#ryenwrites

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

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

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

Hustler [05:45]: 1 Attachment 

Mm. You sent him the dawn.

He’s gonna give you the world. 

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

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

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

Yoongi [06:13]: 1 Attachment 

Yoongi [06:13]: Mine’s better

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

Fuck, he needs to get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course. He never doubted you for a second.

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

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

Fuck.

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

Yoongi [06:35]: Same

Mm. He can do better than that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The thought pulls out a tiny huff. 

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

He’s not alone. 

To his side, Miss Dion stops watering her plants, donned in a fluffy robe and a shit grin that Yoongi has to look away from out of pure… Is he being shy right now? “Morning.”

“Good morning to you, too, sugar,” she says through satisfied teeth. “I told you. What did I say?”

Yoongi can’t help but shine his own set to the sky before looking her way. “Mm. Depression and isolation can mess with memory, so.. Can’t recall. Looks like you’ll have to tell me again.” 

With creased eyes, he braces as his neighbor lightly threatens with an air swipe of her arm. 

“A smart one, huh? Figures. Glad to have you back, son.” Miss Dion shakes her head, one hand propped on a hip and staring low. “Looks like your little rascal is back, too.”

“My what?” Yoongi looks down before seeing a cat emerge from the nearby bushes, opting to walk on the sidewalk at the sight of people. Silent, he watches his neighbor tsk at the retreating culprit,

“She keeps messing with my plants and making my poor Zeke antsy. Get her some better food, okay? Go with your girlfriend before I charge you for garden damages.” 

A full laugh bursts out of his chest, realizing he’s got a little in common with the feisty, older woman. Is Zeke the name of a dog or something? “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” Settling into a warm smile, she radiates serenity with sparkles in her eyes. It’s a look that reminds Yoongi of his own mother, and his heart suddenly yearns to go back home. “Now shoo and get on with your day. Don’t let me keep you.”

Turns out, there are plenty of good people in this world. 

And maybe—just maybe—he’s starting to feel like one of them, too. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

—

On his drive to work, with morning air breezing through open windows and bottom lip between his teeth, Yoongi decides that you’re gonna hear everything from him from now on. Every single day, he’ll reach out every moment he can. 

He knows it won’t ever, ever make up for the months he fell off the planet, but he’ll abruptly switch up his behavior because you deserve his full extent of communication and he has been severely lacking. 

And the first thing he will hound you about is getting in a good meal today. 

—

—

Work flies by, which is another sign things are looking up. 

During a break, Yoongi fishes out his phone to continue a search he started earlier. And seeing your nickname on his screen sends wings beating around his chest like a fucking lovesick fool. Will he ever get over this feeling? Fuck no. 

You [13:25]: Which one were you looking at? I wanna see!

Cute. It’s one of the keyboards he’s been looking for, but definitely out of his price range—for now. But it’s whatever. He knows what he can do with bare bones and minimal tools, so anything a step above worn-down pads and keys is just a plus. 

Yoongi [14:30]: This is the one I really want but not right now

Yoongi [14:31]: 1 Attachment 

Honestly? Just the fact that you’re interested in what he’s talking about is enough for him. This is leagues better than anything he could’ve imagined, and now he doesn’t know why he didn’t start doing this sooner. 

Well. He does know why. 

Hustler [14:33]: Responded ❤️ to an Attachment

Hustler [14:33]: HOTTT GET IT NOW!!!

Yoongi [14:34]: It’s expensive!! Gonna save up.

Shit, his cheeks can’t hide. Grinning like an idiot and you’re gonna get him caught in this fucking studio. 

But your next text? Your question? Wipes his whole expression and squeezes his lungs shut. 

Hustler [14:35]: how much? i might be getting a raise already so i can spot you🤪

Yoongi damn near drops his phone. 

Are you serious? You’d be willing to do that? For him? You see the price on that. You know how much it is. 

A shimmering feeling spreads throughout his chest, and he’s fighting everything to keep his vision from blurring. You have no idea how much this one text means to him. After all that fear and trauma that shattered his soul, you’re slowly stitching him back piece by piece. Even if his chest is constricting so hard he has to clutch it to keep it from breaking for an entirely different reason. 

Fuck, you’re everything. His beginning, his end, his every sleeping and waking moment. 

And you don’t even know how many of his lives you’ve saved. 

Hustler [14:38]: hey i’m sorry if that was overstepping. 

Hustler [14:39]: obv i know you can get it on your own, but i just got way too excited and wanted you to get it asap haha.. but yeah it’s a great investment either way so i say go for it!

Oh, fuck. Screw it. 

Rushing out of his swivel chair, Yoongi walks out of the studio, past a curious Jungkook and Namjoon with a finger already on the call button. 

Walk, walk, walk, get as far out as he can. The rings are blaring in his ears and his chest is on fire but this couldn’t wait. It’s the twentieth step that falters as you timidly answer with,

“Hello? Wait, are you okay?”

Instead of saying the first thing that comes to his mind, or even the second, Yoongi goes with the third. Which is fucking nothing because his mind is where his heart is and his voice is nowhere to be found.

“...Hello?” From the ruffles on the line, he can tell you’re getting up and going wherever the fuck you need to go. Because Yoongi knows he’d be doing the exact same thing. “Where are you.” 

He can only manage a slight chuckle before asking, “What are you doing to me…”

Your sigh of relief turns into a soft laugh. “I really am sorry. If you felt some type of way, I wanted to say that. Shit, I thought you were… I don’t know.”

“Just had to get some air cus of you,” he admits with a huff and shake of his shoulders. “Gonna ban you from my phone.” 

“There’s a word for that, you know.”

There you go again. Boldly teasing him while he’s on the clock? How you hit all of his hidden buttons so effortlessly, he really needs to know. Cheeks tight in a grin, Yoongi fires back, “You wanna try that again?”

“Oh, you don’t know? It starts with a B, too, you were so close!”

You are so fucking lucky you aren’t here with him. The urge to grab and attack your sides until you can’t stop laughing hits Yoongi like a wave, and he scrunches his nose until he counters with feigned nonchalance, “Okay, I see how it is. That’s fine..”

“No, wait, I—”

“I’ll remember that.”

“No!” That laugh is always contagious as hell. “Ah, whatever, you won’t do anything anyway.”

Nah. Even during his goodbye, Yoongi is already plotting. Because while you call his bluff on many things—a surprising amount of them—about this, you couldn’t be more wrong. 

“Guess you’re right, baby girl,” Yoongi says, using a low tone that always makes you shiver just right, “I sure won’t.”

He doesn’t have to tell you it’ll take four days to make that a blatant lie.

—

—

During the next studio session a few days later, everyone starts hanging out and messing around since things got wrapped up fairly quickly. Something about being organized and intentional can free up time or whatever. Yoongi just laughs at how simple yet how rare that really is in the industry he chose. 

As they jam with Woosung and the guys, he lets himself truly let go, feeling the flow of music and rhythm and playing away on one of the lingering guitars. It’s his first time touching one in so long without it cutting deep into his skin. 

It feels good. He’s not even that rusty. This is the best development in a long time. 

Even the band has compliments running all throughout the session, and it takes everything for Yoongi to not grin too wide or strain his cheeks in shyness. He knows he’s good, but hearing it from them is a little too much to handle. 

It also doesn’t help to feel a pair of eyes look his way a little too strangely. 

But soon after it ends, Yoongi finds himself out back again with Woosung, leaning against bricks as smoke fills the alleyway. 

“You seem okay today,” the singer notes through a small smile. “You gonna be alright?” 

“I am.” Yoongi watches the afternoon skies. “And I think so.” 

A small hum. “You have to say it like you mean it. Even if you don’t believe it, you have to try.” 

Shit, that’s a lot easier said than done. But Yoongi keeps his mouth shut and his eyes blinking, looking down and smelling wisps of tobacco. “What do you do when you..” Fuck, how should he say it? “What do you do when you keep falling back down?” 

Woosung takes a drag, and he seems to know what that means. “First I’d tell you the obvious. Keep picking yourself back up.” Coughing, he continues in a much more relaxed manner. “But honestly, you gotta figure out why it’s happening in the first place.” 

Yoongi looks his way.

“Once you deal with the reason for the fall, you know how to fight the push. The slip. Whatever you wanna call it.” 

With a deep inhale, Yoongi slowly focuses back on the sky, wanting to lose himself in the clouds drifting pass. 

Without a doubt, he knows what his push is. He’s just been too weak to fight it. Now that he has people helping—and you—it shouldn’t be as hard. “Thanks.” 

“You learn a lot on the road. And I can tell you wanna be on stage, you know. You’d kill it.” 

“You think so?” 

“I think you think so.” 

Yoongi laughs with him. Because the guy's not wrong. “I’ll get there. There’s not really any other options for me.” 

Woosung appraises him with pride. “There’s a few camps that are opening up spots. You guys should go to one. It’s good networking, if anything.” After flicking his cig, the singer then turns to fully face him. “Who knows? We might end up opening for you someday.” 

Huh? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Brows furrowed, Yoongi blinks before getting confused at the guy’s laugh.

“I’m not kidding. There’s something special about you, I can tell. You just need more time and space to let it grow.”

Mulling it over, Yoongi knows where the conflict is coming from. Yes, he does need to learn more and pretty soon, they could all outgrow that studio and move into another. But they have to push forward and try, even if they’ll be out of their element at these networking opportunities. “I’ll let them know,” he finally says.

“Good.” Woosung pushes off the wall with a shoulder. “I know you’re doing this for you, but… Is there someone else you’re doing all this for, too?” 

Yoongi nods without hesitation. 

“Then don’t leave them in the dark for much longer.” 

What the fuck? How did he know?

“If they catch you in a bad moment… You might lose them before you can even say sorry.” 

—

—

Yoongi strolls across another aisle before halting mid-stride, tugging himself into the seasoning and oil section to grab more of what he needs.

After work, he chose to stop by the nearest supermarket to grab things. And the more he walks through the different areas, the more he realizes just how much he’d been needing. Fuck, the damn bill is gonna be huge. 

But it’s all worth it. Surprising you with a hearty meal? Yoongi thinks he could do that every day for the rest of his life.

If only there was a nice spot in town you could also go. The ache he has to take you out and show you off has been reaching record highs, but he knows it’s not possible right now. 

Yoongi just wants to show you he’s cool with bringing you outside of his place. Never mind that it feels less like home, he’s more concerned about you thinking the worst. Thinking that things are over or limited when he has plans that extend beyond— 

Jimin: Incoming Call

A brow is raised before Yoongi answers, “Hey.”

“When’s the release party again?”

That was definitely not what he expected to be asked. Especially when Jimin has been texting him about movies and reminders about practice all day. “Uhh. In a couple weeks. Why?”

“Okay. I.. I dunno.”

Yoongi checks the expiration date on a carton before flat out blurting, “Just date him.”

A groan sounds on the line. “I just.. What if he doesn’t want to? Then I’ll look like an idiot.”

Putting back the first, Yoongi pulls out a second, approving the better date and lowering it into his cart. “Then he’s the idiot.”

“Well. He is.” A rueful laugh crunches through as the smell of cheeses and bread fill the air. “But only because of the way he looks at me.” 

Yoongi’s heart clenches. He feels the same about you, wondering how you could still regard him with those beautiful eyes and make him feel more than wanted. “If it helps, you look happy with him.”

“Ah, throwing my own words back at me now?”

“Guess so.” Yoongi flexes his jaw. “I just know how this feels.”

“When are you gonna tell him.”

His whole body locks. “I don’t know.”

“Dude.”

And his eyes slowly shut.

“It’s been long enough, you know that, right?”

Stopping off to the side, he leans onto his cart swallowed in his hood, ignoring a few passing looks and gnawing into his lip. “Course.”

“So do it. I get that you don’t want to, but you have to.”  

A hand angrily rakes through his hair, and he lowers his head to speak to the ground. Of course he would get this lecture in the middle of a fucking store. “He’s gonna fucking kill me and who knows what he’ll say to—”

“And I’ll be sending flowers and Tae will write you a song.”

A pause. Then a huff. Yoongi almost feels like it could be that simple.  

“She deserves this. You deserve to finally make this.. I dunno, real. Official, if you wanna call it that. Blessed? Wait, is that only for weddings—”

“Chim.”

“You get what I mean. And the most important—and I’m sure you know this because you’re not an idiot—he sure as fuck deserves to know.” 

“I know. We both do.” Yoongi sighs, hearing wheels squeak around him and various chatter. He knows he should move before weirding people out, but his feet feel glued to tile. “It’s just.. gonna be shit for all of us.”

“…At least it’ll be less shit if you tell him before he finds out on his own.”

Jimin is always right. 

“Also, I might need that keyring back soon if you aren’t even gonna put it to use. I wanna practice after work for the last game.”

“I am using it.” 

“Not how I planned.”

“How you planned?” What the hell does that mean? It’s just a set of keys that unlock the gym a ways away, and Yoongi uses it to play by himself after it closes so he’s alone. 

When he’s alone. Wait. 

“I’ll give it back,” Yoongi finally speaks. “After the game.”

There’s an audible groan on the other line. “Can’t believe I have to spell everything out around here.” 

Mustering enough strength to prop his head up, Yoongi finally rolls from his spot and heads to the front to pay. “Thanks, Chim.”

“Use it well. Make her happy, make you happy, make babies, make me a fun uncle, I don’t care.”

Yoongi outright laughs, heart beating a little faster. And he thought just shopping for groceries with you would be enough for him. Gotta hand it to Jimin for getting miles ahead of everyone else. Although… 

“But you have to tell him.” 

Dreams dashed through, he murmurs a quiet, “I know.”

“Yoongi… I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me, too.” Yoongi slips into line, waiting behind a young man giving his girl a cheek kiss and laughing at her dramatically wiping it away. “Thanks for everything.” 

“You can thank me by telling someone you need help next time. Even if it’s not me.”

As the girl goes to lift food to be scanned, she gets stopped by her boyfriend, watching with a small smile before helping him anyway. “I will.”

“Good. Love you.”

Yoongi swallows, eyes a little prickly for more than one reason. “Love you, too.” 

—

—

Even though Yoongi has been getting small evidence of your eating habits—as instated by him this past week—he’s still determined to get you more nourishment. 

He’s pretty sure you like the restaurant next door, so despite knowing this could get him in a world of trouble, he uses his lunch time to bring you food. 

Writing a note and some groceries he forgot to get last time, Yoongi sets it in the paper bag and walks to your building, still in disbelief that you’ve been this close this whole time. The pain of remembering how much of your life he missed while he was unreachable pangs his chest. But he deserves it, and you deserve a lot better. 

Finally on your floor, he walks up to the receptionist before immediately ignoring their wide eyes. 

“Who are you looking for?”

“My girlfriend. Just dropping this off.” 

“Oh.. This is so sweet of you.”

Yoongi doesn’t even give that declaration a second thought. It came out so naturally.

Maybe he really is ready to move on.

You aren’t there at your desk. Which is probably best because he’d just steal you away. So Yoongi quietly sets it on your empty space, looking at all the trinkets and pictures you have in your little world. Some are just adorable, but he spots a polaroid of your brother that clenches his chest. 

He was there for that. You both had matching cameras and took an impromptu picture of each other at the same time. He’s pretty sure your brother has yours very visible somewhere, too. 

But there’s no time to think because he’s gotta bounce. 

Walking fast past reception, he hears a quick, “Wait, are you not gonna wait for her?”

Pausing, Yoongi turns. “I….” 

On second thought? Yeah. Because fuck this sudden shyness, he's gonna take any chance to see you.

Be it from being impatient, or just really nervous, Yoongi waits around a nearby corner until you find your food. He needs to see your reaction to the note, because if you throw it out or ignore it? He’ll take that as the most glaring sign to give you space.

But when your hand slowly covers your mouth and your body quietly buckles, his heart beats so loud he thinks you can hear it, and his soul pulses so fucking hard his vision glosses over. 

You will never know what you truly do to him.

Back at the studio, Yoongi is locked in the rest of his shift. Because he isn’t just doing this for him now. There’s another reason he’ll be making it big. 

You’re still believing in him after all this time. You still stayed. 

And Yoongi will take over the whole world just to kneel at your feet to give it to you. 

—

—

The entire night is perfect. 

In fact, Yoongi’s entire life feels like it’s where it should be. Hanging out with you in a gym, starting another water fight because he still dreams about the one you sprung on him that day? This is what life is about. There are no shadows with him now that he’s fully in your light. 

And that carries him through the night and up until the game the next day. His sleep was restful, his spirits are high, and his mind is completely spotless. 

But with one glance at the man from Dalo, all the darkness comes rushing back in. 

—

—

Did you just tell them all to play? 

Even though the guy that assaulted you is on the other team, you want everyone to stay? To play out the game? 

Seeing you look so folded in on yourself, Yoongi’s chest feels twisted with immediate rage. How the fuck are these guys allowed to even be here? How did they make it this far? That fucker is staring him in the face and he’s trying unbelievably hard to not go over there and commit felonies. 

Honestly? If you’re really about this and want them to go ahead and play, Yoongi knows exactly how it’s gonna play out. All the scenarios are manifesting in his head and he can’t help but feel a sadistic elation knowing how fucked this other team is gonna be. 

But he looks at his best friend with heated eyes. “What do you wanna do?” 

It takes him awhile, but your brother responds exactly how he thought he would, “Fuck this shit up.” 

“Exactly.” 

At your addition, Yoongi looks your way, liking your spark but hoping you’re not overcompensating for anything. If you’re uncomfortable, they should just forfeit the game and bounce. 

You aren’t budging. You’re clearly shaking and yet, you are immovable in your decision. And it’s so like you and fuck he wants to kiss your fears away in front of the whole gym just so everyone including that dipshit knows you’re forever untouchable. “The fuckin’ nerve.” 

“Bold,” Jimin adds from where he stands, turning to you and dropping into oblivion to say what they’re all already thinking. “Don’t worry, love.” 

Yoongi turns to the other bench.

“This will be over soon.” 

—

—

Everything starts off exactly how they want it to. 

Turns out, Jimin’s regimen and practice schedule worked out in everyone’s favor. Now that they’ve played multiple games with each other, Yoongi and the other guys can communicate with just looks and moves alone. Which proves a huge advantage because they’re making the other team look completely unorganized. 

All those nights alone in that gym have also contributed to Yoongi’s form. This is the quickest it’s taken him to be in the zone and he’s even impressing himself with how sharp he is. 

No one can guard him. No one can stop him. It’s painfully obvious to them and he can’t help but laugh at their shock every time, shrug at their little team squabbles, smirk at the way this idiot can’t even keep up with him. Tragic? Worse. 

But things get dicey when Rohan fouls a little too hard, everyone nearly converging on him and the guy selling his pain as if it wasn’t just a normal swing. On cue, shoving and pushing happens, Yoongi being on the outskirts since he’s the last to get there. 

It’s over when the coaches come separate, but amongst all the racing heartbeats, your brother looks really focused coming out of the fray. Really calm. Which means something went down and he is fighting to keep his attitude in check. 

As they both head to the bench, Yoongi immediately gets the rundown. And his whole attitude ices over with a snap. 

“They know which car is mine.”

Fuck. 

That means one of two things. One, these guys just happen to really like knowing who drives what. Or two, this isn’t a game anymore. This isn’t the matchup—the real one is not going down on rec center floors. 

Yoongi is already repeating his apologies to you. 

Well, shit. May as well have some real fun with it now. If they can get the other team to call it quits here, they may have a shot at an easier standoff later. 

Right. 

—

—

Yoongi doesn’t like this one bit. The other team was too quiet to just have left without a word. 

They really will be meeting them in the parking lot. And suddenly, things get a little too real. 

This walk could be the last, depending on what they may have on them. The only shit those guys have against them is that this is a public center, and there could still be a lot of witnesses walking by— 

Thunder rumbles as they reach the end of the long awning jutting out from the rec center entrance, and Yoongi looks at the dark sky with lidded eyes.

Fuck. So much for people passing by. They may be left out there on their own for real.

“Still?”

At Jimin’s question, Yoongi nods. Because they still have to confront this group of cowards one last time, pouring rain or not. Revenge is never one to raincheck. 

Maybe they bluffed. Maybe the storm settled in some seconds thoughts. The lot still looks fine, with cars emptying out one by one as they walk and the space getting more scarce. Your brother’s car and Jimin’s exist in the same spot a ways down near the end. 

With more than an alarming number of guys surrounding them. 

Is that a whole fucking crew? Fuck, this was not the plan you need to get out of here and anywhere else but your place. 

Before Yoongi can say anything, your brother beats him to it. “Taehyung. Get her out of here. Now.” 

And your scream of resistance tears through every cell in his body. 

Yoongi can’t even fucking look at you, even if to burn the image of your face in his mind to get through this bullshit. Because if he does? He’ll be the one hauling you away and bringing you both to the safest place he can think of without a second or third thought. 

But he will not inconvenience his loving mother with a sudden visit just yet. When he finally brings you home, it will be for a different reason entirely. 

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—! No, let me go!” 

This is the thought that will keep him grounded. It has to. He has to face this situation because from the way things are looking, if they don’t settle this now, it will only get worse. For them, for you, for everyone. 

Fuck, your voice. It’s taking everything for Yoongi to keep his anger in check because, despite his malice, he’s the one that ultimately started this. He thought he was in the clear. What a fucking joke fuck you’re clawing at his ducts and he doesn’t need to look at your brother to know what he’s thinking. 

The man is fucking silent. 

And this is the one Yoongi remembers with full body shivers. The protector. The one that will do whatever’s necessary to save the ones he loves. This is the guy Yoongi has to eventually confront, if they—when they—get out of this situation in decent pieces. If your brother did what he did for him? What the fuck is he gonna do for you? 

But in all fairness. For the first time, Yoongi understands this side of his best friend. Because for you? There’s no limit to what he would do to keep you safe. What a fucking shame he’d left you in the dark for that long. If you hate him after this, he’ll deal with it. At least that means you were safe enough to say it. 

Woosung warned him. And Yoongi still didn’t heed the signs. 

But no use dwelling in it now. Your screams have morphed into sobs as Taehyung hauls you away. And with quick observation, Yoongi notices that even some of the faces he’s watching falter. 

You’re his everything. Your brother’s everything. And he fucking hates himself for all those opportunities he had to be by your side, all those times he could’ve just confessed but couldn’t because of his own damn faults. 

Rolling his shoulder, Yoongi braces for the storm, your brother finally speaking with a clutched phone behind his back as soon as you’re out of earshot, 

“Last chance.” 

The man from Dalo shoots out a huff of disbelief. “For what, motherfucker.” 

“To back off my fucking car.” 

Thunder rattles some of the guys into a step back, but your brother doesn’t move. Resolute, he brims with sinister energy, its bristles curling around Yoongi’s legs and hardening Jimin’s shoulders. Even some of the guys from the team have stayed behind, which doesn’t come as a shock seeing as how close they are with your older sibling. 

“That’s your play?” Dalo guy drawls before looking around. “Outnumbered and you’re worried about a little paint scratch?” 

Your brother only smirks like he has a secret. And Yoongi knows full well that it’s a bluff that always works like a charm. “I mean, I’d be worried if I were you, but. If you can skip a few months’ rent to pay off the damages, go ahead.”

More of the guys shuffle in nervousness, which is the sign they all need. If they actually leave, things should end quicker. All they have to do is hold it out long enough for them to talk. 

“How about this,” the man suggests, poison trickling down his curve before he swings his bat right into the side mirror of your brother’s car fuck. “Let’s see how many swings it takes for you to stop me.” 

“I’m gonna guess a few,” your sibling drawls under the blare of his car alarm, expertly hiding the fact that he’s pissed as another swing hits the passenger door. “Give or take.” 

“You shut the fuck up,” the leader growls, smashing the nearest window right out and grinning into the vehicle. “Oh, what’s this? I’ll take that, thank you.” 

“Don’t.”

Yoongi’s blood freezes as he sees exactly what the guy takes, noticing the matching polaroid that your brother has of you that’s always on the dash. 

Oh, fuck this noise and fuck this guy. Now he’s waving it like a little trophy? All bets are fucking off. No amount of morals will help him now and your brother turns downright murderous. 

“Think I’ll get a lot of good use out of this,” the assaulter boasts with a sinister grin, shoving the picture in his pocket that Yoongi can only assume reeks of sweat and cowardice. Thunder booms once more, and droplets start pinging off shoulders and sweaty heads. 

He wants to hurl thinking of what the guy means, and he doesn’t even realize he’s one step further than before until an arm stops him at his chest. Turning, Yoongi sees his best friends’ eyes ablaze but still facing forward, and he stops his strides—mind racing with rage. 

“Your girl looked good today, by the way!” The Dalo guy appraises with a lift of his chin, rain running down his angular cheekbones and staining his dark mesh. Yoongi snaps his gaze forward again because shit this is being addressed to him. “We got a nice view from our bench.” 

Fuck this dude. What the fuck is happening to his spiking heart rate? Is it anger? The rain? A thunderous mixture of both? 

On heavenly cue, thunder tears through the sky again, raindrops starting to pick up just to drown this guy’s talking, 

“Think it’s time for me to see her again? Her skin’s so soft, bet it feels like heaven when y’all fuck, huh?”

Don’t fucking break, don’t fucking break, stop clenching both fucking hands. 

“Not gonna share?” The man turns to your brother with the evilest glint in his eye. “Guess I can always stop by and ask her myself.” 

When the sky rains down in sheets, everything erupts at once. 

—

—

Gritty, darker days of the past melt into Yoongi’s vision as the night blurs and roars around him. 

For a brief moment in time, he doesn’t think they’ll make it. Youth has slipped its protection from their bones, taking the recklessness of their souls with it. They haven’t done this in ages. And it fucking shows.

Because Yoongi’s side hurts like a motherfucker and his palms sting with white hot singe. Rain and bodies slow in their motion as he takes it all in, and his eyes droop as he shifts closer to his friends—mind swirling like the lights pulsing down the street.

Your brother smacks into wet ground before wrenching himself back up, and a Jimin sporting a botched eye yanks him backward before distancing them all from another hit. The other guys from the team shield their blind spots, everyone now mangled and boxed in tighter and tighter.

This is because of him. He did this. He did all of this.

Mind and skin slick from the rain, his guards crumble. Dark thoughts flood back in and inundate his every crevasse. You deserve to hate him and you should you should you should. 

A prideful laugh erupts before yelling out, “Let’s get this over with, yeah?” 

“You aren’t gonna do shit,” your brother taunts.

“Think so?” As the man reaches behind his back, Jimin’s voice pierces like an arrow, 

“Watch it!”

Acting without thought, Yoongi bolts to his friend, knowing what to do but not having a plan for what’s next oh fuck what’s this guy pulling out—

“Yoongi!”

If anything, he can at least go out with the knowledge that he kept your brother safe. You’ll be safe with him. Yoongi will find a way back to you even if it takes another lifetime or two. 

Rain roars down as something dark is pulled from the man’s pants. But Yoongi can barely make out what it is as he shoves your brother out of the way.

"No!"

He's frozen. He can't fucking move. Your bright light is the only thing that flashes into his mind as he stares into glinting, vengeful eyes.

But everyone else will be safe. That is the most important. The only thing that matters. 

Suddenly, sirens sound from a ways down, everyone flinching in the downpour. Lights swirl and swirl, and it’s your brother’s exhausted admission that shocks everyone, 

“Those are for you, by the way.”

“The fuck?” The man backs up immediately, shocked when half the guys are already scrambling off. “You fuckin’ snitched?”

“What can.. I say,” your sibling huffs through heavy breaths. “Don’t mess.. with my fuckin’ car.”

“Bullshit.” 

“Stay if you want.” Straightening with a repressed wince, your brother sets a hand on Yoongi’s good shoulder before walking right up to the man that assaulted you, weapon in hand be damned. “It’ll make it easier for them to spot you. You know, with all the cameras and shit.” 

“…Huh?”

“We’re in a public lot, genius.” He wipes blood from the side of his face, looking up behind him at the very obvious camera positioned on the nearest floodlight. “And if we run the tape back, y’all smashed my property.” 

The man slowly smiles. “And you’re on the same footage instigating a fight. What if I just…” Something happens between their bodies, but Yoongi can’t see what. “Do it right here? Defend myself?”

Your brother raises his shoulders before exaggerating a sigh. “See, the thing is…” Hands on his hips, he reminds Yoongi of you, flinging him back to a very similar rainy afternoon with much less harrowing stress. How he’s remaining so calm is unfathomable. “You broke into my car and stole from me. Anyone seeing that footage—you know, before the rain—is just gonna see… Well, us trying to stop you.”

The sirens get louder and louder, and more of the guys have long gone by now. But your assaulter stays in disbelief, eyelids blinking away rain and arms shaking. “They can’t catch me from those cams.”

“Probably. But they can pick up your voice from my recordings.” Looking down, your brother finishes with bored finality, expertly ignoring the fact that he's millimeters from death. “And you have my picture in your pants, dumbass.”

Yoongi’s never seen someone slam a hand into their pockets so fast. As the polaroid falls into puddles, a voice quivers while something is tucked back in wet pants, “Fuck you.” 

Before he can run, the man gets snagged by his jersey, sirens blaring closer and closer as your brother unleashes his final threats, “Since you did the smart thing and spared me, I'll be nice. But I don’t wanna see you, I don’t wanna see any of them. Come around again, and I’ll make sure you never see daylight, you understand?” 

Fully rattled, the man throws his hands up with a growl, “Fine, I got it! Fuck!” 

With the last dashes of a coward, the team is left alone in the lot. 

Turning their drenched heads and shoulders just in time to see the cops fly by.

—

—

After a quick check to make sure no one’s sporting a major injury, all the team members that stayed are told to go home before any other cops come to ask what’s up. Your brother finishes calling a tow truck for his battered pride and joy, and Yoongi rejoins him with a very silent Jimin. 

Even though the rain never stops, the three of them wait until everyone else is driving off. Until everyone else is safely on the way back to some place dry. 

When alone, the three of them turn to each other without a single word. 

It’s done. It’s really done.

—

—

Just sliding into the passenger seat of Jimin’s car makes Yoongi hiss in pain. 

Groans from the others fill the humid space, and Jimin makes sure the lot is completely cleared again before watching his rearview mirror. “How the fuck did you know the cops would come?” 

“I didn’t.” 

Jimin’s good eye widens. “That was just coincidence?” 

“So was the rain being this bad.” 

Fucking hell, they lucked out on every single thing they could’ve lucked out on. If it went down any other way? At least one of them would’ve been lying face down on pavement. 

Swallowing, Jimin clutches his wheel with one hand before asking next, “Well.. What are you gonna do? You leave tomorrow, right?”

They’re about to talk about the towed, smashed car he called in. So Yoongi’s just gonna lean into his seat and try to fucking breathe. 

“Yeah,” your brother huffs out. “Umm. I’m not sure. There’s no getting out of this trip, and I can’t exactly tell my boss what happened.” 

“Need us to bring it into the shop tomorrow?”

“Really? Damn, that’d be perfect, thanks. I’ll just get a ride to the airport in the morning then.” 

Yoongi winces to himself as he adjusts, hearing a groaning curse from the backseat at the same time. “You sure you’re good to leave tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” The man sighs. “Couple hours of ice and some bandages should do it. And the suits will cover most of me up.” 

“K.”

Jimin starts the car, hand gripping the center console so hard his veins pop. “I gotta say… That was the first time I’ve been that scared. In a long time.”

The whole space falls silent in agreement.

It’s your brother that croaks out next. “The last time we were in shit that deep.. Yoong got his back thrown into that barbed fence.”

At that, Yoongi looks out the window.

“But the important part is that we made it. And they won’t be coming around now that we have shit on them. Fuck, the way I wanted to just—”

Yoongi cuts his sentence off immediately, “Luckily you chose logic.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“We just all have someone to live for now,” Jimin grits out with frustration. “So can we just.. Not do this anymore?”

Another hush of understanding falls over the group, and everyone quietly agrees. 

“Good.” Jimin rolls his car forward and starts calling someone, setting his phone down while Taehyung’s name shows on his car screen. 

“Hey.”

He answered. Which means you’re right at his side. Fuck, Yoongi’s heart is pounding so hard it’s drowning out the rainfall. Your voice. He needs it. He’ll take anything you have to say. 

“Hey.” 

“You okay?”

Jimin’s tongue prods his cheek. “Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

“Say it.”

As Jimin relays the damage, Yoongi starts picking at his fingernails in nervousness, something he hasn’t done in so long but still feels like second nature. “My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—” 

“Where is he.”

Oh. That’s really you. 

Shit.

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. What the fuck is he laughing for? What about any of this could possibly be funny? 

“This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?” 

“With us,” Jimin slowly answers, as if this suspense is good for anyone. “In the car.” 

At least he has enough mercy to start out with including your brother. Hopefully that first response was enough to clue you in before saying anything more damning. Not that something damning wasn’t already said. Fuck, this wasn’t exactly what Yoongi meant when he said he wanted to hear you. But goddamn if his soul isn’t already pulsing at the thought of you asking about him. 

After another beat, Jimin decides to spell it out for you. And Yoongi feels like he’s about to dangle from a precipice. “Your brother’s here, too.” 

“Ah… Am I on speaker.” 

Both Yoongi and Jimin look at the center screen, already knowing your brother is looking, too. “Umm.. Yeah.” 

Whatever Yoongi thinks you’re gonna do or say? Is nothing compared to what you actually do. He hasn’t been this chewed out in ages and the pit in his stomach morphs into a void.

“Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.” 

The man in the back tries to cut you off to no avail. “Hey, wait a damn minute—” 

“I waited long enough!” 

Yoongi physically feels his whole soul sag with guilt, guilt, guilt. 

“I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.” 

“He was gonna—”

“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” 

Yes, they all know. In fact, Yoongi is still mentally running from that one split second of terror. If the dude from Dalo was reaching, that could only mean a couple things and he doesn’t wanna think of either one. How the fuck is he supposed to face you now? When he almost got—

“Just tell me one thing… Is this gonna happen again?” 

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.” 

Yoongi hopes to everything in the universe that it’s true. Judging by the fear in those eyes? The way they all ran? There’s no way they’re coming back. But the adrenaline pulsing through his cuts and bruises gives some room for doubts. 

“Okay… Are you okay?” 

Your sibling answers yet again, making things seem much less concerning than they really are. As usual. “Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

“Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am. I’m going to Yuri’s.” 

That shake in your voice will stay for a very, very long time. Even as his best friend dares to question you, Yoongi’s throat remains shut. “What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.” 

“I just—No.” Fuck. Your pause is the loudest thing. It’s long enough to make them all think you’ve hung up, but he has a feeling the next thing you say will crush him. 

And he’s right. 

“I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.” 

You mean that. There’s no doubt in Yoongi’s mind that you’re dead set on cutting them all off with no hesitation. And they all deserve it, especially him. What they did tonight was idiotic and could’ve been avoided in a thousand ways. You have every fucking right to be furious. Truthfully, you’re kinda letting them all off easy.  

Once again, your brother is the spokesperson for the car. Because why would anyone else be, right? “…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.” 

“…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up so fast it cuts Yoongi’s breath in two. 

Silence follows. Followed by a multitude more. Unspoken thoughts are forming dark clouds in the car, stuffing the space and jamming cotton in everyone’s ears. 

In the rear view mirror, Yoongi watches his friend rub both hands over his face before a fist bangs against leather upholstery, Jimin reacting immediately with a quick,

“Behave.”

“Sorry.” A rustle of clothes and guilt follows. “I just… My sister’s right. What the fuck are we doing anymore? This one was stupid.”

“All the fights we’ve been a part of have been stupid,” Jimin tuts, looking over his shoulder and wincing before turning a corner. “Fuck, my eye.”

Yoongi offers with a hand still slung over his waist, voice hoarse, “Need me to drive?” 

“No one with a death wish gets to drive my car.” Jimin hisses out another whoosh of pain. “But no, I can make it to his place.”

“K.”

“And she’s right.” Jimin rolls to a stop at the next light. “Even if tonight was coming, this could’ve been prevented. Or done another way. Honestly, I’m surprised we made it out.”

“Same,” Yoongi agrees. 

“Glad I got his shit recorded,” your brother sighs, wincing while adjusting his seat. “They shouldn’t be able to refute the recordings in court—fuck—if it gets to that point.”

“What happens if they—”

“Forget about them,” Yoongi interjects, earning two looks of shock and feeling a little surprised himself. When the car starts moving again, he works his hurt jaw, trying to figure out how to word his ever twisting thoughts. “We didn’t tell her anything and that’s where we fucked up.”

Did that come out too upsetting? Can he blame it on his aching side? Does it even matter anymore? Does anything?

“How do you know that.”

Stiffening ever so slightly, Yoongi uses his battered side as an excuse to shift. Wincing, he looks at the center console, choosing not to peer out the window on purpose. Face this shit now. Tell the truth in parts to control it,

“She told me.” 

Jimin doesn’t acknowledge that answer, instead turning at the next corner and checking his mirrors. 

“When.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi’s mouth is drying out so fast he doesn’t taste the blood anymore. Everything feels like sandpaper, scratching his tongue, tearing his esophagus to shreds. The rasp that results rips his throat red,

“After—”

“After I told her everything,” Jimin jumps in, throwing a blanket over his fire. As Yoongi gives him a look, he continues with eyes on the road, “At that party you hosted a few days after you came back.”

Thank god the blond knows to step up when he’s needed. Yoongi still can’t think straight and was about to admit he called you during that party. Full on busted. And how would that have gone? 

“The party I…? Oh, the one that Sunday? Fuck.” Your brother wipes his lower face before shutting tired eyes. “I remember now. Cus I was gonna tell her back then, but everyone started coming over.” 

“We should’ve told her before Dalo even happened,” Yoongi says with a sag to his voice. 

Thankfully, all suspicion and tightness is gone from your sibling’s voice. Only agreement resonates. “Yeah.. Yeah.” 

More silence washes over the car, sweat and rainwater caked on skin while blood hardens in layers. Though Jimin makes no comment, Yoongi knows he’s gonna pay for any damages just sitting in here will accrue. 

Rolling up to your house, Jimin parks in the driveway, all of them still wordlessly suffering because of all the shit he started. 

Yoongi can’t see it any other way. This all happened because of him, whether his best friend says so or not. Yeah, he threw that punch on the court back then, but Yoongi’s the one that fell for the taunts. How fucking stupid. And to think he thought all of this would just, what, go away with time? 

You reached for him on the court this last game. You were begging for him to tone it the fuck down. Once again, he didn’t listen, blinded by the anger boiling over—at that coward, and at himself. 

But you’re safe, your brother is safe, and everyone that fought today is fine. Yoongi’s gonna count every blessing that he can before the darkness wins again. 

“Thanks for driving, Chim,” your brother grunts as he opens the door. “And Yoongi?” 

He turns to look his way. Staring right into those eyes laser focused and exhausted to hell all at once. Not even the pouring rain can divert either of them from breaking contact. 

“Get out of the fucking car.”

Fuck.

Yoongi works his cheek before grunting out of the doorway, winding the car and knowing Jimin is on high alert inside. If this is about you? If this is the battle he was supposed to fight for months? 

Maybe he’s not making it out tonight after all. 

As soon as Yoongi gets close, he’s yanked forward by the collar, eyes unmoving as he knows not to flinch. He’s gonna own his shit, as much as he’s scared out of his fucking mind right now. 

Words rip low from your sibling’s lips, “Whatever the fuck you did? Don’t even think about doing it again.” 

And there it is. 

The door he’d been so desperate to open has been sealed completely shut, caught in this torrential downpour and retreating so far back he can’t see it any longer. “I’m sorry,” he rasps out. “I was gonna—”

“Jimin’s right. You got a fucking death wish? What the fuck is wrong with you? How would you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” 

Ice blocks all his veins, freezing his chest over and chilling him below his bones. Everything from the moment you knocked on his door to now comes rushing past his vision and breaking in lightning quick snaps. 

All Yoongi wanted to do was protect you. And now he’s gonna lose both of you. 

Shoving him backwards, your brother growls out. “I just… Are you fucking serious?” He sighs to the ground, rain drenching his already slicked head and steaming shoulders. “You got one life, and a future bright as fuck. Stop throwing it away so easily, or we’re done.” 

What?

Now Yoongi’s eyes jolt for another reason. Shock thrums and resets his body, forcing it to grapple with the real conflict between them. “This is about me saving your life?” 

“What the fuck else would it be!” Your sibling rushes forward and shoves him again, and Jimin is fully springing out of his car now. “The fuck were you thinking?”

“What the hell are you two doing?” 

“You’re fucking kidding me. Are you serious? He was about to—”

“I can handle my own shit!”

Jimin keeps a bull from charging again, full on forcing him back. “What the fuck!”

“I can save you from an idiot with a gun,” your sibling grits out like it’s hurting him from the inside, “But not her, dude.” 

Her? What the fuck?  

“Yeah, don’t think I believed you for a fucking second. She’s still there, huh? I can see it all over your face!”

As Jimin stills in his pushing, Yoongi’s feet start to get tugged into the earth. 

“Look at you. Gone for days at a time, starting shit on the court, and just—throwing yourself out with no plan? Do you even care about your life anymore?”

Thunder cracks the sky once more, punctuating his words on impact.

And it's Jimin’s turn to shove his friend back, voice tightened in ice, “I suggest you choose your next words very carefully.”

“Do you?”

Life slows around Yoongi, magnifying the pain he feels in his side and the blow he took straight to the lip. Everything hurts. Everything’s numb. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this isn’t what he bargained for at all. And even though it’s been forever since he’s seen his ex, he can feel her ghost howling and grinning like a victor, tearing his heartbeats to shreds. 

Your brother’s right about her still being burrowed in his place. That has been the case for months and he needs to fix that. But caring about his life? Of course he does. Did it look like he was just throwing himself out? Truthfully he doesn’t remember everything he did he just acted on pure instinct. “That’s not.. It’s not like that—”

Shucking off a persistent Jimin, your brother straightens and backs up a step. “Someone to live for, huh? Yeah, count me the fuck out. Her? What the fuck, Yoong?” 

No. Not this again. Say something. Say fucking anything to fix this shit. The dread that settles into his stomach is finding permanent residence because he’s about to lose his best friend for the wrong reason, “Listen, I—”

“Save it. As long as you’re still with her I am done.”

The panic in Jimin’s eyes matches his own, his hands trembling as he keeps them separated, “It’s not like that, okay? Both of you need to—”

“Get out.”

Yoongi and Jimin still, with the latter asking a shocked, slow, “What?”

“You heard me.” Your brother backs up towards the house, rain falling in rivers across his skin and failing to hide the streams from his eyes. “Get his ass home. I’m not saying shit until she’s gone.” 

“But she’s—she’s not even—”

“I’m out.” 

—

—

Rain stains the windows of Jimin’s car in splotches. 

After the entire drive goes by in silence, Yoongi slides tired eyes up to see his place coming into view. 

“Yoongi.” 

He doesn’t respond. 

“I’m staying with you tonight.” 

Shutting down, he gives his friend a shoulder so cold even he regrets it. “No.” He knows Jimin’s already red-rimmed and teary. So he keeps his head down and arm slung over his waist. “Taehyung needs you.” 

“Please,” Jimin begs, voice wavering and full of fear. Which is justified. He knows what will happen if he’s left alone. “I’m staying. I can get him and we can both stay, just—”

“Not tonight.” 

A sniffle is the only response. “I fucked up. I’m so sorry I messed it all up, but please don’t do anything when I’m not there to—”

“I’ll be fine.” Yoongi clicks the door open, greeted by the boom of thunder and endless rain. He can hear the desperation in his best friend’s pleas, but this is something he can’t let anyone witness. Not feeling in control of his body is frightening, and he needs to be isolated. Again.

Before shutting the door, he turns. “This is something I have to do alone.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’ll… I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.” 

More sobs wrack Jimin’s body as he wipes his bruised eye with shaky fingers. “Promise me there’s a tomorrow.” 

Oh. Jimin thinks the worst. Fuck, Yoongi is hurting all of his friends in every fucking way possible. “Chim,” he sighs, rain lowering his temperature so much he shakes. “It’s not like that at all. K?” 

“Okay.” 

“I just… Yeah. We’ll talk about it when I’m ready.” 

“Yoongi,” Jimin halts him right as he’s closing the door. “I really am sorry.” 

And he looks down at the seat he just occupied, rainwater and sweat and regret and relief all sunk into leather upholstery,

“Me, too.” 

—

—

As Yoongi stumbles into his apartment, he doesn’t bother to turn the lights on. Why would it matter if all they’ll do is highlight the repercussions of his decisions? The stupid fucking decisions ever since the day he damned you all. 

A shadow snickers, wrapping around his brain and forcing him to recite them all once again. Just like he had been over the last three months. 

Yoongi’s shoes trip over nothing as he stumbles, careening to the floor and smacking a bruised shoulder on impact. White hot pain zings up his limb, shoving out a curse and a wheeze as he lies still because he can’t. Fucking. Move. 

All he wanted to do was protect you. Those guys were loaded with dark intentions and he lost it defending your honor. But that doesn’t negate the fact that he put you and your brother in danger. He’s the one that started the fight on the court that day, he’s the one that messed up by making you feel unwanted. Danger? He put you in that. The club? He put you in there, too, and almost tore his mind apart when he saw what happened to you there. What did you say to him afterward? When you both were in the safety of your own bed? 

“I was so scared.” 

Yoongi punches the floor, gritting his teeth before willing himself to get. Up. Limb by limb, muscle by muscle, he slowly rises to his feet, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his damp, bloody clothes. Because it’s done. The danger won’t reach anyone he cares for any longer, and yet… 

He can barely change into new garments as his mind flashes with more reminders, like how he messed up rushing to defend you at the party, making his best friend silently size him up and wrenching daggers in his side. Even leaving you to deal with his shadow fucked you up, because he couldn’t bring himself to tell you why he even left in the first place. 

But there’s a lot of that hesitation going around. After all, he hasn’t even confessed to you brother yet. Just the thought makes him want to hurl, and he almost does. 

But Yoongi quickly shakes his head, as if doing so flings the memories away. He stalks through his living room, his path illuminated by the flashes of lightning and shaken by the booms of angry thunder. 

You may as well command the very skies. Because your rage seems to mirror them tonight, and he cannot blame you one bit for tearing them all apart. God, he can’t get that tremble in your voice out of his fucking head. You sounded so hoarse, so broken, so defeated and yet so strong. 

In a screwed up way, Yoongi is proud of you for telling them off, setting off a new conversation that ended in them making amends to how they settle things from now on. They all deserved that as much as they needed it. 

You’re too good for him. Yoongi has thought this once before, but it’s more than true now as he stops at the corner of his living room. The darkest one. The one that's been driving him to the brink of insanity and back again.

It’s so loud right here. 

Darkness winds around him in waves, only fleeing when lighting floods the room. His face pulses in pain just as much as his side, and he hunches forward, almost touching the neck of his black guitar case. 

Yoongi can only stare. 

He messed up a lot of things. He knows that. And yet, you haven’t run from him once. Even when he fucked up again, and again, and again, you never ran. That day you almost walked out the door? Yoongi’s heart crumpled and squeezed when he saw you turn right back, eliminating that stabbing fear in his chest and replacing it with a heal of hope. 

But you finally cut him off tonight. 

And honestly, that was the best decision you could’ve made. 

Gripping the firm cloth of the case, he unzips from the top, moving in slow, calculated motions. Thunder rumbles overhead, and he almost flings back to the first time this instrument of disaster was gifted to him. But he fights the memory, quietly choking the guitar by the neck and lifting it from its confines. 

He hears it gasping. Fuck, he hears the screaming. 

And therein lies the root of his manic war. 

This isn’t just an instrument. This isn’t just an object. 

It’s a life. 

If he does anything to it, the guilt will forever mar his conscience. He’ll carry this violence wherever he goes. 

But what else can he do? If he throws it out and someone finds it, the shadow can come back to haunt him. Or inflict its power over someone else. Is that too much of a stretch? Is he truly going insane now? 

A fuck up. A screw up. For as long as he can remember, Yoongi believed those were all used to describe him. However, if you have taught him one thing in the time he’s orbited your presence, it’s a simple fact. He may be a fuck up, and he may be a screw up… 

But he was still a good person. 

Those labels plagued him for years, had him questioning his very existence and rocked him off balance every time he stepped out of line. 

All this time, those words were a projection, flung at him with the intention of making them stick until he couldn’t rub them off. Mud, mud, so much mud had been flung onto his brain and buried his very essence so far deep that he couldn’t even find it anymore. Even his vision dulled, colors looked less vivid, life didn’t feel worth living. 

But Yoongi has fucking had it with the sludge. He already faced your nightmare head on just to keep you safe. If he had to trudge through a thousand miles of sludge next just to get to you? He’s doing it. Because you’re so fucking worth it and he’s not wasting anymore fucking time on these lies, these half-truths, this bullshit. 

Tightening fingers around polished wood so hard that strings bite into his skin, Yoongi turns, lightning flashing and casting his own shadow into his room. 

His shadow. No one else’s. He’s not letting there be two of them in here any longer. 

The screaming reaches a shrill cry.

A dizzying thought roars in his brain once more, crumpling him at the waist and making his ribs sting. Breaths ragged, he squeezes both eyes tight and heaves at the painful pulse of his head. 

That whole time away didn’t even matter, did it? All it took was one phone call to have your brother on his ass yet again. 

Fuck. Is he gonna have to keep his distance again? Shit. He didn’t think about that under all the pain he’s sporting right now, all the mental assault he’s enduring because it is relentless tonight. 

Goddamn it. He can’t deal with another three months away from you. Even three days without you sounds like agony and death right now, because he has to spend his days and nights with the monster in his hand. The dark will await him once more, but he doesn’t want it anymore. It’s not part of him. It’s not it’s not it’s not. 

Eyes slowly opening, Yoongi slowly straightens as much as his ribs allow, shifting his lidded eyes to the weight he carries. 

Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

But how? He can’t move to throw it away. His feet stay glued to the floor as he struggles to even carry it another second. His chokehold slips, staccato notes giving way to a cacophonic hum as the bottom of the instrument hits the floor. 

Get rid of it. 

It’s like you’re speaking to him. But how is that possible? Is this what happens when one descends into madness? Because that’s what Yoongi feels in the marrow of his bones. Burdened by the fact that no matter what he does, he’s gonna mess it all up. No matter what he tries, it will be in vain. He’ll never be happy. He’ll never get the future he wants. The future with you. With you, with you, with you, wasn’t he just fighting for you? What the fuck is happening to his brain? 

Get rid of it. 

He can’t. 

Get rid of it. 

He can’t. 

Throw it out. All of it, all of it. 

…Can he? 

Yoongi struggles to breathe, heaving out dry, bitter struggle once again. His limbs almost give under the weight of the mud, the pile of sludge. The door seems so far away and he can’t crawl to it any more. There’s too much trash. There’s too much pain. 

Your voice rings across his mind one more, desperate time. 

Get rid of it. 

And someone’s wise words from awhile ago echo right behind like a ripple. A mantra. A reminder.

“If there’s something you need to get through...” 

Manic resolve seizes the reins. 

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Lightning flashes in slow motion as Yoongi doesn’t even feel himself. He hears the bangs, the crashes, the splinting of wood and shrieking of glass as something enormous tramples through his living room. But nothing feels real, his vision isn’t his, those lifts of his arms aren’t his doing as swing, after swing, after heavy final swing hits in front of him. 

This is everything he wanted to unleash in that parking lot. Every movement swathed in rage.

Strings snap, whipping out in all directions as glittery rain falls onto his rug and his floors, skittering in all directions and glinting off the storm light outside. 

His throat is hoarse. His ribs are worse. 

And his brain goes completely dark. 

—

—

When Yoongi blinks, his living room looks unfamiliar. 

Until he wakes amongst millions of shattered pieces, surrounding his bloody limbs in a descent suspended in time. 

Somewhere, what was once a guitar is split in pieces, slain in cold blood to be rid of the shadow inside. A death necessary for life. Yoongi vows to never break an instrument like that again. 

He did it. It finally happened. The only shadow he can see is his. 

…Right? 

Yes. Yes. It’s over.

—

—

Floating. 

Endless, endless floating. The ocean of his mind is calmer without the scepter in the room, but he’s so exhausted he can only move his eyes.

There’s a voice in the dark box he puts himself in. But that doesn’t make sense, does it? When he’s supposed to always end up alone. 

Jimin did his best. So did everyone else. But it’s a simple fact that, in the end, it’s only gonna be him here, listening to you call out to let you in.

Wait. That’s really you. You’re calling him? Has he been responding? When the fuck did he even answer his phone? 

No. You shouldn’t be here tonight. Not tonight. Not like this. 

Regret and anger fill him to the brim as he screams at himself to not push you away. But he will, breaking his own heart to save you from seeing him in his aftermath. You don’t need to see this. You should be miles from where he lies. 

“Not tonight.”

But on the other side of his door, you are fighting like you never have before. 

“Yoongi, I swear to god—” 

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Why? Why are you still there? Why are you trying so hard and why does your effort hit him square in the chest? In his mind, he’s reaching for the door but he can’t get there. Still so far away. But you’re screaming for him to try. Begging. 

“I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

It takes everything for him to utter your name, because he feels like even that he doesn’t deserve to say. 

He could hang up. He could just shut you out. So why isn’t he? Is he turning away, or clinging on to your outstretched hand? 

Yoongi knows why he’s still on the line. It’s because he needs you. Fuck, he needs you and yet he wants you the furthest distance possible. You can’t see this. Any of this. You’d cast him away and never look back.

Which is why he finally reaches the point of begging, “Please.”

Your silence drags on. Only the shaky, quick breaths you exhale fill the deadened air and squeeze his lungs. 

Go. Don’t go. Stay. Run. 

No matter what Yoongi begs you to do, he’s already screaming at himself to do something. Because even if he doesn’t let you in, you’re just gonna keep standing there. Three months you kept your distance, and you’ll wait another ten until he lets you in. That’s just who you are.

And that’s the you he fell in love with. 

But Yoongi feels the most broken he could ever feel. The most damaged, though the worst is over now. What are you going to say? How are you going to react? Will you run? 

Will you leave? 

Don’t leave. 

Don’t leave him alone. 

Heart on its last desperate breaths, Yoongi lies still, hoping you say something yet begging for you to take one last chance. 

He thought it was best to be left alone. And now he’s silently calling out for you to open the door. 

“…No.” 

His heart pulses waves throughout the living room, beating stronger and stronger and yanking his limbs into action. 

Breathe. Focus. Get the fuck up and walk, crawl, do anything but just get to the fucking door. 

So crawl he does. Across shards, across rainwater, across the damage he dealt to the last piece of him that needed breaking. Your effort cannot be left alone and he’s going to meet you halfway. 

Fuck, he’s still cold. Still wet. But he will keep crawling on forearms until he can muster the courage to stand up and let you in—no matter how long it fucking takes. The ground feels like sludge and dirt and blood and it’s so dark. He may drown here. But that won’t stop him because he will trudge through hell to reach your voice and this is one and the same. 

Almost there. 

Stand the fuck up. 

Unlock the door. 

As soon as your face comes into view, Yoongi doesn’t quite register what you say but he’s already preparing to—

With a sudden fit of strength, he grips your waist and tugs you back into him, both to keep your feet from danger and to selfishly feel the warmth of his only source of sunlight. 

You’re silent. You’re still. 

“I told you, doll.”

Your sob is all he needs to know. Instead of the pain of you choosing to leave, Yoongi gives you the out one more time. 

Despite desperately wanting you to stay right by his side. 

“Go home.”

-

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tbc in fugue, pt. iv

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so... thoughts before the last fugue? | join the server! | fugue pt. iv

a/n: we have one more part to fugue left, and if you guys remember everything that happens after reader sees the wreckage.. let's just say the rest is gonna be the most important, most heartfelt parts from yoongi's pov. i seriously cannot wait to share this last fugue chapter with you all, and i wanna do it the most justice i can offer. a/n 2: i love you all so much, and i've missed being here. thank you all again for being so patient with me as i work through an entire inner working of 3tan yoongi. i knew i wanted to take this on, but i did not account for how much it would affect me mentally. it's been a rough but necessary journey for the both of us. all we know for sure is that we needed to brave the sludge to end in full bloom. and that's where we are finally heading next. ++ 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 3: we have a slight goal to hit before 3tanfugue4 is posted! i want to make sure we have activity here before posting the next part, and some of you guys suggested that we have post goals to encourage interaction. so we're gonna try it and see how it goes! if we don't dig this idea, we can go back to normalcy after fugue4.

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!

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind. 

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst. 

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself. 

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat. 

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks. 

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans. 

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is. 

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house. 

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away. 

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.” 

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.” 

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly. 

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off. 

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart. 

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers. 

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together. 

Taboo, even. 

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just… 

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span. 

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag. 

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day. 

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall. 

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to? 

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.” 

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” 

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday. 

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest. 

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact. 

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets. 

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again. 

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter. 

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street. 

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans. 

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?” 

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too. 

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.” 

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?” 

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.” 

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead. 

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought. 

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point. 

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return. 

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand. 

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—” 

“Course I don’t.” 

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again? 

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again. 

What the hell is up with today? 

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now? 

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too. 

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first. 

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously. 

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached. 

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.” 

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.  

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time? 

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street. 

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.” 

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.” 

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one. 

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.” 

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence. 

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home? 

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.” 

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences. 

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.” 

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over? 

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.” 

Ah. 

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!” 

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk. 

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting. 

And he looks impatient as hell. 

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived. 

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?” 

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second. 

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question? 

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks. 

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it. 

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.” 

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence, 

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once. 

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right. 

Left seems promising. 

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. 

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared. 

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby. 

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance. 

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out. 

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form. 

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge. 

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere. 

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here? 

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase. 

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win. 

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful. 

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on? 

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight. 

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now. 

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you. 

What do you do? What even can you do? 

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance. 

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!” 

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.  

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life. 

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!” 

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him. 

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do… 

This one thing… 

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you. 

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck. 

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply, 

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?” 

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet. 

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward. 

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant. 

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now. 

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.” 

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.” 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages. 

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill. 

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.” 

Live with it. How poetic. 

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor. 

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps. 

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling. 

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe. 

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs. 

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down? 

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same. 

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.” 

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now. 

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?” 

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit. 

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought. 

This is going too well. 

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now. 

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded. 

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime. 

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run. 

You’re really doing this. 

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go. 

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front. 

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns. 

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine. 

And he’s… enjoying this? 

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees. 

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit. 

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between. 

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes. 

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face. 

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life. 

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no. 

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is— 

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd. 

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.” 

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside. 

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in. 

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear, 

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.” 

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either. 

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun. 

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight. 

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes. 

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever. 

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey. 

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck! 

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day. 

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts. 

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory. 

Did you both really make it this far? 

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do. 

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three. 

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not. 

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.” 

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.” 

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it, 

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right? 

Right? 

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop. 

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it. 

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up. 

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again. 

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all. 

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive. 

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district. 

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head. 

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward. 

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head. 

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore. 

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name! 

“Agust!” 

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle. 

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt. 

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now. 

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection. 

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way. 

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry. 

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by. 

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time. 

Your tangerines… 

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away. 

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal. 

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake. 

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers. 

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.” 

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?” 

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.” 

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.” 

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.  

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.” 

Mm. 

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow. 

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. 

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have? 

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now. 

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust. 

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train. 

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—” 

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.” 

“Understood.” 

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling. 

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with? 

…Who exactly did you save? 

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into. 

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman. 

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

—

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

nsfw warnings: *deep breaths*, multiple smut scenes, public sex, fingering, kim namjoon lol, yoongi l o fucking l, the chain stays on but who the hell is shocked, protected sex, oral (f rec), cowgirlinggg, voyeurism, exhibitionism (ish.. you'll see lol), yoongi's tongue (multiple reasons), dirty talk good sweet lord, everyone is hot i swear to GOD, jung hoseok is a problem i wish to have, spanking, head/hair pulling, back shotsss, manhandling, namjoon can talk ur clothes off, feelings...?, you will fall for everyone and i am not sorry, kissing bc this is now a required warning y'all told me to put sdlkfjdskl

Before you know it, time passes and passes.

Weeks go by and you keep your options super open, with the occasional run-in with Yoongi and the strangely refreshing dates with Namjoon. 

As much as you want things to move forward with the latter, he’s kept every meet-up early and short, and he always checks his phone with pure concentration before heading out. 

Did you think about whether or not he had a girl already? Absolutely. But just being able to have nice dinners and talk was pretty fucking harmless considering. 

If Namjoon finally decides to cave in and split you in two, maybe you’ll re-evaluate. But you hope that happens sooner rather than later because you are aching to feel anything he’d give you. 

That and the frustrating fact that he looks more and more attractive with every damn date.

Speaking of attractive things… 

One dingy, smoke-filled event on south side, just as you were cussing someone out for slapping your ass, it was Yoongi that shocked you by stepping in, quietly walking up before taunting the guy with frost on his tongue,

“You wanna try that again?”

“Fuck outta here, man. Just having some fun.”

When your surprise of a savior aims one slitted eye over his shoulder, he asks, “This true?”

And your arms fold in calm revenge. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” Turning back to your harasser, Yoongi simply eases, “I’ll let you off this time, but only cus she can hear me.”

A shiver propels up your spine.

“But if I see you touch her again, we’ll have some fun out back after the show.”

Safe to say, it didn’t matter if Yoongi saw the guy or not. 

Because he definitely saw you after the showcase, right before you tugged his stupidly hot tracksuit wearing ass into the nearest bathroom.

—

—

Ever since the first, all your dates with Namjoon have been innocent.

So it sends shivers across your arms when something slips from his lips and into your ears. Something so spiced that you think he can see your thighs squirm on the cheap vinyl booth you both occupy, 

“I gotta say… I didn’t expect us to talk this much.” 

Breath hitching, you slowly turn, fixated on the veins running down his arms while admiring the way neon lights make rainbows of his chains. Not giving much of your own thoughts away, you simply ask, 

“This time? Or at all?”

“Honestly?” His smile coats you in a layer of warmth. Which is strange considering how it makes you freeze over. “I don’t usually do dates.” 

What?

Immediately, you move away just to pin him with shock. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon tenses. “Oh, shit. Was that bad to say?” 

“No, I”—you laugh in pure relief—“Neither do I.” 

“No fuckin’ way,” he challenges with a grin, shaking his head when you nod multiple times. “Nah. You can’t tell me your fine ass has never gone out before.” 

“First of all,” you tut, smirking at his true nature coming through, “This ass has been taken out more times than yours.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Flipping your head, you give him a mocking once-over, feigning boredom even though you wanna mount those goddamn thighs. “I just don’t waste my time dating.” 

“Then why’d you keep coming,” he asks. 

To which you counter with a coy, “Why’d you keep asking?”

Namjoon’s smile grows and grows, and you’re enjoying where this is going an obscene, disrespectful amount. 

Instead of responding, he simply lifts an arm to skirt knuckles up the front of your dress, finally looping one under the necklace dangling from your neck. When he presses a bold thumb down, you cease breathing as he softly tugs forward, your entire body following without resistance. 

And right as your lips hover against his, he admits, 

“Cus if I asked you anything else, you would’ve ran.”

Oh, fuck. 

Butterflies spring inside your belly at his insinuation, and you can’t help but fall for his trap when you taunt, 

“Try me.” 

What the hell is Namjoon gonna say? Based on your earlier conversations, you could tell he has a way with words. You don’t have to spell a single thing out for him, that’s for damn sure. 

The smirk you get is pure sin before he moves to your ear, his mouth hidden from the rest of the bar and hot breath stroking your neck. Anticipation keeps your body fully alert, and yet it still doesn’t prepare you for whatever comes out of this dude’s mouth. 

“Like if you’d ever let me paint those tits.” 

The fuck.

“Or if you’d let me be the first to make you squirt.” 

The fuck?

Your exhale comes out stilted before stuttering out, and your chest physically heaves because—

“What, that’s all it takes to make you shy?” 

Holy shit, you haven’t felt this way in years. You can’t even think about a response as the hand on your necklace slides downward, a finger lowering your dress the tiniest bit before letting it spring back. 

“Come back to me, baby girl,” Namjoon snickers. “Or do you wanna—fuck.” 

Finally.

Your lips finally spread in triumph, manicured fingers splayed over the rising tent in his dark pants. Recovering hard and fast, you go on the offensive, 

“How about painting my face instead.” 

Namjoon’s exhale is a borderline groan. 

“And you wouldn’t be the first, but we can pretend.” 

Another rough hum expels, and you lean forward until you practically kiss his neck, giving his clothed bulge a squeeze before you finish with a lilt, 

“But you can be the first to finger fuck me in a bar.” 

“Fuck.” 

You’re in a booth in the back. And observing how sloshed everyone is tonight, you know that no one will notice. 

But the possibility that someone still can is what thrills you. And Namjoon, too, based on the way he twitches under your palm. 

Fucking hell, he’s huge. 

Truly, you’re fine if he drags you to the nearest bathroom and splits you in fourths. 

“Spread those pretty legs for me.” 

Ah, he’s down to put on a little show? You can very much settle for this, too. 

Because ever since forever, the point of no return is your favorite place is linger. 

When Namjoon slides a hand over your thigh, your eyelids lower to near closed, and you peer at his expression with the anticipation of a hunter, brow ticking at the confused look on his face. 

“You scared, baby?” 

“Far from it,” you purr, corner of your mouth lifting in hazy victory. Gloating before the battle even starts? Very much your style. “Impatient is more like it.” 

“Good,” he hums. “Kinda wanna make you beg.” 

“I dunno.” You outright grin before moving your hips forward a bit. The pads of his fingers are so close. “You might wanna drop the act and just touch me already.”

He seems to take that as your final warning, and slowly slides further down your warm thigh until he makes glorious contact with your slicked cunt. You don’t know exactly how wet you are but you definitely see Joon’s reaction. 

And his eyes blow darker than dark. “Oh, fuck.”

A gasp leaves your throat as you jolt, eyes fluttering at the way Namjoon swipes his fingertips over your sex. He knows what he’s doing and if you’re honest, you’re a bit jealous of all the ones that gave him that experience. 

“Putting this ass in nothing but sundresses,” he says against your neck. “Can’t believe I fell for the small talk.” 

A sigh escapes before you have a moment of clarity, and you bite your lip when he nips at your column. “I kinda liked the small talk.” 

A breathy laugh. “Me, too.” 

A swipe of his tongue makes you shudder, and you give him more access as you spread your thighs across cheap vinyl. The rest of the crowded bar is forgotten, large fingers sliding up your folds snagging every ounce of your attention. One stroke, two strokes, and a third that soaks your core as you struggle, 

“Maybe we can… Do more… Next time.” 

Chuckles rumble down your shoulder and, with a quick thought, you are positive that your tits are dangerously close to spilling out of your dress. 

But his voice drags across coals, cutting through you with lazy ease, 

“We can fuck next time, too.” 

When you hum, a sigh escapes again before you realize what he means. “Wait,” you pant, mind starting to blank as he’s getting you closer and closer to the edge. “What—”

Another finger joins the first, which effectively erases any thoughts or realizations you just came to. Instead, your brain turns to mush, and your head finds his muscled chest to rest. 

His laughs roll down your shoulder and settle between your breasts, 

“So fuckin’ tight.” 

Feels way too good. 

“Sucking me all the way in.”

You huff out, thoroughly wrecked and needing release so badly that you might alert the whole place when you reach it. “I’m so close—”

“Lemme feel you, mami.”

Oh, fuck.

The way that came out of his mouth was so smooth and rough at the right edges, and your mind blanks as you pulse wildly around long fingers. 

“Just like that,” Namjoon praises. “There you go.” 

Fuck, your body’s locking as you try so hard not to arch too far, hands finding anything to grab before seizing the table and his solid thigh.  

The waves keep coming and coming, clogging your ears so much that you can’t ever hear the rest of what Namjoon is saying. 

All you can feel is the rumble of his chest as he growls, heartbeat bumping into your shoulder blade. 

Finally, you start to come down from your high, the bass of the bar and melodies of music and conversations filling your ears. As you feel Namjoon smear your inner thighs with lingering slick, he offers a husky,

“Goddamn.”

Fucked out and ready for the rest of the night, you can only hum in agreement.

“Shit,” he grits, squeezing your knee. “Shame I gotta go soon.”

Wait. 

What.

You snap your head towards him. “Really?”

He just shrugs. “Telling you. Didn’t think we’d talk so long again.” 

“Huh?” Your brows furrow deep. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He just laughs, leaning in so much that you can physically feel his stupid smile against your neck. 

“Cus I’m in no rush,” he explains, kissing your skin while cupping you again what the fuck he did that just right. “Fuck, you might be addictive.” 

“Wait,” you halt his movements, chest heaving with want and disappointment. “Why’re you leaving again?”

“Trust me, if it was anything else, they could fuck off.” 

They?

Oh, fuck that. 

“Hold up.” You grip his forearm, hating how it feels so good in your hand. “You’ve been dipping for someone else?”

You will not be left high and dry for that. Even if Namjoon just gave you one of the hardest orgasms you’ve had in awhile. 

“What? No.” Your date immediately softens, looking you right in the eye. “If I didn’t have shit tonight—hey, look at me—If I didn’t have this tonight, I’d be taking you home.” 

You let your chin be held a little longer in his wet fingers that smell like you, moving away with a twinge of hurt. “So what’s up?”

“Chill, baby,” Namjoon softly orders. And for some reason, he does it in a way that actually quells you, when normally you would be even more upset. “I got a thing.”

Well that didn’t last long. 

Your repetition comes out flat. “A thing.”

“Uhh. I mean. A performance, maybe?”

What in the hell kind of… Is he just trying to get with someone else after copping a feel? Does he think you’re stupid? 

Maybe you should leave before he can peace out. How embarrassing. 

“You know what,” you start, grabbing your bag. “If you got someone else to get to then I’m out—”

“It’s not that, it’s.” He scratches the back of his neck with rapid strokes. “I dunno, it’s like. Weird to talk about? I guess?”

“What, are you a stripper or something?”

“A stripper?” Namjoon blows out amusement. “That’d be much easier money but no.”

You’re so confused. What other kind of performance would he be doing this late? “Then what the fuck are you trying so hard to hide?”

He laughs to himself, eyes finding the table and cheekbones rising high. Is he embarrassed? Or just lying? 

Red flags have never been so vibrant, and you’re only planning to wait three seconds before you—

“I rap.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He turns to you, fingers pointing to his stomach before palms plant at his sides. “I’m a rapper.”

You stare.

“A… Jesus, okay, I’m a battle rapper.”

He’s a…

Oh.

Thinking of the other ones you know, Namjoon’s either the shyest rap artist ever or absolute shit at selling himself. 

Well. Both can definitely correlate. 

But he was being super humble before, so maybe it’s just his personality? You’ve never seen him elsewhere outside of the gym, and his outfits haven’t given anything away.

So you very directly call his bluff,

“You’re a shit liar, Kim Namjoon.”

“I’m not lying!” he laughs through perfect teeth. “And I’d prove it to you, too, but. You’d be bored as hell.”

He’s being so ridiculous that you chuckle with furrowed brows, confused and so oddly endeared by this man. It’s enough to make you sit back down fully, shaking in disbelief.

“You’ve got be the worst rapper I’ve ever met.” When he kicks his head back, you keep laying into him, “How are you gonna campaign against yourself.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I swear...”

“You can take me to a bar but you won’t let me hear yours?”

“First of all,” he finally says, cheekbones still high, “That was fuckin’ good.”

“Why thank you.”

“Second. Smart ass,” he says as he quickly tugs you back against him so heavenly. “…Actually, you know what? Fuck it. You’re gonna come watch me next time.”

“What makes you think there’s a next time?”

Namjoon swoops in, breathing in your perfume while his hand squeezes your inner thigh. 

“Cus that’s when I get big money. And then I’m finally gonna fuck the shit outta you to celebrate.” 

“So what you’re saying is you have a type.”

Your pillow is swiftly thrown.

And Hobi catches it with a laugh, looking way too dashing in his outfit for you to be mad. Although.. his jacket would look a lot better with no tank underneath. 

“I don’t even know,” you groan. “But I’m just hoping this guy is good, too.”

“Ooh, what if he isn’t?” Hoseok walks to your full-length mirror, leaning forward to check and adjust his bangs. “Are you gonna let him down easy?” 

Already decided. You play with your sheets, silk dress hitching up your thighs as you adjust a leg onto your bed. “I would,” you admit. “Joon seems like a really nice guy… I think.” 

Your roommate promptly spins. “What do you mean.” 

Looking up, you watch his protective gaze with a rueful one. “I dunno. I think I’m just looking into things too much.” 

Walking over, Hoseok dips the bed beside you, touching a clothed thigh against your knee. When he tilts your chin up with a finger, he holds it there. “Listen to your gut, okay?” 

“Yeah, I will.” You roam your eyes down his outfit, salivating at the way his top fits on his waist and the beautiful cut of his pants. “Where are you going tonight, anyway? You look hot as fuck.” 

“You think so?” He moves his hand away to flick his jacket, slim fingers catching your eye and reminding you what they feel like in your— “The crew’s going to a new bar downtown, it’s jazz night.” 

“Jazz night? Sounds fun.” 

You know there’s no energy in your words. And you know Hobi catches on because his whole body turns empathetic.

“You want me to stay?” 

Pouting, you slowly nod, one thin strap of your dress falling down your slumped shoulder. “I do. But you don’t have to just because I’m being moody.” 

“Not moody,” he corrects, lying on his side and digging an elbow into pink sheets. “Just being real.” 

Smiling with no teeth, you cast gratefulness as he holds your knee, “I’m always real with you.” 

“I know.” Rubbing your lotioned skin, Hoseok’s eyes suddenly shroud over, dark tendrils falling over his forehead. “Can I be real with you, too?” 

“Always.” 

“I kinda wanna have you in that nightgown.” 

Laughing, you take in his slow grin as you slowly cover him with your body, relishing in the scent of his dashing cologne and brushed teeth. He’s already hard beneath your core, and you stare down as his gaze zips straight to your sloped dress over your chest, 

“If you buy me a drink at that bar, you have a deal.” 

Suddenly gripping your ass, your roommate’s words come before a spank, “Baby, we aren’t going anywhere after we’re done.” 

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Good.” He squeezes your ass before smacking it again. “I already decided as soon as you gave me that pout.” 

What? Did he really? 

Confusion leaves you in blinks before you let Hoseok change your positions, your back nestling into your sheets and your skin feeling the cold, rough material of his leather. Overtaken by fresh, musky scent again, you breathe him in with a satisfied hum as he descends on your neck. 

“You can’t give me this power,” you groan as he kisses your column. When your hands slide over his cut torso, you somehow find the words to continue, “I’ll use it too much.”

“You have”—he deepens the next smooch to your throat, shoving you to the side and releasing butterflies across your chest—“A lot more power than you realize.”

The scratchy way those words leave his mouth make you dizzy. So, so dizzy, for so many reasons, and you don’t know if you want to sort them out later or much much later. 

But it all flings out of your system because Hoseok thrusts forward and you forget every single thought, gritting your teeth in a moan and straining your neck back. 

“My roomie’s so sensitive,” he chuckles, low and gravelly and everything you need. “I love it.”

“And my roomie’s decisive,” you finally tease back, settling back into this safe territory you both established. That got scary for a sec. “And I love it even more.”

When Hobi pushes up for a kiss, you welcome his expert mouth, trying to remember when you both did this last and wondering why you don’t do it more often. 

And promptly ignoring the little fire starting to kindle in your chest. 

—

—

The days keep drifting by like clouds. 

And that’s kinda how you feel, slowly but serenely going through your daily routines, making moves, and reaffirming your ever increasing confidence in every aspect of your life.

You even hit some big milestones for your personal goals, which gives you another layer of sheen that Hoseok cannot stay away from—which you don’t ever pass up because he’s creating his own path in the music and dance world, too.

The dates with Namjoon have stalled, but you aren’t phased. Now that you know what he’s really about, you can give him time—if he’s telling the truth. 

But you’ve already decided to give him the benefit of many doubts, and just let him down and move on if he’s playing around. You have plenty more things in life going for you, what’s one liar gonna do? 

Well. That line of thinking would usually work if it was concerning most. 

But the fact that Namjoon makes you shy just thinking about him is different and stupid and god you need to get back to work!

Kim Namjoon. Rapper extraordinaire. 

…Allegedly. 

You burst into a fit of laughter before going back to typing on your laptop.

—

—

One night, you offhandedly ask Yoongi why he’s never taken you back to his place.

But he’s eating you out so fucking good you don’t care that he never replies.

He probably doesn’t invite anyone over. Seems way too private for that, which you can understand, too. You don’t want any of the people here knowing where you live since you frequent so often. 

His sloppy licks and sucks make your head swim with lust as you grip the sink behind your back for dear life, and when he digs those fingers into your ass, you’re a goner. 

“Taste so.. fuck,” Yoongi growls, yanking you closer and causing your hands to slip. The sound of warning you make goes completely ignored. “Can’t believe you almost left before my rounds.”

“I told you,” you huff out, eyes closing shut and one hand traveling to his hair. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Not right now you don’t.” The grit in his voice is shudder-inducing, releasing all sorts of butterflies in your stomach. “You’re staying right here on my face.”

Fuck.

Wait. A second. 

Is Yoongi being… Possessive?

Your tug on his hair pulls a groan from his depths, “Fuck, just like that.” 

“Oh?” Your dark laugh precedes the way you yank him away from your cunt, eyes blown out watching his own turn into slits while his mouth curves upward. “Is that how it is?”

Without moving a muscle, Yoongi shines teeth. “That’s exactly how it is, doll.” 

Fuck. “Then get back to it,” you command, heart fluttering when he chuckles against your folds. “I want everyone to know how I taste.” 

“They already know,” he assures. “But I can remind them again.”

You moan. “That’s so fucking hot.” 

Yoongi spreads your legs further before his voice smokes, “And you taste fucking insane.”

Cackling, you melt at his newfound energy as he feasts again, thrusting yourself onto his tongue and marveling at how good he treats your cunt.

But a question comes into your mind as your head lolls to the side, words gasping out between his tongue swirls and laps, “Hey.. have you.. heard this guy.. named Randa? Apparently.. he’s.. taking over the west side.”

Abruptly, Yoongi stops, pinning you with a glistening scowl. “Fuck that guy.” 

Oh.

“And when we’re fucking? I don’t wanna hear you say anyone else’s name but mine.”

Oh.

The most devious smirk cuts through your face as your chest beats loud loud loud and fast. “And if I don’t give a shit what you want?”

Yoongi shoots up so quick you only get half a laugh in, your chin gripped between slick fingers and your cunt pulsing on feral instinct. His breath fans your squished features before he lets out a huff of amusement—or is that pride?

“Knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

And his lips claim you so hard and strong that you taste yourself at the back of your throat. 

—

—

Today’s the day. 

After your date with Namjoon, you get to see whatever the hell he’s been doing, ready to tease him to hell and back or be pleasantly surprised. 

You hope it's the latter, but based on the way he’s been so quiet about things, you aren’t quite sure what to believe. 

But the light dinner at a west side dive is nice. When you question why he isn’t exactly eating, Namjoon only puffs out a tiny laugh, 

“Too nervous.”

“About your battle?”

He gives you a look of shock before reeling it back in. “Uhh, not exactly.”

“Then what’s wrong, babe?” You ask, blinking right when Joon does at your sudden nickname drop. Hopefully you aren’t as obviously thrown off as he is. 

“It’s just…” He looks down at the smooth lacquer of the bar before admitting, “You’re gonna be there.” 

Your laugh comes out so full. Because this man is unbelievably adorable. “Why is that bad!” 

“Because!” Namjoon flashes a damn good smile when it takes up his whole face. God, you like it way too much. “I dunno if you’re gonna have a good time or not.”

Wait. He’s worried that you won’t… enjoy yourself? This isn’t about his performance at all? 

Who the fuck is this guy? 

“Wanna know a little secret?” You wait until he gives you his full attention. Which is in milliseconds and makes you swoon. “I’ll have a good time with you anywhere.” 

Oh, those eyes… 

You actually look away. Because you’ll get lost in them if you don’t. 

When Namjoon leans on his palm, his gaze lowers to your lips, igniting a part of you that’s been begging to be set free. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you assure, taking a sip of your fruity drink and loving how your date didn’t judge you at all for it. “Unless you ditch me. Again.” 

“Hey, I’d never do that. You’ll always know when I’m leaving.” 

“I’m just saying…” you trail off, obeying when he brings your arm closer and the rest of you with it to stand at his knees. You say the rest to his dimples as he looks at you and nothing else, “I want you to myself after your thing.”

When the hell did you and Yoongi get this possessive? 

“You will, baby girl,” Namjoon soothes, sliding a hand up your lotioned, perfume-tapped neck. “Just like I told you.” 

“Good.” Mesmerized, you stare right at his smooth lips, licking yours before you can catch yourself. And the air around your bare shoulders turns electric, sparking at his lidded gaze and fizzing at the way his chest rises and falls. “You also said you’d win the whole thing.” 

This feeling… Is he gonna kiss you? Are you gonna kiss him? 

But Namjoon just smiles, wider and wider and coaxing the devil to come compete with his fever. 

“I will,” he claims with zero hesitation. Clutching your waist, he slides a bill over the bar before leaning forward and breathing you in, slowly vacating his stool and guiding you towards the exit. The way his palm lightly tightens around your dress sends shivers, but his words make them worse tenfold,  

“But having you with me is priceless.”

—

—

You get there and laugh because you’ve been to plenty of these rap battle events, but you play along. 

And from what you see on the haphazardly pinned posters,  Randa’s on the roster, too. 

Fuck. On one hand, you finally get to hear the legend for yourself. But on hands two three and four, Namjoon’s gonna have to go extra hard if he’s gonna win it all. He’ll have to go up against Randa eventually, right?

“So you’re telling me… You’re familiar with all this?”

You flash a smile, finally getting to talk about your wealth of knowledge, “Yeah! Gloss is who I usually follow but—”

“Gloss?” Joon’s nose immediately scrunches. “Weak.”

“Oh? Not feeling the king of south side, huh.”

“Tch.” Ah, he seems really annoyed. Whoops. “He’s alright.”

“Just kiss him already,” you tease through a smile. 

“I’d much rather kiss you.” Namjoon suddenly presses you into the hallway wall and yes yes yes this is what you’ve been wanting—dreaming of, for weeks. You’ve played along with the nice guy routine for long enough. This man wants you and it’s aggravating how patient he really is. 

But finally. Finally, Joon’s gonna give in and you’re gonna feel those perfect lips sliding on yours... 

“But not yet.”

Motherfucker! “Boooo.”

He laughs, guiding your waist back to the center of the dark hallway. Sauve and collected, he croons, “We have all night when I’m done, baby.” 

“You sound so confident,” you observe as you stare down someone eyeing your cleavage. “You that sure?”

“You have no one but yourself in the end,” Namjoon airily responds. As if he didn’t just drop philosophy on your shoulders, he slips an arm around them instead before whispering in your ear, “You wanna stay with me or in the crowd?” 

“Oh, uhh..” You get a choice? You wanna see him in his shining glory, but this is new territory. There are maybe one or two people here you recognize from south side but that’s it. “I dunno, actually. Crowd’s fine?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good. But sorry if I end up decking anyone.”

Namjoon fully laughs. “I’d fucking love to see that. But honestly, I’d probably get there first.” 

“I just wanna see you,” you request, hoping to everything above that Namjoon at least has some spunk. “Can you get me into the front?”

“Whatever you want.” 

Unable to keep in your patience, you reach and give your date and alleged rap monster a quick peck on the cheek. “You got it,” you encourage in a tone only he can hear, and you hope to all the heavens that gives him enough confidence to win as much as he can. 

When you walk away to the door leading to the audience area, you look over your shoulder, giggling when Namjoon hasn’t moved and stays touching lingering lipgloss on his cheek. 

—

—

The showcases on west side are so different from south, and yet, carry that familiarity present in these close communities. Shouts of encouragement, finishing lines when they’re meant to be caught on, and the loud yells when it’s a hit bar—all of these are present in every underground battle. 

You take your position in the front row without too many issues, and you manage to stand next to a guy that you’re outright jealous of for being more attractive than you. How does that work? How are you feeling so hot because of attraction and jealousy? 

“New here?” He asks, mouth tilting up and a pretty brow cocking. 

“Yeah, I’m here to see my…” What do you say? What is Namjoon to you other than your date? You aren’t really friends yet, are you? “My date.” 

“Cute,” the man chuckles, blond bangs bobbing with his every move. “Jimin.” 

Instead of giving him your name, you respectfully respond, “Nice to meet you.” 

Damn. He’s good. Even smiling with just his eyes, the man caught your game and pushes on, “Mm. And which one is your date? We can cheer for them together.” 

You know Jimin is being nice. But you’re so thrown by the fact that you don’t even know Namjoon’s stage name that your face must look horrified. 

Backtracking immediately, the man holds his hands up, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you. Don’t worry about—”

The crowd quickly shifts and shuffles, and you get bumped and are about to have some choice words when Jimin immediately throws out an arm behind your back, 

“Watch it!” He orders over his shoulder, tone flipping from soft to hard quick. “You guys know the rules. Shove and you’re out.” 

“Sorry, Chim! Everyone’s crowding in last minute, they know the matchup.” 

Fully turning around, you notice with wide eyes that the crowd has more than doubled. If you didn’t shimmy your way to the front already, it would’ve been impossible. 

Who are they coming to see? 

“Alright, alright, alright! Let’s bring our next head to head on the main stage.” 

The MC’s voice cracks over the mic, and you face forward again, wondering when you’d be able to see Namjoon and if he’s prepping his lines backstage. You bet he’s so cute checking his notes and going over everything—Wait. Namjoon’s walking on now.

And the crowd bellows. 

You outright flinch, not expecting the atmosphere to turn so raucous so fast. Are they screaming for him? Or his other opponent coming out with swagger and a hand raise to the crowd? Either way, everyone came to watch this matchup and Joon’s gotta have pulled a good amount. Wow. 

“This is the one y’all all came to see. Over here, we got my man JC!”

Shouts and whooops cheer for the guy, and you admit his quick smile is very disarming before he dips back into a calm facade. 

“And we all know who this is—” Holy shit, everyone’s cheering before he even finishes! “The one. The only. Randaaa!” 

It’s gotta be a fact that you’re the only one not cheering, other than JC’s posse behind him and his devout followers in the audience. Beside you, Jimin is cupping his mouth and throwing his head back in a yell. Behind you, the hollering is at an all time peak. 

But the reason you can’t find a voice is pure shock and awe alone. 

The guy you’ve been seeing. The guy so warm and humble you thought he was lying when he said he’s a rapper.

Namjoon slips on blacked out shades.

…Is Randa?

Why the hell didn’t he just lead with that?

“Okay, boys, you know the drill,” the MC continues, microphone projecting through the crowd. Showing a thick coin, he asks, “What y’all got.”

“Heads.”

“Tails,” Namjoon calls, and when he wins the toss he still keeps his eyes on the ground when offering, “Go ahead, sir.”

The crowd cheers while JC visibly shifts, and the announcer blares through the mic, 

“As expected from Randa! Let’s get it started.”

The next moments have your brain short-circuiting, rewiring, overheating overheating overheating. 

Namjoon is good. 

In fact, he’s a phenom. No wonder he’s taking over this side. You’ll be shocked if the other dude lasts two more showcases.

And you’re so turned on that you don’t even care if he wins a single thing. You want him and you want him to take you home now. 

—

—

The rideshare you both take lasts awhile, but you don’t notice where you’re going until the last few turns because you’ve been gushing over an embarrassed Kim Namjoon the whole time. 

“Holy shit, you were so—so—I don’t even know!” 

“Haha, thanks.” 

“I’m serious, how have I not seen you? How have you not gone worldwide? Are you and I just don’t know it yet?” 

“Nah, I haven’t. Yet.” 

“Exactly. No, you are ready—more than ready. Holy fuck, Joon, that was…” Feeling your cheeks so hot and heated, you let out a light bit of laughs while you shake out your hands. “I’m getting hot just thinking about it again.” 

He laughs beside you, pulling you into his strong yet giving side just a bit more. “Stop,” he elongates, “You’re gonna hype me up too much.” 

“And you would deserve it, hello?” 

Namjoon chuckles again, squeezing your shoulders and planting a kiss on your head. 

Butterflies. Birds. Wings of all types flitter about your chest, and you lock eyes with a man you have been completely surprised by all night. And you would lean in and kiss him with all your might, not giving a shit about the driver or the fizzy pop song on the speakers. 

If you didn’t happen to look out the window and notice you’re pulling into a gated complex on east side. 

Where you live.

And not just where you live, but where you live. 

Immediately, your heart drops into your ass seeing the front entrance. The lit center fountain that Hobi had to fish a drunk you out of comes into view, and you’re about to jump out the car before Namjoon softly speaks up, 

“Left gates, I got ‘em.”

Oh. You enter on the right side.

Wait, so… Wait. Namjoon didn’t figure out where you live, he happens to live here, too? 

Your head spins. Sure, you see each other at the same gym, but for him to be this close to you and you had no idea… 

This shakes things up, for sure. In a positive way or a scary one, you aren’t dead set on either just yet. 

But after the humble rapper gets out to open the car door for you, you’re more set on latching onto his stunning scent and fiery eyes anyway. The rest of your worries and the scary proximity to your own place can wait. 

—

—

“Nice place,” you muse, secretly looking around the spacious second floor apartment as if you don’t have this exact layout in your building, too. “Area’s a little quiet for a rapper, though, I’d imagine.”

“Gotta stay lowkey,” Namjoon says with a shrug. “And there’s a recording studio not far from here, so. I’ve been going over there sometimes, too.”

“Wait, really?” This is an intriguing development. He does see his own skyrocketing potential then. “You working on a mixtape?” 

As he sets his key down on a long kitchen bar, he responds while you both hear distinct sounds coming from the long hall in front of you. “Something like that.” 

Very, very distinct sounds. 

Instead of being bothered, you’re actually even more turned on. So when Joon assesses your face, you simply grin before he ropes you into his side, both of you laughing and making your way down the hallway. 

When you get closer, the feminine moans get louder and louder, and you realize that the upcoming door on your side is open. 

And through the entrance, you can clearly see a bed lining the side wall longways, a clothed body and mop of hair you know all too well kneeling on the other side. 

Face down in between the legs of someone you don’t know at all. 

“Dude!” 

Oh, shit. 

When Yoongi comes up for air, his eyes shift fast in recognition, but you can only look slack-jawed at his dripping chin while Namjoon kicks at the door with a chortle, “Damn, Yoong, manners!” 

He’s giving that woman heaven and hell. 

Good for her. 

Your stomach does something silly.

But before Namjoon can close the door completely, you hastily hold a thumbs up and smirk of approval to shade the feeling—just to catch Yoongi looking back with an incredibly peculiar look on his face as you get led away. 

Huh. 

What was that all about?

Never mind. You aren’t here with him. Is he here because of the girl? Or did he bring her home and this is his place? Fuck, that second one stupidly hurts, true or not.

“You guys know each other?” You ask as you’re brought into Namjoon’s room, eyes taking in everything and drinking in the sight of his wide bed. 

“Uhh.. Yeah.”

Wait. So if Namjoon is Randa, and Yoongi is Gloss… Gears click into place in your brain and you gasp. “The fuck? Y’all act like you hate each other.”

“All part of the game.”

“The… What…”

Shit, you can’t concentrate. Those chick’s moans are starting up again and while they sound divine, you start to feel a little sting with each one. And you know why. It’s petty and stupid but true. 

Yoongi’s never taken you home. Not once in all the times you’ve been with each other has he even mentioned it as a joke. 

But you rationalize as if it will make you feel better. Maybe those two have known each other? Maybe she’s the roommate?

Whatever. Namjoon is the one you’re gonna fuck and get fucked by tonight anyway. And it’s been a long time coming. You haven’t even ki—

“Can I kiss you.”

Stilling, you finally focus and see your date standing in the middle of his room. And you look straight at his eyes before sliding down to his mouth, watching him swallow in nervousness or anticipation and liking either option. 

Namjoon looks fantastic. Shoulders covered by his thick jacket and hair spiking out just right. His eyes hold so much promise and emotion that you lose yourself in them before you can even speak. 

Yes. Forget whatever the hell you just saw. This is exactly where you wanna be and you’re gonna have the best time of your fucking life.

You know Joon wants you. You know he can conquer every inch of you. But yet, he’s giving you the reins and even asked for a kiss? 

Marching right up, you tug him down and mold yourself flush, breath fanning his perfect nose and voice low, “You can do a lot more than that.” 

“I plan to.”

“Fucking do it then.”

And everything bursts into flame as he surges forward to claim your lips. 

Fuck, he can kiss the shit out of you, mouth hot and stealing your every breath as your clothes are both being torn at and discarded at alarming rates. Your heels are shoved off by your fingers before Namjoon yanks you up for another round, and your whole dress is tugged down so fast it sports a rip. 

You’re about to yell at him before you’re spun and led backwards until your legs hit the bed. Fuck it he can get you a new one this is everything you’ve been waiting for and more, your head spinning as soon as his tongue brushes against yours. 

Gravity shifts as you’re thrown down, and you chuckle in delight as he raspily asks, 

“You know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Blissed out, it takes you a moment to respond with one cracked, “Hmm?” 

“All those nights I pictured you. Right here.”

Fuck, the head of Namjoon’s bed is right up against the same wall the other bed is. Without even straining your ears, you can hear them through the plaster and wood. “Doing what?” 

“Whatever the fuck you want.”

“Oh, really?” You grin as Namjoon smothers you with his weight, mouth latching onto your neck with a ferocity only his rhyme schemes match. “What do you think I want?”

“I think,” he rasps, “You wanna slut it out.”

Fuck. “I really fucking do.”

“Then be my guest, baby girl.”

Finally.

You mewl as he rolls his hardness right into your center, and you hear more whines through the wall. And her sounds start sounding a little fuller, like she’s getting pleasured much rougher, just how you know she likes it even though she’s a total stranger. 

Because it’s how you always, always want it from Yoongi.

“You sure you’re ready for me, Joonie?” You ask in his ear, breath caught as he grips your hip with strong fingers. 

“No,” he admits, which is fucking attractive and he probably doesn’t even know it. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

You laugh, but there’s another set of sounds you hear through the wall now. 

…Yoongi? 

Fuck, he sounds… Those moans are turning you on so fast you’re already soaked through. Goddamn, he sounds fucking sinful, and much louder than you’ve ever heard him. 

“So fucking loud,” Namjoon grunts into your neck in annoyance. “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t mind.” You slip your hands around his back. “We’re gonna be just as annoying.” 

“Yeah?” 

Is it because he’s in a bedroom this time? Not a random broom closet or a dingy bathroom? This girl probably isn’t fast like you. She’s probably a good one, especially being able to make him sound like that. 

Whatever the fuck either of them are, they aren’t quiet. And you want them to hear whatever the hell’s about to go down in here, too, if they’re gonna advertise this hard.

“You’ve never heard me,” you purr, realizing that Yoongi hasn’t really heard you for real, either. “I bet just my sounds would make you come.” 

Oh, Namjoon’s groans are delightful. 

Good god. You wonder how hard Yoongi’s pounding into her for her to sound like that. And you wonder how this beautiful, stunning man in front of you will end up making you sound. 

“I wanna hear you, too,” you demand as you arch your body against his, raking your nails across his broad shoulders. “Got it?”

His smile is so fucking deadly. And you can already tell he knows his way in bed, and your legs are itching with excitement. “Told you. Whatever you want, beautiful.”

“Fuck me then, baby,” you grit out, clutching his biceps so hard he hisses. “Exactly how you’ve been waiting to.” 

And this man launches you into the skies, shoving his clothed length into your underwear before ordering you to stay still. When you do, he gets up, pulling down his bottoms and letting his cock spring free as he reaches for a nearby drawer. 

Holy motherfucking shit. 

Even while having the time it takes for him to slip a condom on, you don’t have time to react before he smothers you again, mouth going straight for your chest and kissing all over before you even get your bra undone. It’s promptly flung over his shoulder as your nipples get thoroughly sucked, a large palm closing over your other breast and causing you to lose it, 

“Joon.” 

“That’s my girl,” he coaxes, lapping at your tits and sliding his arms underneath to grip the back of your neck. You imagine it’s so fucking easy to handle you, like he doesn’t even know how much you even weigh as he holds you with no issues. “Let go for me.”

Fuck, you’re already close. You’re so so so close and he hasn’t even— “Fuck!” 

“So wet for me,” Namjoon rumbles out with pride. “You can probably take most of me just like this.” 

That is a challenge and a lie and a dick you’re willing to die on. 

Sucking in a breath, you puff out a flimsy bout of arrogance, “I can take all of you.” 

“Convince me then.” He flips you over so you’re suddenly straddling him. “Get up and prove me wrong.” 

Giving you control already? He’s chivalrous. 

Cocking a brow, you push yourself up before lifting your ass, deftly grabbing his throbbing cock and groaning with him. You don’t know how the fuck you’re gonna take him, but you sure as hell don’t ever back down and you aren’t starting tonight. 

As soon as you sink onto his tip, Namjoon’s already grunting and pulling at his sheets. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” 

“So big, what the fuck,” you whoosh out, breathing through your nose and actually kinda wanting the moans from the other room back. They seem to have stopped all of a sudden wait no they’re back. Yes, your pussy needs this. You start to slide a little lower. “Joonie..” 

“Shit.” 

Rocking, you place both hands on his smooth, sturdy chest, sighing and mewling as he talks you all the way through it with the voice of an angel. Or a demon? Is it possible for someone to be both? 

You keep throwing your ass back, swirling around him, moaning louder and louder with each deeper and deeper thrust you get through. Your dulcet tones lift to the ceiling and fill the room, mixing with Namjoon’s pretty groans and creating a beautiful, luscious symphony. 

The way his hands roam over you make you feel alive, and as he pinches your nipples, you yelp and laugh at his obvious lack of control. This man is downright puddy between your legs, his voice hitching when you keep praising him. 

“I wish you’d fuck me, too, Joonie,” you whine, “I wanna watch you, too—”

The whole earth flips upside down as your breath leaves you in a rush, your body plunged into soft sheets as Namjoon ends up on top. You don’t even register him bending down to speak in your ear, the drag of his chain on your chest lighting your inner spark, 

“What did I say I’d do?” 

Fuck. 

“Tell me what I said, baby girl.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Mouth suddenly dry and unusable, you flounder for the right words, a light smack to the side of your ass making you mewl instead. 

“Use your words.” 

“You’re gonna…” You swallow, not used to being on this end of the control spectrum. But Namjoon’s commanding presence is so powerful you’re relishing in the newness. “Fuck the shit outta me.” 

“That’s right.” He smacks you again. “Now turn around and lift that pretty ass for me.” 

Your core pulses hard, ready for the wrecking of its life as you moan and do just as he asked. When you get tugged back, you whine again, hands clutching loose sheets and mind preparing for euphoria. 

“You’re so perfect,” Namjoon praises from behind, smoothing hands over your skin and clutching the soft area between your pelvis and waist. “God, I’ve been keeping myself away for far too long.” 

What? What does that mean? 

“Relax for me, baby.” When you do, he starts to slip inside, and the initial inch is already making you cry out in pleasure. “Holy fuck, you’re…Fuck—”

“Baby—”

As soon as he thrusts forward another inch, you’re already coming undone, shocking both of you and making Namjoon grip you so hard you know it’s gonna leave lasting pain. But you welcome it, wave upon wave overcoming your vision and washing you onto glistening shores. 

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until he smacks your ass holy shit are you slamming yourself onto him? How are you able to move? What are you even screaming because your ears are so clogged you can’t even think or hear straight. 

“Shit—”

Your head makes contact with the headboard, wood banging the wall and your cries of lust heating it in puffs. The muscles in your neck strain so hard you think they’ll snap with each hard thrust Namjoon’s now giving, and with a fleeting thought, you wonder when the girl’s moans on the other side of the wall stopped. You don’t hear her anymore but you hear—

A rough tug of your head makes you laugh, and Namjoon’s chuckle reminds you of the smoothest chocolate, so delicious you can taste it on your tongue. “You like that, huh?” 

You can only whine out a yes. 

“You gonna come again for me?” 

“Yes, baby.” 

“Lemme feel you then,” he grunts as he flips you around, shoving back into your cunt. “Make me come in this pussy.” 

And you do. You do, you do, you do. Your release and the two that come after are so potent that Namjoon roars with his own orgasm, shaking on top of you and holding you so close you can feel just how hot he’s running. Sweat covers the sheets around you both as he grips your back, and you don’t know anything ever other than this feeling of utmost shine. 

Before you know it, you’re both cleaned up as you lie a puddle of jelly, and Namjoon slides into his sheets before tugging them over your buzzing limbs. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “You weren’t fucking kidding.” 

He simply laughs, and you want to nestle in that dimple. “Told you,” he whispers, so spent and falling fast into slumber. “You really are gonna be the death of me.” 

He’s gonna be the death of you, too. 

Exactly like someone else has been. 

Someone that was just on the other side of the wall. 

—

—

You should leave. 

As a principle, you don’t ever stay. 

But this time, you kinda want to, because Namjoon deserves more time for all the good he’s given you. 

…Maybe you will if he mercifully blesses you with another time. 

Slowly getting out from under his arm, you give him a kiss on the cheek before gathering your things. Slipping into a slightly ripped dress and painstakingly seeking out your heels in the dark, you finally find them both and loop them over a couple fingers. 

You feel horrible. 

But you never, ever stay. 

Besides, he'd politely offer to take you home. And you do not want him to know that means walking a few minutes instead of a far drive.

Closing his door with a muted click, you pad your way down the hall, noticing with relief that the other bedroom door is also closed. 

You’re out the hallway and into the living room, walking alongside the dimly lit kitchen and almost to the door. It’s chilly, but you can wait outside as you ring up Hobi that you’ll be home soon. It’s not a far walk anyway, since you’re just on the other side of the complex. Honestly, this arrangement is so close. Are you ever gonna tell Namjoon or…

A faint, distinct rip interrupts your thoughts. 

Immediately, all hair raises on the back of your neck, and you sense him before you even fully turn. It’s unmistakable. No one else can give you this feeling.

You’re unfortunately, very correct.  

Clad in only a simple tank and sweatpants, Yoongi lazily leans on the back kitchen counter, hair framing his face and eyes downward as he’s busy peeling a small, vibrant clementine. 

When you don’t speak, he slowly lifts his gaze. And his dark rasp shakes you straight down to your bare, curling toes, 

“You have fun?” 

—

—

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D | feedback box

a/n: AHAHA oh god how do we feel, y'all........ i am quite out of words after this one but. well. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated. hope you're ready for pt. 3 :)))

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! jc was one of the first ones i ever watched, and he has great diction and has a great inflection along with fun bars. anybody i namedrop will have rap battles linked, so here is one of JC's that i remember from back in the day versus chilla jones and it's just a fun time. battle rap is an art form in itself, and i would like to showcase these talented individuals whenever i can.

nsfw warnings: many, many much teasing lol, choking, shower sex, sneaky sex, back shotttttsss, the chains stay on, the hat stays on fuck!!, hair tugging, oral (m/f rec), quickie bc they aren't alone!!, breast play, so much kissing my god, aftercare is cute, reader is cute, yoongi is cute, these are supposed to be nsfw warnings but oh well

“You got everything?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond from the hall, checking your bag and making sure you packed right. And all your stuff’s in place but wait something’s missing. What’s missing? 

Oh, shit. Your sunscreen. 

Heading back into your room, you snatch the bottle from your desk before checking yourself in the nearby mirror, loving how your perfume is staying on for once and kinda liking how this new sundress compliments your every curve. Getting it online of all places? Reia deserves all your love for the find. 

You note to thank her as you head back out into the hallway, walking and checking your phone before turning into the kitchen for your water bottle. 

But as soon as you round the corner, your whole body whips into another, and all you feel is a sturdy let pliant build before cologne and hands grip your arms. 

“Hey, watch—”

“Shit, my bad—”

Wait. What the fuck.  

What the fuck? 

You expected your brother to be the one you bumped into, since it was only the two of you in the house. When the hell did Yoongi come in and why the fuck does he look like this? 

The tee showing off his pecs is enough. The long shorts should be more than enough. 

But the hat. On his head. Is backwards. 

The sight alone careens you back to the good old days. Summers your brother dragged you along to hang with all his friends, hooping on random courts or strolling down trodden sidewalks. Almost all of them at some point had ballcaps or snapbacks that loosely sat on boyish heads—even Taehyung and Jimin with theirs hilariously swinging sideways. 

But this boy is very much a man now. 

And his cap is sitting dangerously fitted on his handsome, attractive as hell hair. 

This is what he chose to wear today of all days? The day you all head down to the beach? Goddamn, you aren’t gonna survive the trip.

Your mind is attempting to find words. Your body is screaming to launch onto him and devour. But your brain cannot get anything to cooperate so all you get out is a measly, pathetic, “You’re good.” 

Oh, god. Yoongi’s mouth is curving up and tilting your entire universe off the edge say something else say anything else. Literally anything else! “I mean, I’m good? We’re good? …Good..?” 

A single puff of laughter isn’t supposed to make your soul moan and three simple words are absolutely not supposed to make your thighs squeeze. 

“You’re good, doll.” 

And yet you fucking do all of that anyway. Fuck! 

Gripping your bag and trying to calm your racing heart, you clear your throat before attempting to look around him. “I need to.. Uhh. Grab my thing.” 

Based on the blatant way he checks you out, Yoongi wants to say something. Or more devastating of a thought, he wants to do something. 

But a shout from the foyer beyond the kitchen smashes any tension coming to a head, and you both freeze,

“Yoong, you got the drinks?” 

Devious, your lethal, backwards hat wearing secret calls out while not tearing his gaze from yours, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Well, fuck if you aren't about to do the same in just a second.

But your head pops out of the gutter as Yoongi steps aside, angling himself so you can walk through the passageway and onto tiled floor. Whispering, he puts a bold hand on the lowest curve of your back, 

“Not playing nice today, huh.” 

What. What did he just…? What does he mean?

You pin him with confusion, weeping inside when he throws you a wink and oh fuck did he just squeeze your ass? 

You are gonna fight this guy. 

After the tiniest squeal you can muster, you call out to your brother while swatting Yoongi’s hand away—ignoring his cheeky little laugh, “Everyone should be here soon, yeah?” 

Both your sibling and Jimin walk to the front room as he answers, “Just about. You still okay driving?” 

Jimin’s here, too? Did you just not hear anything as soon as you saw Yoongi? “Oh, Dom said she’d drive my car. She doesn’t trust anyone else to do long stretches.” 

Which, frankly, you’re totally fine with. Dom’s an excellent driver anyways.

“Okay, so we’ll all head to the beach house but we’ll meet you guys after playing.”

“On the pink outdoor courts?”

The question comes out because you’re genuinely curious. Not because you wanna sneak a peek at this man playing while looking like that, of course. Having him present and not doing a single thing is already bad enough because why the fuck did he wear his hat like that today?

Get it together. 

“Nah, we’re playing baseball today. Why, you gonna play in that dress?” 

Jimin starts to say something as Yoongi opens the fridge behind you, and you wonder if he was sent to get the soju stocked in there before you crashed into him. “I wouldn’t bet against her.” 

“See? He’s smart. I have one hell of an arm,” you chirp, taking a sip of your water and watching Yoongi set some green bottles on your island. It seems you were right on the money. “Nah, I was just wondering if you were gonna join us after. We’ll need to find more chairs and umbrellas if you do.”

“Yeah, we planned to,” your brother responds, “But don’t wait up if we take too long. We might play for awhile.” 

“K.” Turning to Yoongi, you keep talking, because you’re excited to give info and even more hyped that he’s coming on this trip. “You know there’s a pool with a lazy river there, too?” 

“Oh, yeah?”

You admit your nod is a bit goofy, but damn if you can’t help looking at that smile. It’s a wonder you remember to swing back to the other guys in the kitchen when your older sibling laughs in realization,

“Oh, is this the place you kept watching videos about?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s just the beach!”

“Umm, when have we gone to a whole beach resort? And it’s huge!”

You’re doing the thing again. The animated hands, the little bounces, anything that your body can do to expel extra energy. 

And the only way you noticed is the fact that all three of them are either smiling or shaking their heads in familiar laughter.

“Alright, let’s go before they tell us the volume of the pool in liters,” your brother teases, pulling a light laugh and a low chuckle. 

“I know what it is, too, I calculated—”

Bigger laughter cuts you off before you let out your own, and the front door opens with three girls before the guys head out. 

“Road trip time!”

“I’m so ready to read on the beach.”

“Y’all better use the bathroom before we go. I’m making the least amount of stops so we get there asap.”

Thank everything with higher powers that your friends are now here. You could only take so many sips from your water bottle to avoid looking at the demon in your kitchen.

For your sanity, you hope the drive seems short and the guys play long. Seeing Yoongi out with his friends and being himself? Laughing at all their antics while drenched in water and sunshine? You wouldn’t be able to handle the heat so early in the trip.

Or deal with the summer heartache longer than necessary. 

—

—

Positioned in the passenger seat, you lead the little musical happening in your car as you head straight for the beach house hours away. 

A lot of the drive has consisted of songs, laughter, and scheming for when you all make it there. But now it’s settled into a comfortable silence, with more mellow tunes filling your car and everyone resting or on their phones.

And the timing couldn’t have been better, because this is the exact moment someone decides to text you. Someone you’ve been thinking about this whole goddamn ride. 

Yoongi [9:28am]: What was the volume in liters?

Your heart expels a solar flare. 

Of all the things Yoongi decided to text, this is what he goes with? Honestly, this is the cutest and somehow hottest way it could have gone. 

And the most thoughtful. Because you really were ready to spit some knowledge earlier.

You [9:29am]: omg haha it’s 1.89 million!!!😳

Yoongi [9:29am]: Knew you were dying to tell 

Yoongi [9:30am]: Also what the fuck wow

Your laugh makes Dom look over, and you shrink at her knowing, smiling head shake. “Don’t perceive me.”

“Hard not to, Miss Down Bad.”

“Hey!”

Her cackle wakes up a sleepy Yuri in the back, but you tell her it’s nothing when she asks if something was up. 

You [9:31am]: ikr?? insane

Yoongi [9:31am]: Love that you know that

You [9:31am]: i just like finding out random things sue me!!

Yoongi [9:32am]: Same. They got me looking up places to eat and I figured you wanted to tell us about the pool thing 

You [9:32am]: ooh there’s a good brunch place by the courts there lemme send the link 

You [9:32am]: and honestly.. it was kinda just meant for you

It’s true. You figured Yoongi would have liked to hear about the area you’re visiting. Maybe Jimin, too, but he’s not the one that’s been subjected to your rambles in the middle of the night, or your short bursts of random knowledge during shows. He’s not the one you’re seeing on the down low.

The way, way down low. 

A few minutes pass by before you get another text, and you assume it’s because he finally found food places. By now, they’re all probably deciding where to go and having a debate over which restaurant would be best. 

Thank god you aren’t in the other vehicles. Poor Shiv has to deal with all of them in your brother’s car and you’re sure Rohan is dealing with Seokjin and Jungkook being competitive for no reason in the other—Jia joining in when she can from the driver’s seat.

Yoongi [9:40am]: Reacted 👍 to your attachment

Yoongi [9:40am]: You can always tell me stuff like that 

You [9:41am]: i know🥹

This man is way too considerate. You’re practically clawing at your door handle to get to him and the trip has only just begun.

You [9:43am]: are you guys really planning on playing a lot?

Yoongi [9:43am]: Yeah we’ll be there until everyone gets bored

Until they get bored? They’re gonna play until sundown! 

Damn, now you wish you did make a change of plans to see him. Is he gonna keep the hat on while playing? Is he gonna keep looking like complete sin while you’re crumbling under the tide?

You [9:44am]: then i’ll never see you again :((

Why the hell did he have to wear that outfit. This is agonizing and he knows it. He has to.

Yoongi [9:46am]: Haha nah we’ll be there

Yoongi [9:46am]: I’m seeing you in that dress again fuck

Butterflies beat around your ribcage, fluttering high and low and threatening to leave the very garment Yoongi mentioned. 

Isn’t he in the passenger’s seat? Isn’t your brother driving? What the hell is this man thinking because texting you is one thing but this one message is bold. 

You [9:47am]: i was wondering if you liked it🥺

Yoongi [9:48am]: It’s all I’m thinking about

You [9:48am]: your hat is all i’m thinking about😒

Whoops. 

Did you mean to send that? Did you mean to give away the damning knowledge that you can’t think of anything else? 

In a way, yes. But also, why the fuck did you give him that power because this man is gonna abuse it the entire trip now. Especially after knowing his track record. 

You close your eyes to slow your heartbeat, letting the situation simmer into the back of your mind like it never happened and you never said a goddamn thing. 

And after a good ten minutes later when you’re almost at the beach house, you finally get a text back. 

Which you groan at on sight. 

Yoongi [9:59am]: Was wondering if you liked it :) 

You [9:59am]: i hate it actually thanks!!!

Your car doesn’t take long to unload after you wake the girls up in the backseat. Everyone grabs their bags and marvels at the huge house before claiming rooms—until someone gets the maniacal idea to wait until everyone got there to randomly choose and see who gets where. 

“This place is huge but how many bedrooms?”

Counting on both hands, you quickly run out of fingers. “Should be six? And I think there’s fifteen of us?”

“Damn!”

“A lot of the rooms have two beds or bunk beds,” Dominique recalls, being the one that actually found this place after a week-long search. It isn’t hard to tell she’s damn proud of the find. “And there’s a master bedroom on both floors. For some reason.” 

That will make things incredibly interesting if the random assignments stay permanent. But you know they most likely won’t given the people staying in this place. It’s honestly a miracle how everyone said yes to coming and actually came through. 

You’re happy. You’re buzzing.  

With a tiny squeal, you giddily sort all the snacks and pre-prepped food throughout the bright, fully spec’d kitchen before checking your phone again. Your brother texted you that they’re gonna be getting “some brunch place” before playing, and you have other notifications sprinkled on your screen. 

The worst of them almost making you chuck your device into the nearest bin. 

Yoongi [10:17am]: Get used to it then :)

You know exactly what that spells out. 

That means the hat stays on. 

May the universe be kind and keep you nice and safe from Yoongi and that stupid cap for as long as possible.

—

—

Turns out, the universe had planned to destroy you from start to finish.

Because not only did your brother and all his friends end up joining your little beach setup quicker than expected.

But Yoongi had decided to go full demon, forgoing the tee for a tank and having shades on his face and his hat reversed. 

That motherfucker did it on purpose. 

All the guys bend under umbrellas to put down their phones and wallets on shaded towels, talking about the games coming up and which ones to put on later. They smell like the sun just like you do, but they all have a clear sheen of sweat that tells you they played ball for hours. 

As soon as most of them head down to the water’s edge, you shoot a fiery glare to your side, waiting for your immediate problem to burn a few feet away. 

And Yoongi does radiate heat, but only in the way stares, taking a sip of his recently procured drink which makes his cheeky demeanor even worse. He’s smiling he’s grinning his teeth are showing he fucking knows.

“You fucker,” you finally bite out, surpressing a grin when he bursts into laughter. “Are you kidding me right now?” 

“I dunno what you mean,” Yoongi airily responds, suddenly showing off that stupid side profile you love so much and being lucky he’s a few chairs away.

Scoffing, you take a sip of your own beverage and watch everyone enjoy the cresting waves, trying your best to keep your eyes off his bare shoulders and capped head.

Besides. If the two of you are caught talking—flirting—this casually with the expressions you’re having? There will be chaos ending this little reprieve. Your brother will come barreling back from the tide and kicking up a mountain of scorching sand in the process.

So it’s best if you just don’t ogle his best friend, as much as you fucking want to. Muttering, you say to the retreating waves, “When I catch you, I swear…” 

Your empty threat wisps into the breeze, and things fall silent for a moment. But it lets you soak in the atmosphere, which you find very enjoyable from the comfort and shade of your slightly reclined chair. 

Blues and yellows are prettiest in the slow exit of summer. The beach feels particularly nostalgic today, with the sound of bubbly crests under a slight, sun-warmed haze. If you raise your arm to reach the water, the wind’s caress would coat you in salty air and blown sand—and you would welcome it all, it all, it all.

“Trust me, I feel the same.” 

What?

Lowering your outstretched limb, you find yourself breathless as Yoongi has since lost his shades, his gaze slowly dragging over every part you have and have not covered. When flittering sunlight hits your eyes, you think you see a hint of yearning in his features, but it’s quickly passed when you look away again. “What do you mean?” 

A creak lets you know he’s leaning in his chair now. “That won’t work on me today, doll.”  

Busted. 

“You know you look fuckin’ hot right now.” 

Double busted. 

Pride shoots into your chest, swelling the breasts barely held in your sundress as you chuckle to yourself. “Says you,” you pout to the rush and crash of water. “This isn’t fair and you know it.” 

“I beg to fucking differ.”

Laughing outright, you rest your head on your chair as you turn. And fuck, Yoongi is a pleasant sight every damn time—and is that a book in his hand? “Now you’re just messing with me.” 

“You see this?” 

Eyes lowering further, you notice the way one of his legs is propped on the long chair while the other hangs off, a beach towel fully spread across both limbs. “Uh huh…” 

“There’s a reason I haven’t gotten up.” 

Oh.

“And as much as I wanna learn about the history of baseball, I can’t read for shit if I’m this hard.” 

…Oh, shit. 

You cannot laugh. It would be way too obvious and way too loud because holy fuck there’s no way Yoongi is in that position right now because of you. 

But you can giggle. 

So you do. 

Which makes things worse for him because his tongue prods the side of his cheek so, so firmly. 

The next thing you wanna say is not to be said aloud. Especially in a public place and especially not when you can see some friends making their way back from the shoreline. 

So you dive into your overheating phone, typing on a hot screen and holding in all your amusement. 

You [4:23pm]: you comin here too?😛

Yoongi [4:24pm]: Keep talking and everyone’s gonna find out

A hand slaps over your mouth before you can stop it.

You [4:24pm]: keep it in your pants omg??

Yoongi [4:24pm]: I’d rather be in yours

What the fuck! 

Stricken, you shut your eyes and instinctively bend your body to cover your sheepiness, chest beating and beating at the soft chuckling you hear three chairs away. Not even the constant swell and cawing of birds can drown out your heartbeat, and you realize you can’t win. At least, not against this Yoongi on a mission to make you melt faster than direct sunlight. 

However. 

You slowly unwind, stretching and rubbing your legs together before exhaling at your screen. 

This does bring up a question you’ve been dying to know for awhile now. And what better way to ask than on a godforsaken trip with all your friends? 

You [4:26pm]: would you ever…

Yoongi [4:26pm]: Reacted ❓ to “would you ever…” 

Maybe it’s too much. 

You [4:26pm]: nvm 

Yoongi [4:27pm]: Use your words 

Well. If he’s asking for it. 

You [4:27pm]: ok😊

You [4:27pm]: would you ever fuck me outside?

You see Yoongi’s foot slip off his chair, but you don’t get to see if he responds because Reia walks up to your outstretched feet, droplets falling from her head and feeling cold yet inviting on your skin. 

When you look up with a smile, you ask as Yuri steps under the wide umbrella, “How’s the water?” 

“Perfect,” Reia says with a grin, and you marvel at how beautiful she is right now. Even though her favorite time is autumn, she really does shine in the season that precedes. “You should join us, I’m just coming to eat some of this.” 

“You really should, babe!” Yuri is quick to agree, and you aren’t surprised by her radiance because summer is her jam. The two piece set she’s wearing has turned multiple heads her way already, but you feel quite endeared by a Rohan that simply shows off his girl. “It’s cold as hell at first but feels good quick.” 

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “I might.” 

Showing off his girl…

You know how much someone else wants to do that. One day. 

Rueful, you bend your legs and watch Reia open the cooler near your chair, feeling the heat of an aforementioned someone’s stare and suddenly forming a wicked idea. “I’ll have some, too,” you chirp, grinning when you receive some slices of watermelon that you all prepped in the beach house hours prior. 

As she stands, Reia takes a crisp bite before looking towards the water, tucking some drenched tendrils behind her ear. The sounds of waves and Yuri’s excited giggles echo in your ears as cool fruit suspends in your fingers, but you can’t eat until you’re back to being alone. 

“Watermelon tastes a lot better when you share it,” your friend suddenly blurts.

Yuri agrees with a slow nod, but your first instinct is to spare a glance Yoongi’s way. 

Thank goodness he’s thoroughly buried in his book. You wouldn’t be able to handle his eyes if he had heard the sentiment and shared a look with you right after. 

But still… Your heart pangs for a million reasons, and one of them is being so close to this man and yet so fucking far. 

So you call his name despite your friends being right there with you. And when he looks up, you forget the wicked idea you had and replace it with a much better one. “Here,” you offer with a smile, “Have some.” 

He blinks for a second before shutting his book, getting out of his seat—with a thankfully tent-less front—to walk over with a slight hunch under the shade. When he gently takes the watermelon from your hand, he murmurs, “Thanks.” 

“Of course,” you respond, starting to sit up to grab more, even though you have to scoot up a little and lean forward to procure another—

Yoongi’s there before you can even sit straight, reaching into the cooler with a toned arm and handing you a perfect slice. He's so close you can feel the heat from his body, and you almost reach out to run manicured fingers along his waistband.

“Oh.” Your heart cannot beat so loud. Your friends are already looking at the exchange, they can’t hear how you’re crumbling, too! “Thank you..” 

“No sweat.” 

Did the temperature rise? Is the sun beating straight through the nylon of your umbrella? Why are your cheeks and neck and chest and thighs feeling so hot? 

The first one you make eye contact with is Reia, because Yuri’s smiling at a Yoongi that’s absentmindedly eating watermelon while watching his friends on the beach. When you act like you don’t know what just happened, your friend gives you a saucy look before eating the last bit of her pink slice. 

She laughs at your downward air swat outright. 

“I’ll join you guys after I eat,” you promise through a bite, hoping that it also placates them enough to leave. “You better not be lying about the water.” 

“I’m not!” Yuri laughs before giving Yoongi one more glance. “You should both join. We have to take pictures, too.” 

When you look at Yoongi standing next to you, this time he is already looking back. And his eyes alone make you forget the rest of the world exists even for a brief moment, your soul suddenly crushed by wondering how fun it would be to walk along the shore with him. 

Huh. That could heal you, you think. 

Lost in thought, you don’t realize that Yoongi is the one that looks away first. “We’ll go.” 

“Yay!” 

“Don’t take too long,” Reia teases, her and Yuri chortling at your dropped jaw. “I’m kidding! Unless…” 

“Alright, that’s it,” you threaten, pretending to get up and grinning when they finally scurry away with laughter and watermelon on their lips. 

Breathing out a little laugh of your own, you settle back into your seat, watching them brave the sunlight again and join everyone. As you scan the shoreline, you see Jimin and Taehyung playing in the waves, and you notice your brother playing volleyball with the rest of the gang a little ways down, though you don’t know how they aren’t perturbed by the horrible playing field. 

They’re gonna be going at that for awhile from the looks of things. 

You’re suddenly overcome with the urge to be brave. 

“Walk with me.” 

What.

Your heart and breath both come to a stop. Because the one that suggests that isn’t you, and you turn sideways to see Yoongi bent with his hands on bare knees to look you at eye level. His hat still sits perfectly on his head, and a tiny bit of juice clings to his chin. 

Reaching out, you softly wipe it off in the boldest move you’ve made in months. “That’s… Literally what I was going to ask you,” you whisper, watching him lift both brows in surprise. 

“Really?” 

“No joke, I was just thinking that.” You tilt your head, eyes creased with a slow grin. “That’s wild.” 

Yoongi stares with eyes that hide none of his thoughts, and you suddenly feel like squirming. The way he manages to have this much aura is unfair. How does one command every ounce of a body’s attention with just one look? 

“Come on then, doll,” he softly says. “Just down to the beach. Then I gotta join them before someone else gets any ideas.” 

Ah. Right. 

Of course he didn’t mean what you meant. Of course the path you have to take is nothing like the one you want to walk. Yuri and Reia had witnessed far too much already and they were joking, because the very idea of you and Yoongi is just that. A joke.

“True,” you agree with a heart lodged in your throat. “Let’s go.” 

And while the walk along the sand does feel nice with him by your side, you peer down the wave-kissed shoreline with longing, yearning to be one of those couples walking side-by-side, hands intertwined while water laps at their ankles. Your chest caves at the realization that you can never do anything like that unless your worst nightmare comes to life, telling your brother and hoping the three of you survive the impending storm. 

So for now, you must feel content with the present. You’ll choose to feel grateful that you can walk by Yoongi’s side as your sundress whips at his legs, intentionally ignoring the stares people give him because you can’t do the same. 

“You look beautiful,” Yoongi compliments to the wind, and you stutter in your next stride. “And if we were alone, we’d still be sitting there eating watermelon. Trust me.” 

Smiling, you feel pricks in your eyes. “Because it tastes a lot better when you share it?” 

“Because that was fucking great watermelon.” 

Hunched forward in glee, you playfully shove his arm, cheeks hurting as he laughs. “I figured you’d like it. We got them at a farmer’s market yesterday just for this trip.”

“I’d kiss you right now just to have another taste.” 

What the fuck? How many times can he make your heart stop today? You may need to take note of the nearest aid station if he keeps this cheeky routine up. “What is up with you?” You hiss out. “You won’t let me catch a break!” 

You’re almost at the shoreline when he chuckles, and you swoon at how big he looks right now. God, you have it so fucking bad today. If this desire and yearning stockpiles, you aren’t quite sure what you’ll end up doing but it’s not gonna be tame.

“If you aren’t playing nice, why should I?” 

“Me?” 

When you both stop right where damp sand gives way to waves, Yoongi turns to face you with a smirk. “You wearing that dress like that for anyone else except us?” 

Floundering like neighboring fish, you finally expel a breath. “No.” 

“Mm. And yet, you got everyone’s attention with just one walk.” 

Huh? No, those people were looking at him. Not you. He’s the one with the aura to match a thousand suns. Why would they be looking at you? 

“You won’t believe me, doll, but it’s true.” Yoongi reaches up to adjust his hat, and you ache at the way he brushes over his hair before positioning it back on again. “I wasn’t gonna leave you there alone.” 

Wait. So he just… 

This man is something else. 

“When you’re finally mine,” you suddenly blurt, capturing his attention and the smell of saltwater, “I just want one walk on the beach with you.” 

Rolling water sloshes right over your toes, and you have to look away because Yoongi’s stare is so full of emotions that you can’t bear to process each one. You know he wants this, too. Which makes all the waiting so damn heartbreaking. 

But you have to do it when the time is right. Not just because of a simple walk on the sand. 

“I’m already yours,” he still manages to say, voice low and aimed towards the waves instead. “And I’ll give you as many walks as you want.” 

“Okay.” Your heart seems to know Yoongi’s about to go, because it beats heavier and heavier before he even turns away. “Have fun over there.” 

“Join whenever you want, doll.” With a look over his shoulder, he flashes a smile. “It's not basketball so you know we're ass at it.” 

Your laugh is whisked away by the summer breeze. 

—

—

As the afternoon passes, everyone has been having a good time. Your friends are even comingling with your brother’s friend group since you all decided to watch their games, cackling because Yoongi was absolutely right.

When it's time to head back to the beach house, everyone packs the setup and lugs everything from the beach, down the winding, plank walkway flanked by tall grass, and up the rickety wooden steps of the back deck. 

Some people choose various bathrooms to shower in while most of the guys and you and Reia start prepping the food. Like always, it's grilling time, so you start unwrapping marinated ingredients while hearing chopping noises and multiple steps in and out the back door. 

It’s definitely a strange but welcoming feeling, knowing you all can work together so seamlessly even though you aren’t always together. Yes, your friends do run into your brother’s friends, but this is the first trip you’ve all gone on together and it’s gone off without any hitches. 

This very fact gives you hope. 

At least, as much hope as an oncoming storm can lend. 

—

—

It’s very late afternoon when most everything has been prepped and served. With incandescent string lights above your heads, the deck and levels below are full of you all either talking loudly over your brother’s music, or sitting and watching the sunset. 

Yoongi has been enjoying himself, you’ve noticed with many smiles. Which is everything that you thought it would be and more. 

But the longing has ascended to an all time peak. Because even when he laughs at something from meters away, you can feel it pierce your chest. Your heart pulses just a little faster, your fingers curl around your cup just a little tighter. 

Your mood slowly descends with the sun. 

Conversations and friends do keep you company. You’re able to truly enjoy yourself in your own little bubble, too. Summertime is where your friend group shines, all of you radiating joy as you talk or get competitive with the mini drinking games. 

After a good amount sloshes around your system, you feel delightfully buzzed. 

And horny as fuck. 

This has happened before after a few drinks during girls night, the feeling that you wanna climb someone like a tree and ride them until all the bark is stripped. 

But all those other times? Didn’t include the sight you have in front of you now. And to everything that is holy, you need this man to defile you in every way possible.

Yoongi has since put chains on. And their glint over his tank and under his hat. Is not good for you.

You need him. You need Min Yoongi right the fuck now. 

When he emerges from the back door with Jimin and Shiv, you have to force yourself to look away, not wanting to witness him grabbing his hat and adjusting his hair again. 

But you don’t look away long enough because as soon as you turn to Jimin, you catch Yoongi slipping his hat right back over his head. Backwards again. Because of course he fucking does.

Of all the people in the world to have clutched your fated red string, did it honestly and truly have to be him? 

Because this feeling is agonizing. 

You damn near rat yourself out just to drag him into the beach house. You don’t care how or when it happens but you need to feel him in your guts right now.

Grabbing your phone, you quietly slip away from your friends’ conversation as Dom tells a story you’ve already heard, telling them that you’re gonna finally shower. They all tell you to use the master bathroom on the second floor, which does sound delightful, but you aren’t going in there to clean up. 

Nope. Quite the opposite. Because your cunt is already pulsing hard and you need relief right this second even if you’re the only one taking care of it. 

You [8:20pm]: fuck

You [8:20pm]: you win

You [8:21pm]: i need you

What’s come over you today? Is it the way Yoongi looks? Maybe, but there’s something else that has you hot and bothered and practically wobbling into the house and towards the winding stairs. 

You take a step, then another, and soon you’re at the top and scanning the whole second floor for anyone else. The scent of salt air permeates even this level, probably from some of the windows left opened from earlier, but you also smell some fresh product wafting from a recently used bath. 

On cue, Taehyung walks out from the master bedroom with a laid back yet expensive looking fit. And you hold back a smile as you hum at his dark wet locks from the staircase. “Someone’s looking nice.” 

His mouth lifts on one side. “And someone’s looking like she needs a break.” 

Miffed, you scoff at his laugh and throw all adoration for his dimple away. “Excuse you? I compliment you and you wound me.” Walking to peek into the wide double doors of the bedroom, you stare in shock. “Oh, what the hell? How did I not look in here before, this is nice.” 

“The shower is fucking crazy,” Tae says, incredulous. “If you turn on both ends and just stand in the middle, it’s heaven.” 

“I did say I'd be showering...” For a brief second, you actually consider hopping in and doing just that. A cold wash would clear your head right out. 

But if Yoongi somehow magically decides to be an idiot, too, you can’t experience the main bath everyone’s raving about just yet. 

Unless… 

No. That would be ludicrous and the worst idea imaginable. 

Your phone buzzes, and Taehyung looks down when you do. He smells absolutely fantastic as you blatantly hide your screen from his view, and you shoo off his cologne and knowing hum. 

Yoongi [8:27pm]: We got time when everyone passes out, I got us

No. That’s not good enough. You need him and you need him now. 

“Tae,” you gulp. “Can you do me a favor?” 

He sighs, but nods. Because you both know he was going to help you anyway and you cannot love him enough for that. “What do you need?” 

“I just wanna be alone with him.” Fuck, you feel like a fool. But you’re way past the point of giving a shit. “Even if it’s just.. I dunno. Fifteen minutes.” 

“I got you,” he confirms. “But you said you’d be showering, so you have to come back out like you did.” 

Fuck. He’s right. How the hell are you gonna do this? 

You don’t know nor care. And you’re smart, so you’ll figure something out even in a horribly horny state. Even Taehyung is looking enticing right now and you’ve only felt this way twice about him years ago. “I can do that.” 

“K. Just get your stuff and bring it here.” 

“Okay.” 

Three minutes later, your stuff is all in the master bedroom with a bunch of other bags, and you’re so driven by lust and want that you consider a cold shower a second time. 

You [8:33pm]: now

You [8:33pm]: i’m gonna take care of this whether you come up here or not

It doesn’t take him long to respond. But you don’t know if it means Taehyung was successful with whatever he planned to do or not because it’s only two words. 

Yoongi [8:34pm]: Oh fuck

—

—

Maybe this is for the best. 

You are on a goddamn trip with your goddamned brother and all your goddamned friends. There is absolutely no reason for you to be sneaking off like troublemakers just because you need him. 

Curse that fucking hat.

As you grip the sink counter with your palms, you stare into the rest of the bathroom, trying to be impressed with the beautiful seafoam tiles and matching paint, or at least happy with how perfectly placed all the decor is around the space. 

Minutes have passed by now, and your heart sinks lower and lower as reality sets its weight on top. 

Well. At least this shower is the nicest one. You can take a long one, stare off into the mint green void, and pleasure yourself imagining the man of your dreams making you see stars. 

Walking to the wide glass doors, you open one before turning the knob on one side, pleasantly shocked at the great water pressure. Moving to the other, you turn that one on, too, and you barely register a clicking sound because you laugh at the sudden thought in your brain, 

“Bet he’d scold me for the water bill here, too.” 

“I’m about to.” 

Your heart leaps from your chest as you spin around, shocked to see Yoongi dumping his bag onto tiled floors and walking over to your bare feet. Shower spray mingles with the pats of his strides, and you can’t form a single thought other than being so happy to see him actually follow through.

“Yoongi—”

“Come here.” 

Everything happens at once. You feel his hands on your face, your neck, sliding down your sides and squeezing your dress at your ass. And your own fingers don’t know where to stop, grabbing at his perfect, flexing jaw, his neck, his shoulders, raking at his back. 

A muffled hmph blows against your lips before he slides out, “Easy with the nails, doll.” 

“Fuck, sorry.”

“Don’t ever have to be.” Yoongi pins you against the wall by the running shower, and if you looked straight on you know you could see his broad back in the long, backlit mirror. “This fucking dress, goddamn.”

“Fuck this hat,” you finally curse out loud, clutching his hand when he starts to remove it. “Don’t.”

“You really like it like this?”

“Yes,” you whoosh out. “It’s hot as shit.” 

Smothering your lips again, Yoongi juts his tongue inside, and you taste whisky and watermelon with a smile. “Good to know.”

“I think,” you gasp as his palm sliding under your dress, “You already know that.”

“Mm… Maybe so.” Cupping your ass again, Yoongi groans when he realizes what you have on underneath your sundress from hell. “What the fuck?” 

“What’s wrong, baby,” you tease, tugging him closer and claiming his lips again. Your hips jut forward into his pelvis as your core slicks over, lingering alcohol fueling your every want and desire. “Something wrong?”

Yoongi’s quiet, competitive laugh is one of your favorites ever. “Someone’s a little buzzed, huh.”

Busted yet again. 

“Is it that obvious,” you ask through a smile, biting your lip when you watch his smirk grow and grow. “Like you aren’t the same.”

A little tch precedes a major grope on your butt, and you laugh at the possessive shove into his very prominent hard-on. “This? Is not the same.”

“Why?”

Cocking a curious brow, Yoongi clearly thinks that should be obvious. But loaded with more adrenaline and lust and now the haze of shower steam, you can’t get there. “You asked for fifteen minutes. I want a goddamn week.”

Okay, that just turned you on another full notch. “Is this still okay?”

“With you? Always.” He dives into your neck, pulsing shivers down your skin and curling your toes. You know you make a sound, but you aren’t aware of how loud it is until you feel a hand over your face. “Now do me a favor.”

“Hmm?”

Before you can ask what, Yoongi sinks to the ground, baring your upper body to the mirror and letting you see exactly how he left you. 

Holy shit, you look fucked out.

Slinging a leg over a strong shoulder, Yoongi hikes your dress before staring upward. Smug as he finally gives you his command, 

“Cover that pretty mouth.”

If the shower wasn’t running double-time, someone for sure would have heard your quick yelp. Because the way Yoongi shoves your swimsuit thong to the side and laps at your sex causes you to buckle and cry right before you clamp a hand over your mouth. 

Fuck. What the fuck? You’re watching him in the mirror and stay slack jawed because it’s unreal how fucking hot he looks between your legs, the cap still on and moving with his every lick and tilt of his sucks. 

“Taste so fucking good.” 

Your breaths are so shallow as your chest heaves, and you watch with pure desire as Yoongi’s hands reach up to squeeze your tits, tugging your dress down until they spill out completely for his pinches and smacks. 

You scream his name through your fingers as your mouth is shut tight. This is so bad. Bad, bad, very very bad. And yet, you feel even hotter, naughtier, sexier knowing there’s a house full of people that don’t know you’re getting fucked by Yoongi’s mouth. 

“Such a good girl.” He very audibly slaps your breast, knowing you can see everything he does. “Yet so filthy for me.”

Grabbing at your ass and tugging you forward, he surges, proudly making a mess of you on his chin. You grab at his hat, but only yank it off to pull at his hair better, and he chuckles so dark you melt. 

“Easy, doll. Not too loud.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you grit out, having to cut yourself off before yelping again at a deep suck, “It just feels so fucking—mmph!”

You’re gonna come. You need this. But you need him inside you even more and you are running out of time and you still have to shower fuck! 

Hurried, you tug him up and smash your lips onto his, tasting yourself alongside everything else he’s consumed today and filling with pride. 

“Get in the shower.” He takes out a condom from his pocket, and you lift a brow while shucking off your dress. “I’m coming in, too.” 

“Planned ahead?”

“Something like that.” Raking his lidded stare over your two-piece, Yoongi groans while biting the wrapper and ripping it. “Fuck me.” 

Your nose scrunches in a smile as you playfully nudge his chest. “You like it?” 

“You’re keeping that on.”

You shrug, smile salacious as you watch him strip. This part always makes you shy, but today? You just want to get straight to it, and time does not wait for shyness. Hopping under the warm spray, you hum while eyeing Yoongi’s head. “Are you keeping the hat?” 

Blinking, he pauses in slipping the condom on. “Do you want me to?” 

“Uhh...”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You nod before letting him into the steam, kissing him before he even gets the door closed with a wobbly thump. Your slick skin feels like heaven on his, hands roaming all over each other like you didn’t just do the same on the other side of the glass. 

When you feel one half of your top shoved down, you mewl right as Yoongi closes lips over a nipple, his fingers freeing the other and pinching just right. Gnawing your bottom lip is the best thing you can do to stop from screaming, but your breaths are so harsh and high-pitched that the echoes are just as bad. 

Shower spray runs down your bodies in rivulets, but you can feel essence of your desire soak your thighs right with them. Your rough pulls on his biceps, his shoulders, his back make him tense, and you can feel his cock twitch on your stomach as he bucks foward. 

“Fuck a fifteen minute—shit.” 

Suddenly, you’re spun, hands crashing into the doorframe as Yoongi tugs your hips backward. 

And holy. Fuck. Your reflection in the mirror across the bathroom.

You’ve never seen Yoongi with eyes this dark, this stormed, this hungry. And he’s staring at all of you like he can’t decide what to keep his gaze on. “Fuck.”

You can only whine.

Slowly, he positions himself at your folds before pushing in, and you both groan at the connection before he hisses out a low string of curses and praise, “…of fucking question is that.”

Your eyes flick upward. Is he talking to you? “Huh?” 

“Asking if I wanna fuck you outside,” Yoongi scoffs out as he fully submerges in your heat, water cascading and bounding off his drenched hat. “As if there’s any place I wouldn’t.” 

Laughing, you turn shy at the very prospect. Getting your guts rearranged while someone could catch you at any moment? By him? You wouldn’t dare say how much that idea turns you on. Because the level is scarily high. 

A dark rumble behind you makes you freeze before a shove has you grappling for your open mouth. Fuck, Yoongi is deep. 

“You wanna get caught so bad,” he correctly assumes under rain, laughing gravelly in your ear and making you look him in the eye through water droplets. “Don’t you?”

Gulping, you grit your moan as he rolls his hips, shoving you into the glass and kicking your head back. Your response is a garbled mess but that doesn’t do enough. 

“Tell me, angel,” Yoongi darkly orders, cupping your chin and holding you firmly in place. “Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna…” His wet fingers are so slick on your chin, his chains hitting the bare skin of your back just right, his dick filling you up so perfectly you could cry. “Wanna fuck you outside.”

“Uh huh. What else?”

Oh god. Is he gonna make you say it?

“Wanna… Fuck.” Yoongi’s fingers have made their way to your neck, slowly wrapping around the slippery column until you’re slightly choked and thrusting at a devastating, slow pace. “I… Sorry, it feels so good.”

He laughs once, tilting your head to claim your lips before whispering, “I know.”

“Wanna get caught,” you wheeze out, some water catching in your mouth. “With you.”

Do you really? Is that why you sound so fucking loud even though you haven’t screamed at all? 

“Fuckin’ knew it.” Yoongi grabs a fistful of your chest, raking his fingers and letting you feel the afterburn of sunlight. “Turns me on and you don’t even know it.”

He thrusts in jilted movements, and you rock against the cool glass each time before he speaks in low, staccato phrases. “Getting caught with you.” A lurch. “Letting them know.” A shove. “Just what you fucking do to me.” 

Your groan fights the skin of your palm, and your walls clench so hard around him he hisses with a lock of his limbs. 

“—always bring me to my goddamn knees, fuck.”

No matter how much time passes, you will never, ever get used to this man and his praise. He could rinse and repeat the same song and you would never believe he’s singing it for you, so sure and yet so unbelievable that you outright laugh in disbelief. “If you keep talking like that,” you gasp, “We really are gonna get caught.”

Another hard push launches you forward before his breath fans your ear. “Maybe I want to.”

The clear shower door keeps your moan in an opaque, warm memory, droplets forming and moving as your breath quickens with each squeeze of your cunt. “Baby—baby, please—”

“You gonna come?”

“Yes, I—”

Slick fingers encircle your throat again, and you mewl under relentless shower spray and perfectly rough thrusts. You feel the coil winding and winding until there’s no room left to squeeze, and right as Yoongi releases your airway all sense of decency and caution flees your body as you moan. 

It’s a rolling, rolling, rolling rolling wave of euphoria. Every limb locks into place as your head kicks back into his slick chest, eyes lost somewhere far behind your arched back. You can hear his praises in your ear but you can’t understand them, every word now unknown to you other than his name. 

When you hear him coax you to come again, though, your body readily responds. And this time, Yoongi has to cover your mouth because you can’t, and you groan so hard into his palm even he reacts with a low grunt of his own, 

“Fuck, babe, I’m—”

A mix of lust, alcohol, and deviousness overcomes your system, and you order him to pull out before you spin with a wince. 

“You okay—”

Slamming your knees onto seafoam tiles, you grip his cock before unwrapping him with the insistence of an impatient addict. And fuck it, maybe that's exactly what you are for him.

“Doll, wait—”

“Lemme suck you off, baby,” you command in a rushed tone, fluttering when Yoongi only groans out a curse. 

The condom slips off with a pop before you fling it away, pumping at his shaft as water rains down on your whole vision. It’s a good thing you know your way around him, because your eyelashes are thoroughly caked with droplets and it’s blurring his beautiful length. 

That goddamn hat. You’re gonna give Yoongi the suck of his life. 

You immediately take a mouthful of him in, pumping him with your puffed lips and lolling your tongue along the bottom of his cock. When he bucks forward, you gag, head rocking back into his wet palm. 

“What the fuck, doll.” 

Licking, sucking the tip, sliding onto his velvety hard skin, you worship him and imagine how he looks with his capped head kicked back, eyes shut tight and brows knitted so wondrously. You hum around him, too, shower ringing in your ears along with his telltale moans. 

You need to do this in every shower ever. 

Yoongi sounds like an angel when he moans here. 

As you hollow your cheeks—

Yoongi yanks your head off, suddenly shuddering his own release and spilling into your chest, fighting to stay upright on the slippery shower floor. And it seems his orgasm is just as powerful as yours because he has to lean forward and grab your head just to muffle his shout, 

“Fuck!” 

Oh, you’re dizzy. This man reacting this way because of you? This selfless, thoughtful, protective man losing his absolute mind because of your body? You don’t know what to do and feel your heart pulsing double-time to keep up with your thoughts. 

He’s so perfect like this. Lost to his release and heightened pleasure and you want to give him everything he’s ever wanted. Is this how he feels about you? Is this piercing pride in your chest something he shares, as well? 

Maybe. But you’d never believe him if he said it’s true. 

It takes all of you to keep yourself up and stable, energy zipping up and down your limbs before they settle with the warmth of satisfaction. 

When you start to feel soap suds on your skin and the gentle rubs of a loofa, you feel like crying. Because of course Yoongi is gonna make sure you keep your word that you did, in fact, shower. 

Smiling soft, you bring him in for a kiss before lightly taking his cap off. Slowly grabbing the soapy loofa, you use it on his skin, too, making sure to get as much of him as you can just in case he was supposed to be showering, as well. 

When he protests, you order him to let you. And when you set his hat down to wash his hair, too, he looks like a man deep in thought and at peace. Which is exactly how you want him to be. At peace and happy and satisfied. 

"Your knees okay?"

You wince. "They'll live."

"If they still hurt tonight, let me know."

"K.."

The rest of the shower is just that: showering. Both of you use each of the sprays, bumping here and there and quietly laughing at the normalcy of it all. 

—

—

When you’re both getting dressed, you faintly hear the music bumping outside. It’s been seventeen minutes, so you know you’re pushing it heavily. 

But you still want to ask, “How was baseball?” 

Yoongi suddenly laughs, and you lose yourself in the shake of his naked shoulders. As he slips on another long pair of shorts, he readily admits, “Embarrassing. We all sucked.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and your heart beats wildly as his creased eyes keep staring into yours. “Damn, now I wish I watched.”

“You really would’ve smoked us,” he chuffs, “If you weren’t kidding about your arm.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m pretty fucking good.” Yanking on an oversized tee, you hum as you hear him put on his own dark shirt. “Having a brother and a lot of free time practically forced greatness on me.” 

Yoongi chuckles again, walking over to touch his forehead to yours. Holding the tips of your fingers, he sighs, “So fucking cute.”

“Nu uh.”

“Uh huh.”

The mention of your brother hadn’t even phased you, and by the unbothered look in his eyes, hadn’t done anything to his best friend. 

Is this a sign? Are you both ready? 

Or is summer really just casting her effervescent spell stronger than usual? 

Either way, you both finally face the real world, quietly bagging up the discarded protection and staggering your exit back into the house and out the back door. 

But before Yoongi leaves, he turns and walks away from the bathroom door with purpose, tugging you in for a toe-curling kiss and smushing you against the tiled wall.

God, you feel like kids. Maybe you both still are. And that’s what you like about Yoongi, experiencing what was ripped from your youth by guys that only used and took and discarded. 

With him? You feel alive. So beautiful, and gleaming, and dare you believe it, like a goddess in silver and gold. 

The metal you’re staring at right now calls to you, and you grip Yoongi’s chains in your hand before whispering low,

“Thank you.”

He looks at you with curiosity. “For what, babe?”

“Just.. everything.” You plant a light kiss on his cheek to let it linger as he goes. “Now get out before we actually do get caught.” 

He hisses out a laugh before kissing your forehead, and you remember how he feels like summer to you, too. “Throw around with me when you get down there.”

Huh? Does he really mean that? “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll get the guys to do it and you can join us.”

Suddenly shy yet bursting with pride, you agree. “Sounds fun. I’ll go easy on y’all.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Yoongi taps your cheek before heading out for real, leaving you to stare at a back that’s grown so big since you first knew him. You’d think you would be used to it by now, but you’re not. Because the weight of his world is more than you can imagine, and you would do anything to help relieve him of it again and again and again. 

So if he wants you to join him for a little catch? Even if he just wrecked your soul and ability to walk straight on two legs? Throwing with a sore arm because you had it bent for most of your much needed, very stupid, risky tryst? Of course you fucking will.

The very dry, very new hat on his head was already enough to convince you. 

It’s baseball season, after all. 

—

—

Hours later, a shout from upstairs rings from the master bedroom.

And you can only stare at your phone with burning ears, kneecaps to match, and a terrible, crooked smile. 

“Yoong! You left your hat in the shower!” 

—

—

fin. :)

⟶ what do we feel! | join the taglist | masterlist | feedback box!

nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those, i think that's it, maybe a little angst??, yes angst

—

—

nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those, 

Clad in only a simple tank and sweatpants, Yoongi lazily leans on the back kitchen counter, hair framing his face and eyes downward as he’s busy peeling a small, vibrant clementine. 

When you don’t speak, he slowly lifts his gaze. And his dark rasp shakes you straight down to your bare, curling toes, 

“You have fun?” 

You’re so in shock that your knees almost knock together, mouth struggling to form words in a coherent order, “Yoongi, what’re you— doing—”

“I live here, genius.”

“You… And Joon—”

“Joon? Cute.”

“I—what are you even doing up—” 

“Need a ride?”

You pause, suddenly forced to make a decision with your mind still lust-laced and dizzy. But you finally decide to turn his offer down, which is the best choice considering it would be far too much hassle for him to know you live so close. “I can manage.”

“It’s late as fuck.” Yoongi pushes off the counter before chucking his peels in a trashcan. God, do his bangs really have to shift like that when he turns? Can you focus on anything else? “Lemme drive you. Unless you wanna stand on the back of his pedal bike.”

“Uhh.”

Shit, you don’t want anyone knowing where you live. Which happens to be very, very close. “My friend can scoop me,” you respond, still unmoving like it would further disturb the surrounding air.

“…Still weird.”

And yet Yoongi disrupts it himself. You quickly flip him off as you text, asking a question to his laugh as you hit send, “Is she still here, too?”

The answer is quick and bored, “Nah.”

Figures. “You don’t let them stay, huh.”

At this, Yoongi takes slow strides to your leaning form, eyes roaming over every exhausted inch and holding a spark you haven’t seen in them before. 

When he reaches your silence, his hands softly tug your hips, and you suddenly notice how his thick sweatpants accentuate the fit of his tank annoyingly well. “Wanna find out?”

“You whore,” you meekly grit, starting to push him away before he growls. “You’ve never taken me ho—”

“Goddamn, he went hard.”

Shit. Your hand flies to your neck. “Oh, fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

Flicking up a brow, you grow very, very curious. “As if you didn’t do the same with whoever that was?”

“Mm.” He leans on an elbow next to your still frame. “Don’t fuckin spill, either.”

“That you’re roomies?”

“Yeah. We’ve known each other for years before moving over here.”

“You’re scheming, huh.”

He only smiles before flicking a finger over your nose.

It’s fucking genius, if not borderline criminal. “So what, you take south side and he takes west?”

“Smart.” He gives you a look of approval. “Why stay in the same circles when we can win both?”

“Well, shit,” you exhale, eyes roaming the floor in thought before you drop your jaw in frustration. “Wait, you even played me! Fuckers!”

Yoongi immediately laughs, and you can very much smell his breath—full of peppermint. Interesting. 

But he doesn’t notice your observing stare. “I didn’t know you’d run into him. How do you even know each other?”

“I see him at the gym.”

“Mm.” A sage nod. “Guess it’s not surprising.”

You look away, a little hurt that neither of them told you but having no basis of why they would. It’s clearly not like they tell each other when they’re bringing people home.

But still, you pout. “Can’t believe y’all.”

“What are we gonna do with you.”

We? Him included? Irony seems to leak from his puffed lips tonight. “Clearly you won’t do anythi—”

A door opens and snips your accusation in half, and you snap your head to see Namjoon leaving his room in a rush, eyes darting between both of you from the end of the hallway. “Oh, you’re… Oh.”

“Ah,” you start, “Hi.”

“Uhh.”

“She won’t tell.”

“K.” He keeps his stare, blinking sleep off before tilting his head at you. “You leaving?”

Damn, why are you feeling so sheepish? “Yeah.. I should’ve told you before. I don’t, umm.” You feel the weight of Yoongi’s stare and Namjoon’s awaiting expression, and they both clash in your gut. “It’s not you. I just don’t ever stay.” 

“Oh.” Namjoon walks down the hall, his grey sweats and lack of a shirt making you so fucking weak you’re already mentally stumbling. When he speaks, you trip even harder, scraped by his drowsy rasp, “You could’ve just told me. I would’ve gotten you a ride.”

That would’ve still meant he would type in your address or see it after you did it for him. You like the sentiment, though. “Maybe next time,” you tease with a wink. 

Thank goodness he’s easily placated. If things got weird already with Yoongi right here? 

“Wait,” Joon blurts, mind whirring behind those eyes, “You said you followed Gloss, but. I didn’t know y’all knew each other.”

Oh. Uhh.. 

When you speak, you ignore Yoongi’s curious yet amused look, astounded that he even let you talk first, “Something like that.”

Instead, the man chuckles in arrogance right after. “Something like that, yeah,” he says through a lopsided line. “Gonna give her a ride home.”

“No need,” you stop him with a hand, and they both zero in on your nails. “I… uhh.” 

Shit. You really don’t want to call a ride for the same complex, and you definitely don’t want them knowing you’re a walk away. So when you look down at your phone, a white lie slides out of your mouth, and you have to deal with a choice, “My ride said they’re gonna be awhile, so...”

Both of them look at each other.

“I could just stay… If that’s cool.”

For the first time probably ever, both Namjoon and Yoongi are silent. But in their brief pause, you just inspect your nails and wonder if you should switch them up again. Maybe back to that set you had at the beginning of last month? You really keep coming back to this color combo, though. “But don’t get any ideas if I do. I just wanna shower and sleep—”

“You can sleep with me,” they both respond in unison, and you can barely hold in your laugh when an argument sprouts.

“She was just with you.”

“My bed is better.”

“We have the same one?”

“Mine’s bigger.”

“It is not.”

“Who’s the one that brought her here?”

You halt them, sparing their neighbors from a verbal sparring match and not wanting to think about that last part. 

Because you’re still a little hurt that one of them really hasn’t taken you here, and the same guy falls a little too quiet.

When you finally offer your own suggestion, Yoongi looks at you first. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Nah,” Namjoon rejects immediately, walking forward and heading your way. “I’ll take it. Use my room.” 

Fuck, this man is fine and considerate? “No no, I’m cool with it.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve slept in much worse places,” you assure, bringing up many, many terrible reminders in your head. “And I think you both need some good sleep, too.” 

“Use my shower then,” Yoongi finally pipes up, and both you and Joon pin him with shock. “I got clothes you can use, too.”

Oh. This is… This is new. 

Blinking, you can’t help but swallow your inner thoughts, wondering why he’s offering and a little giddy about it. Is this Yoongi being accommodating? Or jealous? Either way, it’s adorable coming from him.

Well. If both of them are offering to take care of you, you’ll gladly take them up on it. This is downright delightful. How do you just keep winning?

“You guys decide,” you say with arms folded, pretending to be huffy and internally grinning. Watching their competitive natures collide in real time is just too fun. 

But finally, Namjoon flexes his jaw before heading into the kitchen for water,

“You use my shower next.” 

When you feel Yoongi visibly exhale at your side? This is when it’s undeniable. 

These guys are just big teddy bears. Caustic on the mic and absolutely fiendish when it comes to wordplay and demolition, they’re just boys at the end of the day. And it’s so endearing you find yourself sinking more and more into these apartment walls.

No no. Get real. You have aspirations and dreams. Don’t get too caught up before you achieve them. 

But it’s okay to let go for just a bit. So your eyes follow Namjoon like a fool, winking and beaming at his growing, quiet smile.

To which Yoongi hums at. “You hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“K.”

“I might be later, though. So y’all better feed me.”

They have varying levels of mirthy scoffs, and you go into the kitchen to ask Joon for a water, too, which he’s already handing to you. 

“That thing you did,” you start, knowing you have both of their attentions, “With your fingers.. Do that next time, too.” 

While you really do want Namjoon to do whatever the fuck he just did with you, you’re also showing him there’s no reason to be jealous. If he is. 

And he pulls you in for a kiss, smiling and chuckling at your little bit of shyness. Because he tamed the fuck out of you tonight, and you will give him all the softness you got left. It’s only fair.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers to your ear. 

Humming, you slide a hand along his arm. “Good to know.” When you scratch just a tad, only you can hear his breath catch. “Guess I’ll go clean up your mess now.”

“Gonna take me hours to clean up yours.”

“Mm. Good problems.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.”

This man is too suave and it’s a goddamn problem. 

When you leave Namjoon’s side with a quickened heart rate, Yoongi’s still on the wall with his phone, foot propped on the floorboard before he sees your look of satisfaction. 

And he actually waits for you before you follow him to his room. 

In terms of aesthetics, Yoongi’s room is different from Namjoon’s despite being the same level of minimal. Where Joon has posters of rappers and shelves of books and vinyls, Yoongi has basketball players and what looks like production equipment. But they both have desks littered with sheets of paper, journals, and writing utensils, trash cans mostly filled with balled up scraps.

It’s actually… inspiring. They really do the work and it clearly, clearly shows.

“You just gonna stand there?”

“No,” you say, petulant. “Just don’t know when I’d ever be back so I’m taking it all in.”

It’s kinda true. Probably actually true. But you can’t force him to do anything when it comes to you, so if this is your only chance then you’re taking advantage.

Though… he did offer for you to just sleep through the night with him… What does that mean?

Turning with a mind full of thoughts, you see Yoongi quietly watching from his closet before his voice drifts across carpet,

“Come here.”

Silent, you go to stand in front before he pulls you in and slowly pins you against an empty wall. And being in a smaller space with him so close? Strangely, you feel comfortable and a little at home, if only because this is how you both usually end up anyway. 

At home. Irony is dripping from your lips, too. 

“You’ve never taken me home,” you pout to his mouth, deciding to be vulnerable and hating it. “Why?”

You expect to be dismissed. Or even just given an offhanded comment or a quick joke. 

So you’re completely thrown when Yoongi chooses to kiss the side of your neck that isn’t marked to hell, one slow pass after the other.

Ah. He’s avoiding your question. 

That’s fine. He’ll be a much harder one to crack, you assume. Definitely seems a lot more private than most, but you’re the same way so it’s not like you have room to talk—

“Cus you’d never leave,” he murmurs against your skin, going for your shoulder. 

Oh.

Wait, what?

If he’s assuming things about you, he’ll be sorry to note that you’d surpass his expectations. But under his fucking impeccable kissing and godforaken cologne, your reply comes out a lot less confident than you’d prefer, 

“Gimme some credit. I’d show some restraint.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Hmm?”

You get kissed on your jaw before you can register what he means, and he falls really silent after letting up, eyes on your lips as he quietly admits, 

“I’m saying I’d keep you here.”

…Oh. Oh, that’s… 

You blink in stunned silence, stomach flipping when he glances at your eyes before kissing your neck again so languidly it lulls you into a trance. “You’d… do that…?”

“Maybe so.” He brings you into his pelvis, hands rounding to rest just behind your hips. “But I know I’d make you wanna stay anyway.” 

“Prove it later,” you challenge with a hitch. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I’m proving it now,” he corrects with confidence, chuckling deep when your arms sling over his shoulders. “Aren’t I.”

You kiss his neck in response, and he chuckles into his groan because he knows what it means. 

Fuck, his skin feels divine. And his breath is full of peppermint and clean and you sense no trace of whatever you saw him doing earlier. It’s a strange contrast to how he’s acted around you before. You don’t doubt that he’s done this same exact thing with someone else after eating you out—just like you’ve done before. It’s nothing special. 

So why does your chest constrict?

“Fine,” Yoongi breathes you in, clutching at your neck. “There is another reason.”

You freeze. Wondering what the hell he means and washing over with anxiety. “What?”

Another reason he never takes you home? That can’t be good. 

Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gone home with him before, if he’s not even comfortable saying it outright then the two of you aren’t meant to be more than ships passing in the night.

“I…” He sighs, touching his forehead to yours. “I never asked cus I know what would happen.”

Wait. What the hell does that mean? Why is Yoongi being so damn cryptic? “Why? I’m a fun time.”

He huffs away from your face. “That’s exactly why.” 

You stare, and stare some more.

“I,” he laughs again, and it’s not a joyful one. “I even thought about getting your number a thousand times. And couldn’t even ask for that.”

Your chest heaves. What is Yoongi saying? What’s gotten into him? This man is fearless on stage, who is this guy that can’t even look you in the eye right now? “I don’t get it, Yoongi. You don’t know me but you don’t have to be scared of me, so what’s…”

Oh. You don’t like that tiny slanted smile at all. 

“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.” When he pushes off the wall, his hand slides off slow. Deep in thought, he turns and goes for a shirt hanging from his rack. “Here. Your favorite.”

He means the color. Your stomach feels funny. “How’d you know?”

“Your nails,” Yoongi responds offhandedly as he fishes sweats from a drawer. “There’s a color you use a lot.”

What. The actual fuck. “Oh. Well, shit.”

He doesn’t mention what you just accused him of, but it’s in his eyes. His whole face. And you are a damn fool. 

When Yoongi hands you a baggy pair of pants, you slowly take it, brain overloaded with thoughts. “There’s extra toothbrushes under the sink. You can use anything in there, too. Just put everything back in the same spot.” 

“K.” 

He just said a lot of vulnerable shit. What the hell are you supposed to do? How are you supposed to walk out of here knowing what you know now? 

You’re not gonna address any of it. That would require way too much thinking and feelings on your own part and you need space to unpack your own shit. 

But you do stop him from leaving his closet, waiting until he turns around to notice your hand on his wrist. “You brushed your teeth.. Why?”

His lips close while his brows slightly bend.

And what he says to the side of his doorframe makes your heart fall a few clouds down, flipping your world and rocking you off balance entirely,

“She didn’t taste like you.” 

Yoongi means it. You know it in your bones.

And if he didn’t move just out of your reach. And if you weren’t taking the couch and sleeping in here instead. 

Something may have shifted even more than it already has tonight. 

Because your heart is starting to beat in two different cadences. Over, and over, and over.

Fuck space.

“Come here,” you whoosh out, spinning Yoongi so hard he rams you back into a wall. And finally, your mouths collide, with you attacking his lips just as much as he does yours. You fully taste peppermint and nothing else and that is crazy considering how much he had to do to be this clean and fuck his kissing is perfect. 

Yoongi knows exactly what to do with you. And he knows exactly what to do to pitch you over the edge in a second. Nails rake into his stupid hair before you feel his annoying hands all over your neck, his fingers all over your head, his chest all over your heart—

Outright fear shoves him back, and your breaths are the only two elements of sound when he freezes a few steps away. Exhale. Exhale. A swallow. Another one.

That was…

He looks…

Fuck.

You use what little logic you have left to speedwalk past Yoongi’s shoulder.

Knowing he’s letting you dip because it’s what’s best for both of you. 

—

—

Namjoon is a gentleman when you come back into his bedroom after pacing a hole in the living room, holding off your shower time a slight tad. From his desk chair, he asks if you’re okay staying and you tell him it’s fine since you do know both of them.

“Also,” he breathes out. “You’re stunning.”

That came out of nowhere. “Oh.. I know, but thank you.”

Leaning back in his chair, the man lets out a breathy laugh. “Fuck, I love how you know that. I was just gonna say.. Well.” He fidgets. “Don’t let me keep you down.”

“What?”

“Like.. Yeah. I love going on dates with you and seeing you at my thing.. I dunno, it made me happy as fuck.” He then scratches an ear. “But I know you got a lot going on so it’s okay if—”

“Are you done with me?”

Immediately, Namjoon shoots up and walks straight to your squared shoulders, cradling your chin and responding so deep your mind reels. “Did I say that, baby girl?”

“No.”

“I’m just saying,” he smoothes a hand over your arm. “I’m okay if I’m not the only thing. I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. It’s incredible. So if you don’t have time, it’s okay.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll be there when you need me,” he says. “I’m okay with just going with the flow. I know you already know, but—uhh—if you wanna see other people, it’s cool.” 

“You… You sure?” Blinking, you frown. There’s an explanation for this switch up and it’s existing and haunting you from the other room. “Is this because of Yoongi?”

His face cannot lie. “Kinda, yeah.” 

“Oh.”

“I saw how you looked at him.” Namjoon slides his hands down, and you follow those long fingers and curl your heart when they do. “And even more than that, I saw how he looked at you.”

Ah. That makes you bite down hard. “We’ve known each other for awhile, that’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all. But seriously, you don’t have to pretend or anything around me. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

“Hey, same here.” You lift a hand to smooth the stubble on his chin. “Don’t let me hold you down, either.”

“I am more than happy with you doing anything to me.”

“Joon.” You give him a little pat. “I’m serious.”

“And I’m not?”

Your lips purse. “If you’re really okay with it, I am, too.” When you slip arms around his strong form, you sigh into his chest. “But I’m having so much fun with you.”

He circles you in warmth immediately. “Fuck, same here.” He laughs. “You really got me with that bar line.”

Ecstatic, you try to spit some scheme of your own, slowly petering out the more and more you know you’re losing it, “Really? Got more in the chamber, yeah, I like danger.. Uhh.. Something, something, it’s a.. banger… Ah, damn, I dunno.”

Namjoon fully laughs at you now, his arms circling even tighter and fingers splayed wide across your backs “I’m in trouble,” he bemoans. “You have to stop or you’d be right back in that bed.”

“Next time.” You reach to kiss him, knowing he can taste the peppermint on your tongue but not speaking about it. “I’m really gonna go shower now.” 

“K.”

“And hey.” You hold his forearm. “If you really wanna do this—just us—we can try. You just gotta let me know.”

He hesitates for a second. But it’s enough to clue you into it not being a confirmation. “I will.”

Yup. That wasn’t a now answer. So you smile and head out to go to Yoongi’s bathroom, across the hall from his room. Guess he got the shorter end of the stick in the layout.

It’s fine. You don’t wanna approach his door again yet.

That’s gonna wait until later. 

—

—

After you shower and get ready for bed—as well as you can in a bathroom that’s not a woman’s and not yours—you’re so exhausted that can barely keep your eyes open. 

But there’s something you wanna do before sleeping, so you finally knock on the door you’ve been avoiding. 

No answer. 

Well. Guess the universe has other plans. 

But you suddenly hear clacking and a voice to hold on, and you straighten as Yoongi opens up. 

Headphones around his neck, his gaze immediately goes to his clothes on your frame, and you steel your gaze before holding out your hand. “I’m only gonna ask once.” 

He stares. 

“Gimme your phone.”

Yoongi blinks before turning to reach behind him, grabbing his phone off the desk before handing it to you. As you type, he just watches, silent. 

And you start to wonder what he’ll say when you hand it back. “Put whatever you want for my name. If you ever text me, I’m naming you the village idiot.”

He grins wider and wider, looking down and biting his lip in thought. When he moves closer, you stop him in the doorway,

“Don’t.”

“What’s wrong.”

“I…” Sighing, you set a rule, hating yourself for setting a boundary but deeming it necessary for your own good. Both of your own goods, really,

“The next time I go in there will be when you take me home.” 

Yoongi looks at you without words, shifting his gaze between your eyes for any hidden meanings when there are none. “You sure?”

You know what he’s asking. And you flat out ignore the spark you catch in that stare. “We aren’t exclusive,” you say, looking at Namjoon’s door. “We’ve never said we were, so yeah.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you don’t know whether to keep standing there or shove him back and go in yourself. The best choice would be to walk away, though, so you start to do so—

“About that girl.”

You stiffen. “This isn’t off to a good start, Min—”

“She bailed on me.” 

…Wait, what? You heard her for a good amount of time. “When? Why?”

“Uhm.” Yoongi looks away with a shift of his jaw and some teeth. “I was.. distracted.”

Fuck. Just like you were? “Like you two weren’t loud, too.”

“Nah, like… Said the wrong name distracted.”

“Said the wrong… Whose name did you—” You blink. Hard. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Goddamn it, Yoongi.” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, feeling for the poor girl. “That’s the worst you could ever do.” 

So she had to have left in the middle, right? But you swore you heard him for awhile so maybe they kept going for a little before she came to her senses instead of around his di—

“And for what it’s worth,” Yoongi continues with a point, “I don’t bring many people here anyway. She’s the first one in a long time.” 

When he leans on the doorway, you let his eyes drag down your body, knowing he didn’t get to have it tonight and feeling a little smug. “Of fucking course it’d be when you show up, too.” 

Your hum to a lifted shoulder makes his pupils dark. “Could’ve been you,” you tease. When Yoongi doesn’t respond, you ignore it and fold your arms. “But seriously? You don’t?”

“Nope.” His hand dips into his sagging pants pocket, looking towards his roommate’s room. “And no one from where we usually go. Namjoon and I don’t want anyone knowing we live together, so it’s best to keep everyone in the dark.”

That makes sense. But there’s a thought that stands out in your mind. “Wait, but… You both knew I knew your names.”

When Yoongi looks back at you, your chest caves at his expression under those tendrils. “Yeah. And I wanted to take you home several times, so what does that tell you.”

…Several? Yoongi, what the fuck?

Heart beating. Those unwavering eyes. These breaths between your bodies short and waiting. 

Were you… always this into him? Have you really been ignoring how you’ve felt because things with Yoongi were just… easy? 

Is this why he didn’t want to bring you home? Because you really can’t fucking think straight and it’s aggravating.

So you swallow. “I should.. Go to bed.”

Yoongi nods and looks down the hall. “There’s extra blankets on the couch. And he gave you one of his pillows.”

A switch was definitely flipped. You don’t know which one you hit or how you managed to do it, but thank god because this was getting a little too real. “K. Thank you both.” 

“No sweat.” Yoongi looks at you without shame, and you wonder if it’s to remember how you look in his tee. 

Please don’t be the reason. 

“You’re the first one to ever stay,” he murmurs, as a fact and a final good night. “He doesn’t let anyone do this, either.”

Oh. Holy shit. 

“Then I’ll be sure to snore loud as fuck,” you bluff, melting at the way Yoongi shakes his head in a laugh. “Night, Yoongi.” 

He stares at you one more time. 

And you keep staring right back.

One second becomes two, and two seconds become three. 

Screw what you said earlier. All Yoongi has to do is let you in. All he has to do is utter one syllable of invitation and you’re taking residence in his bed.

But in the end, he doesn’t. And you’re completely, totally, seriously fine with that. 

“Night.”

…Right?

—

—

You stay up until you can’t fight sleep anymore. 

— 

—

When you wake, you notice the bright sunshine outside their living room windows. But it’s really, really bright. How long were you out?

There’s a note on the coffee table saying they both left, but there’s a spare key and one of them can take care of your ride. Right next to said items is a covered plate of food, and you have a suspicion as to who made it. 

Well. This is honestly the best outcome that could’ve happened. You don’t have to worry about them knowing where you’re about to go. 

So you take your time and really observe everything, noticing how sore you are and that you’ll need time to recover. The walls and decor in their place are also minimal in the more public spaces, but there’s a lot of earth tones and a surprising amount of plants. Not what you’d expect from two guys tearing up the battle rap scene in two sectors of the city.

Then again, you didn’t expect them to know each other, either. Looks like they’re both really good at putting on masks.

And taking them down when you’re alone with them.

“Kept myself away for far too long.”

“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.”

Your face finds the cup of your palms.

—

—

Bathroom. Freshen up. Walk around their kitchen and observe the little things. Finally sit down to eat.

When you dig in, you savor each bite, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Is this gonna be the last time you’re here? Or is this going to be a turning point in your life and there will be many, many stops at this station?

Guess you’re just gonna have to find out.

Yoongi’s food is damn near enough to convince you to come back, though. Goddamn, he can cook in there, too.

—

—

You purse your lips and shake your head when you time the walk from their building to yours.

Not even two minutes. Oh god, that is so fucking close.

But you join a whole new energy as you open your apartment door, delighted to see your roommate and his newfound obsession with tank tops.

“Damn, where were you?”

“I told you,” you laugh. “Here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You realize what he means, and you saucily lift a shoulder. “Turns out, he’s really good.”

Namjoon? 

Or Yoongi?

Hoseok lets out a soft laugh. “You look a little… I dunno.”

You know what he means. Because even though you should be glowing enough to match his shine, things happened that threw you for a loop. And while you are very good with your quickwittedness and solution driven attitude, this is gonna need a bit more nuance. 

“Just have things to think about,” you summarize. “How was your date?”

“So fun!” Hobi rushes over to the couch and brings over a fun looking accessory. “Look what they got me.”

It’s perfect. A little acorn bag that would go great with multiple items in his closet. “Wow.. Great taste.”

“I know, right?”

He excitedly puts it down before guiding you to your room, and you suddenly seem guilty for whatever the hell you’re doing with him. 

Is Hobi an exclusive kinda guy? Why can you not remember? 

But he takes your bag and sets it all down, and you stew in more complicated thoughts as he leads you to your bed. Are you even gonna go back to sleep at this point? Why does bed sound like the perfect place to be? 

“Those his clothes, too?”

Oops.

Wincing, you slowly find a hard admittance in your throat, “Uhh.. Nope.”

The downturn of his brows comes as no surprise. 

“It’s hard to explain,” you say as you plop down on your made comforter. “But trust me, I had a really good time. I’m glad you did, too.”

Maybe you had too good of a time.

“Scoot over,” your roommate suddenly says, climbing into your bed before you even get to move.

“Hello?”

“Scoot!”

Laughing, you move to the middle of your bed as he tugs up the covers, sliding into the cool den right next to you. “What are we doing?”

“Napping.”

“It’s late in the afternoon?”

“Sweet dreams.” Hoseok snuggles into you, and you feel your shoulders loosen immediately. “Mm mm mm.”

You groan, knowing he can hear the smile inside. 

Is this man aware that he’s the only one that can order you around like this? Because if he is and is now taking full advantage, you may need to tighten your restrictions. 

“You smell expensive.”

Eyes downcast, you pretend to giggle. “I know, right.”

You don’t have the heart to admit you just wanted to keep wearing Yoongi’s clothes, and breathing in Namjoon’s scent. 

— 

— 

For the next two full weeks, work life gets busy for you, so you have to stay focused or else risk falling behind. 

And of course the family is having lots of get togethers when it’s crunch time so your stress is through the roof, so you need need need to blow off some steam more than ever. As much as you enjoy the festivities and cookouts and reunions and random birthdays, you’re getting way too overstimulated too fast. 

Because work is hell.

But showcases happen at night, so you can’t make them because your schedule requires early mornings. Anything starting late is out of the question. 

You don’t hear from Namjoon or Yoongi. But you start to wonder if that means they’re working or writing or even going to the same studio he mentioned. That would be sick if they were working on some record or mixtape together—or even individually? Hot hot hot either way. Your work ethic can’t lose to theirs.

So you brush off the lack of communication and just assume good intent. You haven’t reached out either because you’re so busy, so why should they?

Back to work you go.

—

—

Eventually, on a random Thursday, Joon finally texts you. And it’s so out of the blue that you pick up the phone and call instead.

Namjoon [14:02]: Did I mess up?

It doesn’t take him long to answer the phone, so you dive right in, staring at unfinished work on your laptop, “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard from you, so I thought… I dunno.”

This man. Was he really worried this whole time? You wonder how much of these two weeks you got wrong. “I haven’t heard from you, either.” 

“Damn. I’m not good at this.”

You laugh. “It’s my fault, too. I could’ve just asked.” 

“You doing okay?”

That makes you stop, not hearing those words in a minute. Between everyone you’ve seen, only one of your little cousins checked on you solely because you were staring into space in your uncle’s backyard. She probably thinks you’re crazy now, but whatever. “Uhh, I’ve been better. You?”

“Nah, hold on. What’s wrong?”

Your smile is weak. He really is the same guy you met awhile back. “Work is just kicking my ass.” 

“I feel that. I’m sorry.”

“You liar.”

“Huh?”

Grinning, you tuck your phone under your chin and keep typing away. “You are good at this.”

“Oh.” He laughs. “Talking to people?”

“Talking to me.”

“That right? Can I get that in writing?”

Nails paused on plastic keys, you laugh. “Now you’re pushing it.” 

“Sorry.”

“Good boy.”

A hitched breath. A bit of pause on the line. 

Very, very interesting. 

But you spare him this once and say you’re down to hang tomorrow. “We can try a rooftop dinner this time?”

“I wish. But I’m actually gonna be busy.”

“Oh? Studio?”

“Nah, like. Flying out to another city busy.”

“No shit! Okay, I’ll put you down as a no for the rooftop dinner.”

Joon laughs, and it really hits your ear just right. “Yeah, put me down as a no this time.” 

“Both of y’all are leaving?”

“Nah, just me.”

Your pout is super evident in your tone. “What am I gonna do without you?”

“I dunno. Probably cheer Yoongi up.” Your heart stops as Joon laughs, and you can hear a faint set of yells on the line. “He’s been moping all fucking week.”

“Was that him?” You ask with a laugh, already wondering what the hell is happening wherever they are. “What a baby!”

“Tell him yourself!”

So you do, yelling into the phone and knowing it’s gonna come out so crunchy, “Yoongi, get up!” 

There’s more laughing and a muddle of words, but you can’t make them out too much. But just that helped you burn some steam. 

Yoongi? Moping? He gets moody just like you do, but you’ve never seen him moping. What happened? 

Well. You’d ask if he’d fucking text you. But since that hasn’t happened yet, guess you’re left to speculation. 

“But yeah. I miss you, but work is important. Wanna go out sometime next week?”

“You know I do.”

“Perfect. I’m putting it in my phone so I don’t miss it for any stupid reason.”

“Next Friday is best.”

“K. Got it.”

— 

—

The next afternoon, the door to your apartment flings open, and you snap your head to the muffled sound before clutching your phone tight. 

What the fuck? 

You almost think to call for help when you hear footsteps thump to the far side of the unit, and a further door banging shut.

Fuck, that was Hobi. What the hell is up? 

Abandoning your laptop, you rush out of your room and cross the shared living space, lifting your hand to knock on his door but hesitating. 

What are you pausing for? It’s Hoseok, and he’s clearly not happy. He’d be at your door before you could even fling your purse off if you stormed in just like he did. 

For a moment, though, you hesitate. Because you were supposed to have the place to yourself and that meant bare face, low maintenance head, and nightgown on at 3pm. 

But he sounded mad and all you heard were his footsteps and door closing. This isn’t the time to be caught up in appearances. 

So you softly bang on wood before calling his name. “Let me in,” you command. “Now.”

“No.”

Umm, what the fuck? “No?”

“Just gimme a second.”

Lips smushed, you eye the door with such annoyance you try the knob to burst in yourself—

It opens immediately, and you barge in to a sight that makes your tongue loll and your saliva multiply.

Hoseok. Shaking his very wet hair. With nothing on but some very, very wet jeans. 

He gives you a slight look of annoyance while you reach for words, mouth in a line when he asks, “Seriously?” 

Umm. You were checking in on why this man came in hot. And now you’re feeling your own temperature spike through the goddamn roof. Truthfully, the only thing you can think of saying is something born from confusion, “You don’t lock your door?”

A tsk flings out before he sets foot in his bathroom, hanging the towel on a rack before replying, “I never do when it’s just us.” 

“Really?” That makes you feel a little sheepish. Chalk it up to being a severely private person—and a woman—but you always lock your door. “I never knew that.”

“Did you come into my room just to tell me that?”

Oh, you don’t have time for that. All the pent up emotions and stress you’ve felt this week comes pouring down. Couple that with the fact you can’t even fool around with him since he’s still going steady with whoever? You are really deep in the trenches.

“Obviously not, Hoseok,” you sling out his name, catching his attention immediately, “I was just wondering what the fuck was up. I can’t just check on my friend?”

“I told you just give me a second?”

“Okay seriously, what’s with the attitude?”

“Attitude? What’s with the grilling?”

Your mouth snaps shut. “I’m not grilling you—”

“You are.” He flings more wetness from his bangs, and the motion alone makes your core ache. Fuck, he’s not helping your lack of release at all and now he’s raking through his fucking locks your moan is forming so quick you can’t stop—

…Why’s he looking at you like that? 

Shit. Did you… did you do that out loud? 

“What was that?”

Ignore him. You have to ignore him because if you stay you are begging for trouble. And you don’t want trouble for you, nor for him. 

“You know what? Never mind,” you rush out, turning to head out and lock yourself in your room once again. “Forget it. Stay mad or whatever, I don’t care—”

The door closes in front of your nose before you’re spun back, shoved against wood as Hoseok cages you in. 

“Let me go,” you move to shove him off, hands slipping as you palm his slick chest fuck. “You don’t want me in here anyway—”

“Did I fucking say that?”

“No, but I know when I’m not wanted—”

Your roommate presses his pelvis into yours, and your eyes fly wide at the straining bulge in his pants. Fuck, does that hurt him? His pants are soaked. 

“I’m only gonna say this once.” Hoseok grabs your chin to force your eyes to his. “But I always fucking want you so shut the fuck up.”

What—

His lips smash into yours before you groan, your bones smacking against his door and your concerns muffled. 

“I thought— I thought you were seeing someone—”

“Not anymore,” he whooshes out, diving into your neck. “Not after today.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m so sorry,” you moan out, losing yourself in those kisses.

“Don’t be.” 

“You’re mad.”

“Just fucking pissed he took my umbrella.” He shoves his mouth into your column. “Now all my shit is soaked.”

“Lucky me,” you gasp out, grabbing his wet hair and raking down. “I love it.”

You hear him groan deep and raspy, and it scratches your brain just right. “Sorry I came in hot,” you quickly repent. “I’m just so fucking stressed.”

“I can tell.”

“So fix it.”

“What do you want.”

“You.”

And you’re yanked from the wall before being tossed onto a fully made bed. 

Your long gown is hiked up before you even strip your underwear down, but Hoseok slaps your hand away. 

Which can only mean one thing. And you’re rejoicing. 

He slips his pants and underwear off before throwing them into the bathroom, and you yelp at his freezing cold legs before he grins. “Sorry.”

“You are not.”

“I’m not.”

“So fucking cold,” you growl, trying to move away from his skin but end up arching into his chest in the process. 

Which completely destroys any hope you have of avoiding him, because your nipples have now pebbled against your dress, and you know for a fact Hoseok can feel them right through the silken material. 

Your quick suspicion is confirmed with a growl, and the sound that leaves your mouth at the feel of teeth around one slings through all four walls. “Fuck!” 

Shivers. Full body shivers erupt when your roommate buries his face in your chest, the rumbling in his throat searing you through as he inhales before kissing between your breasts. 

…What was that for? 

That wasn’t something you just do during a quick and dirty session. Which is exactly what you expect this to be. Hoseok came in hot after a tragic yet somewhat comical rainy day breakup, and you’re pissed he told you to wait at his door. 

He’s always there and always telling you yes. Hobi never says no to you. 

And you damn well know you would never say no to him, either. 

“Smell so fucking good,” he moans, eyes closed and eyebrows knitted as he sweeps a hot tongue across your chest. “And you’re so warm.” 

“I don’t feel like it.” Your pout makes him laugh, and you blink at how anger is slowly draining out of the atmosphere, and at how you’re just happy to hear his change in demeanor. 

But he still gave you attitude earlier—you will not back down on that—so you need to preserve the last of your pissy mood to give him a good post-breakup vent session. “I know you didn’t throw me on your bed just to use me as a heater and smell me.” 

Fuck. The laughter you hear now is fuller, and his arms immediately tighten around your frame as he collapses onto you. “I didn’t!” 

“Then what did you have in—”

Hobi smushes his lips onto yours, rolling his body against your front and making you gasp like you’ve been blindsided. Which, technically you have, because this is not the way you thought things were gonna go a mere five minutes ago.

“Gonna fix you,” he rasps against your lips. “Remember?”

“Wouldn’t mind fixing you first,” you counter, raking long nails down his bare hip and enjoying his hitched reaction. “I can suck you off?”

“Fuck,” Hoseok shudders out before pinching his brows. “You can’t do that.” 

Huh? “I do that very well actually? Rude.”

“No, no,” he clarifies, subtly moving one of your thighs to the side. “I just meant not now. If you do, I’m not gonna last for shit.”

“Oh.” 

You only get a second before you feel a freezing finger on your underwear, flinching up and watching Hoseok’s eyes slip into the depths of lust and concentration. When he slides the material to the side, your breath stops. “But this right here, I can do all day.” 

Breathing out his name, you have to close your eyes with how good it feels to have him touch you with such softness and precision. It’s like he’s done this a thousand times when it’s only been more like five, and you rock against his fingers just like all the other times before. “Feels so fucking good.”

“So do you,” he praises with gravel, reaching up your body to slowly bring your dress down to reveal your breasts like a slow gift unwrapping. “Really, I could touch you all night.”

“Finish my work for me,” you whoosh out, “And you can.”

Chuckling, Hoseok goes from rubbing to inserting his fingers, and you twitch hard while projecting a moan into his ceiling. “That’s it, baby,” he coaxes. “Yell for me.”

Fuck. How the hell are you already so close? “Hobi, I’m—”

“I feel it. Come on, baby.”

How is this happening? He’s going faster and faster and you’re already wet enough to let him and it’s building so fast in your core that it’s shocking. A whine propels from your throat as you keep exhaling hard, and when the pleasure becomes too much to bear you release in the most sinful way—

Oh, shit shit shit, you really—

“Fuck.”

Liquid spews from your cunt and onto his chest, drenching your roommate even more than the rain outside and dripping down his abdomen. Both of you groan at the sight, and you can’t believe you just squirted right onto him with minimal effort on his part how the—

“What the fuck, come here.”

You’re dragged forward and hitched up on his legs, and Hoseok leans over to yank his nightstand drawer out for protection, his necklace brushing cold against your chest. 

Drunk on lust and indescribable pleasure and a wave of strange intimacy, you reach up to suck one of his nipples, laughing into his skin when he visibly twitches and collapses. 

The sound he makes causes your cunt to squeeze, and you hold him with your claws while swirling your tongue all around his chest. When you move to the other side, you give it just as much effort, squirming under his pelvis and rocking against him when you feel his cock. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “Lemme put this on.”

“No,” you simply reject, reaching down to stroke him and giggling at his loud moan. “Not yet.” 

“You first,” he strains out, veins in his neck protruding so hard they could pop. “Then me.”

“You really about to come?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t,” you offer, the most simple yet complicated and difficult task. “Or else I’ll have to clean it up.”

“Shut up, please.” 

You kick your head back in a laugh, loving how he’s so puddy in your hands. “Fine, fine. Ready?”

“Hold on.. Just..” Shaking, he slips the condom on before leaning down, flipping you up so you’re on top wait what? “Ready.”

Leering down, you cannot believe he just did that. “You lazy piece of…”

Hoseok rests his head on his palms, smirk so cutting and dazzling. “Bounce for me if you’re so mad.”

Oh, you plan on it. “Gonna snap you in two, bitch.” 

Damn that stupid laugh. “Please do.”

Mm. You get up and sink down, groaning when he does and start to slowly rise and fall, letting your legs warm up and feeling the burn in your thighs. But the feeling of having him inside overrides any pain, so you gladly sink onto him again and again. 

The little curses and raspy praise are enough to keep you going, too. “So fucking hot.”

“Am I?” You pout, mewling when Hoseok reaches to smooth a thumb over a nipple. “I didn’t even do much today.”

It’s true. Pretty much no makeup other than some spray and sunscreen. You planned to stay home forever today, and your roommate was supposed to be gone.

“Doesn’t matter.” He touches you again before sliding slim fingers up to your chin, gripping and holding it high. “Still a killer.”

You suppress a smile before dipping your head against him just a tad. “Thank you,” you strain out, because somehow a genuine word of gratitude is hard. 

And because you start to swirl around, huffing and feeling the heat in your legs build higher and higher. When Hoseok groans low, he grips your hips, starting to match your pace but lifting up instead. The slow, sensual movements loll you forward because holy fuck you feel full, and your moans start to pitch up the more your core starts to wind. 

“There you go,” he goads, kicking his head back and gritting those beautiful teeth. “I feel it, baby.”

“Feel you, too,” you gasp out. “But I—My legs—”

Hoseok’s response is immediate. Without prompt, he flips you around, slamming you into the bed and thrusting up to stay there and torture you. “About fuckin’ time.”

“Huh?”

“Was waiting for my turn.” His mouth curves devilishly when you start to squirm, breathing hard because holy shit this feels way too good when he just stays still like that how is this alone affecting you so bad?

“Hobi, I’m actually—”

“Nope.”

Rocked and rocked again, you yelp high, realizing too late that your roommate is giving you all the business shit shit shit his pace is manic and his thrusts are so deep. “Fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

He does not stop. Every second is counting and you’re losing track of time. This man is hitting every spot just right, gripping onto your hips and going to fucking town. Your body has gone completely limp at some point, and you don’t remember when you’ve surrendered your head to his pillow—or are you even right side up anymore? 

You crumple against his headboard and your legs flop over his shoulders but you don’t care. You are blissed out. Completely gone. Nothing exists except for him and whatever the hell he’s putting you through—the mattress, the floor, the poor neighbor’s wall right next to you, all the above. 

“So fucking tight, fuck.”

Fuck, you feel it. You know you’re about to lose it and there’s almost no time to warn him. “Hobi, I’m—”

“Shit, I’m gonna—” 

He collapses onto you, and you welcome him with arms slinging around his neck as he comes hard, groaning low and stuttering in his movements while you come just as hard, both of you straining and sweaty and slick from completely going at each other. 

That release is exactly what you needed. Even through the breaths you inhale and exhale, beautifully crushed under your roommate's body weight, you're already settling into a state of zen. The stress starts to ebb, leaving you floating through a calmer, more relaxed state.

With even more things to think about.

“You still mad?”

Breathily chuckling at Hobi's straightforwardness, you gasp out, “Not anymore. You?”

Realizing what's happening, he lifts up, teeth gritting as he plops onto his mattress next to you. “No.”

“Good.”

He stares at your eyes before sliding down to your lips, then back up again for another hold. And it's the most confusing mix of things in your chest because you know for a fact he hasn't done that. Ever. Not with you, at least. Not like this.

You're the safety net, though. You both are for each other. So that's how you decide to define this scenario when you slip into a smile you hope's convincing, "Hell of a rebound this time, huh."

Hoseok blinks before he grins. And it shoots you straight through the heart. "Yeah... We're fuckin' good at this."

Your laugh is short but your matching grin is genuine. "The best to ever do it."

"Damn right."  

—

—

True freedom comes a few days later.  

On Monday, you’re finally done with work, which completely flips the feel of a normally dreaded day around. 

And what makes this particular Monday even better? 

There’s a showcase tonight. And you are completely free to go. 

—

—

You’ll always love the energy in these warehouses. Honestly, you’ve been away for so long that you feel quite attached as soon as you walk in with random people onto the wide, bustling floor. 

From the conversations you hear springing around you, to the music booming from the DJ booth, to the shouting and cheering of different rappers trying to make their mark on the scene, you truly bask in it all. It’s a wonder you mostly come to these alone, considering how often you show up. 

Tonight, however, someone seems to keep talking to you and standing beside you for a good portion of the first two battles. And you really don’t need nor want their attention. 

So you start making your way to the side of the crowd nearest to where the contestants enter the stage. By some stroke of luck, if Yoongi is here, you can hopefully use him as a get-out-of-stranger-interaction card because all these weeks of work has your social battery completely drained. 

Like you can’t even muster the energy to tell them you really aren’t interested. And you don’t really see anyone else you know so it would be awkward to just dip. 

Thank god. 

Yoongi is here.

When you peek from the crowd, you’re a few rows away, so you have to get his attention somehow. Do you shout his name? Do you wave? Do you just stare lasers at him and hope he—

Oh. He’s looking at you. 

How did he pick you out of the crowd so quick?

Suddenly, everyone else in the room melts away as your eyes find each other. Colors blur as you watch him pause on the stage stairs, sounds mute as he looks genuinely shocked to see you here. 

You’re so thrown that you can’t even gesture to him that you’re being held hostage by a nice but annoying stranger. All you can focus on is how visceral your reaction is.

Because your breath is stolen and your whole body locks into place. 

That last kiss you shared is all you can think about. That one, singular moment before Yoongi let you walk out of his room. 

It was not normal. 

It was not normal in the slightest. 

But that’s just how you feel. For him? It could’ve just been another kiss and he could compare it to the thousands of lip locks he’s had. Why should you hold so much stock in it if he hasn't this whole time? Play it cool. Relax.

The moment passes, and he’s getting on stage to thunderous shouting and cheers. Like always, he doesn’t look at the crowd nor show much emotion, but you know there’s a storm brewing under that jacket just waiting to be unleashed.

You’re proven correct for two straight rounds. 

It was a good match, though you have a feeling Yoongi held back a bit or wasn’t at a hundred percent. His delivery was rough in the right ways and just incredible on the ears, but you could tell something was missing. His fire wasn't as bright as before.

But everyone has their days. And he fucking won despite his dip in performance, which goes to show just how hard he works for this shit.

So you start leaving, eyes closed in quiet rage that this same person is still walking next to you. Do they think they have a legitimate chance? Awareness level zero.

You let them down easy and sigh in relief when they take the hint. But now you're left alone again with a long ass walk to your car. Great. Here you go.

Three steps towards the exit, you feel a vibration in your purse. Fishing out your phone, you see it's a number you haven't saved.

And your heart thrums into your shoes when you pick up, because you don't even have to answer when you hear one word.

“Wait.”

—

—

tbc :))

-

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D | feedback box

a/n: and all roads lead to jung hoseok yet again lmfaooooo. but hey, if there's ever a time to be greedy.. it's here LOL. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated. no one is ready for pt. 4 not even meeee :)))

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! since there's no battle rappers showcased in this episode/chapter, let's just link to 2.0 by bts shall we lololol

++ feedback box: 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! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist 

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far? 

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy? 

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand. 

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs. 

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table. 

This man, though... 

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams? 

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.” 

Fuck. 

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question, 

“Do you remember yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” 

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea. 

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone. 

He still remembers it, too. 

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room. 

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not? 

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.” 

Your eyes blink thrice. 

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know? 

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.” 

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair. 

“So tell me.” 

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—” 

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?” 

Damn it. 

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales. 

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch. 

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.” 

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice? 

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..” 

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question. 

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over. 

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.” 

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.” 

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in. 

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave— 

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.” 

Oh, shit. 

Oh, shit. 

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?” 

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space. 

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm. 

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?” 

It takes you a second to process. 

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior. 

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close? 

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were. 

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?” 

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal. 

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying, 

“You really wanna know?” 

Looking up, you nod. 

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.” 

“His.. What?” 

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this? 

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.” 

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to… 

How naive. 

“His plan could’ve been solid.” 

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone. 

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.” 

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself. 

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter. 

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.” 

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?” 

“Someone he royally pissed off.” 

“Mm.” 

“You’re not gonna punish him?” 

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.” 

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore. 

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

Great. 

So much for being… Safe up… here… 

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again. 

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave? 

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.” 

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed. 

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders, 

“Can’t believe you used me.” 

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.” 

Fucking hell, he’s right. 

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.” 

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.” 

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared. 

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall. 

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.” 

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.” 

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not. 

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back. 

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe. 

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time. 

“Tell me more. About grey zones.” 

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?” 

“Yes.” 

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react. 

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets. 

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh. 

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely— 

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth. 

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs, 

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.” 

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.” 

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.” 

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.  

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly. 

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing. 

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans. 

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze. 

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.” 

“Why only in certain ones?” 

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.” 

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.” 

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain. 

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.” 

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.” 

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.” 

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place. 

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you. 

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along. 

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things. 

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle. 

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis. 

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment. 

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.” 

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.” 

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.” 

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer. 

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him, 

“But it’s helping.” 

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold. 

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.” 

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.” 

“I might.” 

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.” 

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?” 

Yoongi turns to look at your lips. 

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say. 

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this. 

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.” 

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.” 

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.” 

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing. 

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?” 

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance. 

“You tell me.” 

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating.