too difficult. And Yoongi is trying so fucking hard to keep himself in one piece.

Too late. He can’t stop his nose from a sniff. But it’s okay, because he knows he can be like this with you. He can let go, because you’ve always allowed him to be wholly himself. 

For the first time, in a very long time, Yoongi feels… 

Protected. 

He doesn’t have to be strong right now. He doesn’t even have to pretend to be more okay than he is. He can just be and that in itself gives him the most comfort he’s had in years and years. 

The answer was always you. How many other times can he materialize this singular solution in his mind? 

Infinite, infinite, infinite times. 

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi croaks, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

He almost can’t finish what he’s saying. It takes everything to shove it out because he wants to truly say everything he feels. Consequences and potential reactions be damned.

The truth remains. 

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.” 

When you choke out a sob, his body responds, “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Every single bit of it. The truth is so concrete in his chest that he can barely breathe. Sighing, Yoongi sniffs again before letting his weight fall into your loving side. “I mean that.”

You smooth a hand over his hair. Something that he’s missed so fucking much. “Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, surprising himself because there’s so many things that will scare you shitless. But what’s done is done. The future is now, and immediate changes are in order. “But from now on, you can be here whenever you want.” 

Skimming along his strands, you cheekily ask, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?” 

Oh? You know about those? It makes sense, since your brother did attend some and stayed for a bit. “Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” 

You’re silent as he gravitates to your shoulder, inhaling your scent while kissing its curve. “He was worried. And hoping you would show.” Again, you don’t speak, leaving room for Yoongi to keep revealing more and more of his unending string of thoughts, “I knew you wouldn’t. But… I did hope to see you, too.” 

As you resume your gentle touches, your chest rises and falls before you finally talk, “It’s okay. It would’ve been too obvious.”

What, that he missed you? That he wouldn’t have left the same room you were in? That his eyes would’ve drifted to you because the rest of him couldn’t? “What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

Oh. The two of you are so similar. “You already have that.”

Voice softer and more timid, you respond, “You know what I mean.” 

Of course he does. In fact, he wants to see how you’d act if there was nothing holding you back. Because if it were him? Everyone would know who has him cuffed up and chained down, and just how much he fucking loves it—

“My brother was the one that invited me,” you blurt. “To come to those, I mean.”

Wait.. He what? “Huh.”

“I know.” You absentmindedly take his hand and kiss along his ridges, staring off into space and time. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

Does he? Yoongi doesn’t think so, considering he himself is still alive and breathing semi-fine. 

Back in the parking lot, though, things could’ve gotten suspicious as hell once that fucker started mentioning you to him. But the guy from Dalo taunted him first on the court way back when. Of course he’d single him out. 

But still… When your brother told him to get out of the car, he probably lost two of his nine lives. “What if he does?”

You turn, eyes wide. “Does he?”

Focusing on your lips hovering over his fingers, Yoongi runs through every scenario in his mind. The most glaring thing he can think of just happened in your front yard, but your brother told him to break up with his ex. So there’s no way he’d think you were even an option.

So the most obvious answer, thankfully, would be, “No.”

Relief lowers your shoulders. “Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

Ah. He forgot about this single scheme he cooked up days ago, as soon as he was told your brother would be heading out for a surprise trip. 

Getting to tell you in person? This makes his heart sing. “Who do you think you bought those groceries for?” 

Jackpot. That expression is fucking priceless. “What?” 

Yoongi cannot believe he almost let you leave. If you had walked back out into the rain, his future would have looked much different. And, frankly, quite fucking bleak. “I get you for a week, right?”

It’s just for a second, but the wheels spinning in your head can plainly be seen. He can’t help but laugh at the way you scrunch that cute ass nose as you burst, 

“You sneaky little—” 

That look. The look you have when you’re nothing but happy? He wants that permanently etched into your features forever. There’s nothing else he wants more than to keep you shining and shining. 

Giving in to your kisses, Yoongi loses himself in the best way, melting against your lips and feeling warmth pool in his chest. 

Is going behind your brother’s back one more time still mutinous? Yes. But this will be the very last time. All the sneaking, all the hidden truths, all the little lies will be over soon enough. 

You need it to be, your brother deserves for it to be, and Yoongi yearns for it to be. 

“One day,” he murmurs, caught in a sudden determination to rewire his whole framework for your sake, “I’ll be better.”

“Don’t make it just one day, silly.” 

Did you just… What did you just say?

Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion, “We’ll make it as many as we can.”

It’s not enough to say he loves you.

What he feels digs seven leagues farther into his soul, carving out a haven shaped like you just so he can permanently keep you there. Safe. Protected. Glowing like the pop of fireworks and the shine of sunlight through summer leaves. 

Yoongi’s not quite sure of a lot of things. Unfortunately, one of those includes knowing when exactly he’d be okay. Be truly, one hundred percent okay. 

But he’s sure of one thing, and that’s your word. If you’re with him, you’re with him. He’s known this for awhile now, but it doesn’t hit him until tonight, right as you fought to stay while staring his monsters in the eye. 

A light laugh lands on his hair, and Yoongi wonders where your mind is. Probably wandering and trying to find his own, since he knows he drifted off just a bit. 

“At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat.”

Yoongi’s brows perk up at your confidence. 

“Then I’m running away with her.”

Is that right? Maybe he believes you, but who is he to surrender so easily? “Oh, yeah?”

Your pout is priceless. “Yeah. But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

A laugh leaps out of his chest, because technically she did but ultimately came back. You really don’t know half of it, but he has time to tell you everything. Even the parts he doesn’t want to. “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

Alright, he’s had enough. The urge to tickle you roars again, and he doesn’t have to keep his hands to himself. “This much,” he says with his attack, loving your bubbling laughter, “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.” 

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

Yoongi stops on your soft curves. “Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up.” Your eyes crease as you watch him stare far into your eyes. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.” 

Oh, fuck, he did! 

The laugh that rumbles from his belly is so fast and loud that his side hurts like hell fuck but he can’t help it because the giddiness gets the best of him. Damn, he really did say that the very first day. From day one, he’s been such a liar. “I should’ve!” 

“You really should’ve.” 

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” Of course you nod. It’s attractive in the best and worst ways, and soon he’s not gonna know what to do with the confident version of you. “Course you are.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” 

The sentence he wants to say next is balancing on the tip of his tongue. But it’s even more fun to dangle in front of your awaiting eyes, knowing you have a feeling of what he’s gonna say. 

So he just bites his own lips before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.” 

“No! …Maybe.” 

Adorable. “Guess what.” 

Yoongi doesn’t even acknowledge your suspicion before seizing your mouth, kissing you deep and feeling the arch of your chest into his. Fuck, he loves when you do that. It’s one of his favorite things, even more so when it happens right here in his bed. 

If it ever happens again in yours… 

After a few passes, he raises himself, planting a hand at your side and slotting a leg in between yours. God, your skin. It’s so smooth against his, and yet, you’re so unbelievably strong. So firm. So loyal. It’s never going to fully click that you’re doing this all for him. 

There are multitudes of what Yoongi wants to say to you. But you two have all the time in the world now. He’s gonna shower you with so much appreciation and adoration that you may not know what to do with him. And that’s perfectly okay. 

When he lets up, you move wet lips to whisper, “What were you gonna say?” 

Drawn to your nose, Yoongi gives in to his urges yet again and kisses you there, letting loose and firing another confession into the dark night sky, “I just fucking love you, doll.” 

Oh. You’re trying to duck him now? That’s not gonna work, but it’s fucking cute as hell. “You can’t hide now, babe.” 

“I can!” 

Nah, you can’t run. He has more to say and he’s gonna say it to your face. Or ear. Whatever is willing to take in his sparkling, booming declarations, “I love fucking you, too.” 

“Yoongi!” 

He can’t help but laugh now, holding you tighter and snuggling his nose into your scent. Inhaling, inhaling, exhaling relief. Relief that you are here and relief that he is, too.

That second of terror, not knowing if he was going to survive? It feels so far away and right on his heels all at once. It’s a strange feeling, wondering if the universe intentionally gave him a second chance and now wondering why. Clearly, he now has some soul searching to do. 

But two things are for sure: music, and you.

And to Yoongi, they are one and the same.  

“I miss you.”

What?

Looking down at your head, Yoongi wonders if he wandered too far, “How? I’m right here.”

You lower into his chest, and he feels his heartbeat quicken. “I still miss you.”

Fuck. He knows how that feels. 

Feeling the rush of melancholy, he embraces your sides, knowing that there’s a goodbye to every hello and he knows your dreading this part just as much as he is. 

A flare of blue streaks across his chest. Something burning so hot and searing a decision on the inside of his lungs. 

And fuck, it’s already making him shake. “I can’t do shit like this anymore.” 

You completely still in his arms, and he knows why. But this is the only way he can get all of this out because it’s frightening and he’s running from the one sentence he has to say out loud.

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

He can’t fucking stop his breaths from studdering, and you push up to check on his current shake,

“What are you saying?” 

Just say it. Just fucking say it. He’s ready to walk into fire, knowing a piece of him might disintegrate into ashes. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.” 

It takes a second or two for you to realize what he says. And he gets that. This is sudden, and it’s throwing him into a new state of panic that would destroy him if you weren’t there warming his skin.

The gleam of your tears gives him a will to breathe. 

And Yoongi swallows every shadow and doubt before taking the first step towards freedom, famine, or both. 

For you, for you, for you. Always and forever, for you. 

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

More water engulfs your eyes as you fall silent, and Yoongi can’t quell the beating in his chest. Are you shocked? Scared? Just as fucking frightened as he is? 

Because he has a lot coming for him and there’s no way around it. He just has to hope to everything in the universe and beyond that he can withstand whatever hell your brother will unleash. 

And the guilt waiting for him on its haunches. “Babe?” 

“I’m just…” Your brows deepen as your face scrunches, but what you say makes him blink twice. “I can’t…”

Yoongi’s heart is millimeters from the ground. “What?”

When your hand grips your chest, he feels his whole world pulse with the urge to protect you. You look so scared of something, and it’s probably the same as what’s haunting him. He wishes things were different, he wishes he did things better, he hates himself for—

“I love you so much it fucking hurts.”

Oh. 

You… That’s all you’re thinking about? Him? His throat sears through at how wrong he was. How the fuck will he ever deserve you?

“Maybe cus I’m scared as shit,” you confirm one of his worries, clenching another beautiful hand over your chest. “Or maybe one heart isn’t enough to hold it all.” 

If that isn’t the fucking truth. 

Just saying the words will never be enough. Like it’s laughable how much he feels for you, what he would do for you. The way he went from a bruised heart to growing another just for you inflates his battered ribcage and leaves him breathless. “It’s been hurting for me, too,” he croaks, chest constricted by the rivers on your face. “A lot longer than three months.”

When your palm reaches to cup his cheek, Yoongi can’t hold back the tear that falls into its ridges. Because his capacity for emotion seems to be limitless around your tender heart. You’re his safe haven, his hearth, his home where he can be himself and not feel like he has to hide. 

You’re his everything. And he’s simply yours in every sense of the word. 

“I just wish I was here for those,” you whisper with leaking eyes that match his. “I missed you, Yoongi. I didn’t want to say much, but… It affected me a lot more than I thought.”

“I know,” he responds, cracked and broken beyond repair. “There’s nothing I can say that can change what I did.” 

Your sniffles stab like knives. 

“But listen. Hmm?” He shifts to kiss the inside of your palm. “Never again.” 

When you can only nod, his lungs collapse. “Serious. And you’ll know how serious by tomorrow. K?”

“K,” you breathe out, silent as you watch him pepper more and more kisses along your wrist between inhales. His plan will be fully done by the end of the day tomorrow. There’s a bit to do, but he’s got time. Everything will be worth it just to keep you happy and at peace. 

And maybe this will help him get there, too. 

“Come here, doll,” he whispers, shutting both eyes when you rush to his lips before he even finishes the plea. And your mouth pins his in the best way, smothering with salt and a deluge he laps at, sucks in, smushes closer with a hand to your head. 

When you break away, Yoongi gulps in air as you do the same, hearing your soft sniffs and still wishing things had been done differently. 

But he can’t change the past. And the present is more than he could ever ask for. So there’s no point in dwelling on the roads you both took to get here.

“I love when you call me that,” you admit, breaking into his thoughts. 

“Doll?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Kinda picked up on that.” Ah, you’re trying to hide one more time? Do you know that’s never gonna fly with him? “Huh, now we’re shy again?” 

“Always.” 

“We both know that’s not true.” Yoongi laughs until you latch onto his neck, and blood speeds to his groin as he instantly loses himself in a groan. He doesn’t even register his head kicking back until his words come out strained, “Fuckin’ hustler, fuck…” 

When you chuckle, your vibrations send jolts along his limbs, activating every fucking cell and lighting up his brain until it’s completely blank. 

“Gotta live up to my name somehow,” you joke, pulling away and leaving a cold patch in your wake. “But seriously, that’s all you get. We have to sleep.” 

“What, you don’t wanna see the cat anymore?” 

“I never said that!”

You’re way too easy, but he’d be the same exact way. The last time he got you both up to see your little gift, she wasn’t outside. Will she be there now? 

With tired muscles, you both get out of the bed, and he holds out his hand to guide your zigzag waddles through his apartment that he can finally breathe in. 

“Wait,” you halt with your arm. When Yoongi obeys with a look, you turn to him and show off how logical you are, “There’s probably glass still.” 

He nods, resting you against his door before fetching slippers from his closet. And it hurts like a bitch to lean down, but he slips your pair on so you don’t have to move. Rather him than you anyday. 

And that look of pure adoration he gets in return will always be fucking worth it. 

God. Things really are better when you’re here. 

He can’t believe how stupid he’s been. 

With the proper footwear, both of you slowly make your way through his place, and Yoongi shifts his vision around to check for any large shards of glass to navigate you around. Somehow, it looks like you got most of the damage out. But some tiny specks and chips still remain, and he notes to get them soon—

“If she’s not out there again, I’m gonna cry.”

Yoongi laughs before squeezing your fingers. “Me, too.”

Finally, you both get to the door, and his hand stays flat on the wooden striations for a little longer than necessary. 

How wild to think things could have gone to shit entirely. How foolish of him to even fight for you to leave. 

But, after a moment of him looking down at the doorknob and you giving him the space to pause, Yoongi opens the door and gives a small peek outside. 

Bingo. “Stay there,” he commands, and he leads you forward until you forget he’s there.

Because the damn cat now commands all your attention, lapping at a water bowl until she looks at you. There’s a moment when he knows she’s cautious, but it doesn’t last long before she’s curious enough to inch closer to your side of the door. 

Of course it wouldn’t take long. Yoongi knows how magnetic and gentle you’ve always been. Maybe if he didn’t resist it so fucking much before, he wouldn’t have had to separate himself in the first place. 

“You’re so little,” you whisper. “Hi, baby.”

He smiles down at you both as the little one sniffs at your finger, feeling a calmness in his heart that seems secure and permanent. Is he allowed to feel this way all the time? 

Maybe if he had done things right and told your brother everything first. And maybe he should stop digging this hole and stay in the moment, goddamn. 

“Do you have a name yet?” You ask her instead of him, scratching behind an ear and giggling at a purr. “Did your dad give you one?” 

…Dad? 

Yeah, digging that hole is probably smart. He’s gonna need a whole grave for that one. 

But Yoongi swallows before answering for the one that can’t speak, “I’ve just been calling her cat.” 

When you glare over your shoulder, it’s immensely more cute than intimidating, which causes him to laugh and the cat to scurry a bit away. “You named my cat Cat?”

“Nah, just nothing permanent. Figured you’d wanna do that.”

“We can do it together.” Lips pursed, you sit in thought as she comes back, plopping on her side so you can rub her belly. “It would mean more that way.” 

“Cat means cat,” Yoongi shrugs out, before promptly getting swatted at and laughing. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” You yawn before saying goodbye for now, and judging from the look of yearning on your face, Yoongi knows you’d rather bring her inside. “See you again soon, cat named Cat.”

Cute.

Maybe something short and sweet? Miss Dion has been calling him something a lot lately... And it could fit with how nice this cat is being around you. 

“Sugar.”

You peer up before blinking. “Wait, that's so cute. Where'd that come from?”

Well. You didn't say no, so he's sticking with it.

Smiling, Yoongi helps you up before you both step back inside. “I’ll explain in a bit.” 

That seems to quell any other conversation about it, so you let him lead you back to bed. 

Only he doesn’t do that. Instead, Yoongi leads you just a few steps forward, letting you both stand in the living room and take in the aftermath of his mania together.

Your hand comes down to grip his in a comforting hold, and his shoulders immediately relax. "I don't know what led to this," you start slow, rolling words around in your mouth and plucking them very carefully. Even though you don't need to. He deserves to hear your every critical thought. "But I wanna know..."

When Yoongi turns to face you, he isn't prepared for your question,

"Did it help at all?"

Mm.

It's not that he can't answer because it's too hard. The reason he can't answer you right away is because he doesn't quite know the real answer. Does he feel better because of what he did? Or because you're here, like he said before? "I'm not sure yet," he decides to respond truthfully.

Eyes slipping down to your fingers looped in his, Yoongi admits with quiet confidence, "But none of it mattered as soon as I saw you."

Once again, with one look, he finds himself swimming in those beautiful eyes. Because you don't see him with pity, or rage, or even disappointment. You just... see him. You accept him as he comes.

And one day, when he gets the courage to look you in the eyes long enough, he'll be able to see himself the way you do, too.

"Let's rest, my love," you whisper soft. "I'll yell at you in the morning, I'm too tired to do it now."

There it is.

Chuckling, Yoongi obliges, shivering at how you address him and following whatever you ask. "Good. You're the only one allowed to kick my ass."

"As it should be."

When he's the one that leads you to the bedroom, his heart beats strong. But when you're the one that tucks him into bed with a kiss to his forehead, Yoongi's pulse becomes so tender it robs him of words.

"Hey... I'll always be here, you know," you murmur, sliding a warm hand over his bangs. "Even if it doesn't feel like it, I'm right here. All you have to do is close your eyes, and just..."

When he does, the press of your lips on his damn near brings him to tears. He commits this feeling to every memory center lodged in his brain, and this moment instantly locks itself as one of his deepest, most cherished ever.

"Remember that."

Eyes flittering open, Yoongi softly brings you in for another kiss. "I will, doll."

Your smile gives him purpose. "Good."

And for the first time in months and despite a hurting side, Yoongi sleeps right til the time he has to wake up, without even a breath or pulse out of alignment.

Because his drift to sleep had been a peaceful one, and the only thing he dreamt, felt, or thought of was you.

And the way you told him you loved him.

-

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fin :')

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fugue thoughts!! we did it!! | join the server!

a/n: we freakin' did it i love them i love them i love them!! yoongi's whole interlude is done and it was a monster in itself. now we're back on to the main storyline and honestly i am both relieved and yet still so tender for this yoongi. of course, there are other big situations we have to get ourselves into, but we are in the home stretch of three tangerines so let's finish this all out with a bang bang bang and lights in the sky :')) ++ 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 3tanfugue3 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 last time (honestly, you guys were super encouraging so thank you!) so let's go again!

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

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“What’s taking you so long!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the nights that made you more than hesitant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a fucking lie. 

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

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

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

“Says the man who’s practically naked.” 

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Never again. 

Never, ever, ever again.

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

You extend ten minutes into fifteen. 

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

—

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanna go outside?

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

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

Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.  

—

—

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart. 

It booms. 

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

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

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

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

Yoongi. 

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

And with a stopped heart, neither are you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were ready. 

He wasn’t. 

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

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

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

Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye. 

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

—

—

You readily down two glasses of water. 

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

—

—

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

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

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

Maybe not as high as it could go. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

“Come on!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mm. That still sounds like a backup option. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”  

—

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”

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

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

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

Oh… Really… 

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

Waves you off. 

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

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

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

Your heart looks up before you do.  

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

…Towards you? 

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

—

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

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

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

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

You aren't alone in being alone.

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

Then it starts.

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

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

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

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

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

Night, after night, after night. 

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

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

“One last time.” 

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

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

And he feels so perfect against you it hurts. 

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

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

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

He never loved you. You never said goodbye. 

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

Yoongi… Still feels like home. 

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

But he doesn’t. 

Of course he doesn’t. 

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

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

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

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

Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes. 

The song dies. 

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

And you need nothing else but to leave. 

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

And you finally get the courage to whisper his name. 

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

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

What is happening? What’s he doing? 

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

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

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

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

Have mercy.

Your soul finally snaps in two. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. This is the man you remember. 

And that just makes everything hurt even more. 

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

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

“Yoongi, what are you—?”

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

Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this. 

Just like you have. 

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

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

...What? 

No. No no no. 

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

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

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

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

Oh. Fuck that. 

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

“Even if I t—”

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

“Fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You're lying.”

“All fuckin' night."

“Liar.”

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

“I’d never lie to you.” 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” 

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost as if nothing’s changed. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi, I—”

“I know.”

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

You know your underwear is soaked all the way through. 

And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”

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

“Are you still on the—”

“Yes.”

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

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

“Yoongi, please—”

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

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

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

“Don’t do that.”

“Oh, I—”

“Do that shit again and I’ll come.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got you.”

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

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

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

“Baby.” 

You flick your gaze back up to his. 

“Stay with me.”

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

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

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

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

“Still so beautiful.”

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

“You look so fucking good in red.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, too.” 

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

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

“Before you left.”

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

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

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

He never told you many things.

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, you’re so tight—”

“So fucking big—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—yours.”

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, baby..”

“You asked for it.”

“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe—”

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

“Yoongi—”

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

“Yoongi—!” 

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

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

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

“Come for me, love.”

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

“I said come.”

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

Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat. 

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

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

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

“Fuck it, come here.” 

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

“Again.” 

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

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

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

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

“Let me pull—”

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

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

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

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

“One last time.”

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

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

Why is he so quiet? 

Why are you so quiet? 

Why do you feel like crying again? 

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

“I know it’s over.”

Your heart flares.

“But I need you to know.”

Stars light the night sky.

“I love you. And I always will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat constricts again.

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

“Yoongi…”

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

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

So you also let everything go. 

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

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

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

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

And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise. 

—

—

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

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

“How did you know to come up here?” 

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

Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”

“Not for the reasons you think.”

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

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

What. 

Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck you!” 

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

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

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

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

As magnificent and dreamlike all of this has been, you're starting to find logic again. Because more than one question badgers into your mind.

How long have you been gone? Have your friends not even checked on you? Did they try? Did they leave do they even still have the... table…

Wait.

Everything else clicks into place. 

The random city everyone flew to that Jeongguk picked. The infamous club and dress code you heard about from Taehyung. The table that Hoseok bragged about getting…

“...You're the one that got us VIP.” 

That stupid, annoying, ridiculous grin. Of course this is how you'd be reminded of how much you love to hate it.

“Now come dance with me,” he says with teeth still flashing wide. “Let’s see if you ever got that step.” 

Eyes sparkling, you let him lead you down and onto the dance floor, moving through until you’re suddenly next to your friends that shout and holler at your arrival together. 

“All of you are crazy!” You yell out, tears in your smile as they burst into laughter. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”

Yoongi grabs hold of you before chuckling into your ear. “I told them not to.” 

“Why?”

“Didn’t know if you were really done.” He grips you tight, face falling into seriousness. “But I heard you broke up with someone a month ago. This was my only chance and I took it.” 

Holy fucking shit.

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek with purpose. “I love you.”

Yoongi’s cheeks rise high, dimples prominent and eyes carrying the light of the universe. Lips close, he responds how he wanted to the first time.

And you seal your devotion with a kiss full of starlight. 

“Ugh, here we go.”

“Already at it again, huh.”

"Figures. Didn't you see his jersey?"

“Get another room—!”

Suddenly, the same song that used to haunt you comes on once more, but this time, you welcome it with a swell of freedom in your chest. The waves of your mind calm, washing onto an empty beach and fading into a mesmerizing valley of blue.

Yoongi grins as he holds your hand, and you can't help but stretch your mouth wide as you both immerse into the crowd, moving and spinning and stepping perfectly together on every beat. Laughter and joy fills the space between your hearts as you all cheer, sharing this infinite moment together as fate intended.  

In a beautiful, unforgettable dance. 

-

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fin :)

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hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist

a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!

a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here!