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taegularities · 3 months ago

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you're okay | myg (m)

Summary: Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: s2l/est. rel.; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: this one's heavy :') pov switches, switching between past and present, reference to the d-day documentary, mental health issues, therapy, depression and anxiety, mentioned unaliving attempt, mentions of fainting, slight mention of SA, implied panic attack, lots of trauma, lots of sadness, healing journey/healing with yoongi, feelings of loneliness, feeling unworthy, oc is very unsure and thinks she's a burden, tears and crying; explicit sexual content: (brief) protected sex, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, kissing/making out. please heed the warnings <3 ➳ word count: 11.5k ➳ a/n: hi hi. not the average taegularities fic, i think. once again, please do note the warnings before reading. it's okay if it's too heavy and you need breaks – take care of yourself. it's a very very personal piece that i just needed to get out of my system. yoongi's snooze inspired it; i still cry when i listen to it – i'm thankful it saved me in so many ways, and i hope you feel the same way about this fic. i love you all; here's to healing and living 💕 ➳ listen to: snooze by agust d ft. ryuichi sakamoto & woosung 🤍

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

The weather changes at warp speed these days.

When you left just this morning, it was raining buckets. The shower barely allowed a glimpse at the sky, grey as smoke; ominous clouds were bursting, fast cars and busy passengers on the sidewalk rushing through the world.

You were one of them, not necessarily impressed by the downpour. But you smiled when someone halted, stretching an arm to force the doors of the bus open until you were inside.

The tender gesture lit up your gloomy morning, a proof of how the world isn’t all misery and ruin. For a couple minutes and hours, that stranger’s smile lifted the weight off your leather jacket clad shoulders. You were burdened by nothing but the bag hanging on your side.

But now, the same jacket is draped over your arm and feels much heavier than before; stripped off when the sun broke through the clouds around the afternoon. The additional weight gives you grief; you’re relieved when you hang it onto a rack, step out of your shoes and drag yourself to the bathroom.

God, all actions seem so passive these days.

Passive and automatic, just half-conscious. You’re fatigued and lost in your head. Frankly, you need your bed. You hate that you still need to shower. You wish you could skip that part and still keep your body healthy and clean.

And as you stand under the water, shifting your balance to the right leg and back, you realise that another work day is over and another one is coming. Interactions, productivity, the craving your bed. You need the weightlessness.

So much so that you soon feel the knot in your chest, intensifying, and the heat of the water combines with an uncomfortable breathlessness until your knees bend a little. Immediately, you plant your palms against the bathroom tiles, taking a seat on the shower floor.

You cross your legs; the thought of your father is immediate because he always taught you to take a seat wherever once you start feeling dizzy. Since that one adolescence day when you passed out and hurt your chin, you have followed this advice and prevented worse.

Your head spins for a moment, your chest tight; and you hear a dull thump. There’s an odd rustle in your ears, mixed with the sound of the dripping water; so you don’t notice the call of your name right away.

Keeping your answer absent for another moment, you only wrap your arms around your chest, just to keep yourself whole. You feel like your body might fracture into a dozen pieces.

The shampoo bottle that presumably caused the thump before rolls against you, and you gasp in uncomfortable surprise; immediately hear another slurred, “Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

It's him; he’s always worried. Maybe that’s what you’ve been struggling with so much lately. The fact that you never suffer alone whenever the weight on your shoulder and brain drags you down too far.

A worried voice chimes again, breaking the sound of the shower jet, and you suddenly become hyper aware of his concern, rushing to finally get out. You exclaim a reassuring, “All good!” before the silence can prolong or betray you.

His calls stop, probably relieved when you add another, “Coming.”

You envelop your body in your towel; just a moment later, he knocks. You would’ve opened even if he hadn't.

Yoongi stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and breathes in the sauna-esque air. His mouth turns into a surprised circle, and he blinks before he blows out a breath and states, “You showered hot today, huh?”

“Mhh,” you hum, “the sun never keeps me from doing so. Feels good.”

He smiles, watches your lotioned hands hydrate your skin, very slowly and very delicately. When you sigh in something he interprets as fatigue, he asks, “Do you need help?”

Four simple words, but they soothe something in your wrinkly, grey brain. The knot of stress loosens just a little, and you sigh deeply, telling him, “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t hesitate to step behind you, picking up the pink, wooden brush lying on the laundry basket next to you to release the knots in your wet hair. For a couple of minutes, you indulge in the massage; and then wallow in the feeling of his hands on your face, taking over to do your skincare.

And then, gentle as he is, he helps you into your clothes. You feel somewhat pathetic, but most of all, thankful — anything to get through the night.

“You all set?” he asks once he’s done, palms on your shoulders. You touch the digits of his left hand, leading them to your lips to kiss them softly before you nod.

You follow him into the living room, detecting the still present sunrays protruding through the spots that the sheer curtains don’t filter. It’s not dark yet, but the light is slowly fading. The star is preparing to drown behind the horizon, dusk in motion.

The pretty hues give you a brief yet strange burst of motivation; often, you fear the night more despite its serene reputation. Too dark, too haunting.

Yoongi has already set the table; he starts to ladle the sundubu-jjigae into your bowl, rice in another smaller dish next to it. You sit; you feel endlessly indebted and silently terrified at once. The food looks amazing, so the taste isn’t the problem.

Your boyfriend is a good cook, and you thank the deities every day for his existence. It was much harder to get by and assemble a meal when you lived alone.

But your expression is still the opposite of what it’s supposed to be, and when he sees it, he asks, “You good? Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Then eat a little, okay? As much as you can.”

You gulp, oblige. You know your body calls for it, so you listen to it, chewing a couple bites, even though it feels impossible to actually swallow. God; you need to stop your chest and stomach from trying to convince you that everything is heavy.

Your clothes, your heart, your thoughts.

You know it isn’t true. It drives you mad when your own brain proves this treacherous, attempting to lie to you like this.

Then again, energy dwindles faster these days. Your body knows; maybe that’s why you feel tired. You need to sleep — maybe that could help you feel a bit more feathery.

But shit, you wish there was a more efficient charger for human beings than sleep, so you could be productive. Your mind won’t let you sleep properly anyway.

“Is it good?” Yoongi asks, interrupting your thoughts. He’s always the first to notice when you’re overexerting yourself, even just at dinner.

“It’s very good,” you respond truthfully, even raising your voice to make yourself sound livelier, “as I’d expect from you.”

“Then I’m glad. Thought I’d make you something good, since you worked longer.”

“Always attentive, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.” His spoon drops in his bowl, and he reaches out, touching your cheek just long enough for your heart to stir. “How was work?”

Hm…

You don’t remember too well. You know you went there at least, and you know you did whatever you had to — but you can’t recall details. So all you say without dousing the atmosphere in negativity is, “As always.”

“Was Nayeon at work today?”

“Nope,” you tell him, sending wordless, good vibes towards your best work buddy. “Still sick. A stomach bug, I think. I really hope she feels better soon.”

“Sana again then?”

“Yeah, spent most of the day with her. She’s always so sweet, though… I should talk to her more often.”

You dig into your rice again, trying it with a bigger bite this time. Then, you shake your head in apology, looking back at Yoongi as you ask, “Ah, I’m sorry, baby… how was work for you?”

“As always,” he echoes, “thought of you a lot.”

“Mhm… obsessed much?” you jest, trying a little beam.

“You know me.”

That’s it. You nod; you understand the weakness of your smile, so you lower your head altogether. He sees; of course he does. Yet, he waits and watches you toy with your food. You know the question is approaching before it lands, “Another low?”

Another low…

You could cry. You could burst into tears immediately if you didn’t feel so… empty. A vacant soul, pieces coloured by nothing but him. Yoongi sparks the magic most of the time, even drilling through the numbness.

“Yeah,” you whisper, not crying yet, but the corners of your mouth drop. “It’s been a while.”

“Months, yes? Which is great, my love.” His voice is so mellow, deep, like an antidote. “You’re doing really well.”

“Yeah.”

You are. Because at one point in your life, you used to feel this way all the time. Ever since you found somebody to rely on, someone who listens, you’ve gotten a bit better. He puts you together as if he’s resolving a dispersed puzzle.

But certain phases at certain times still hit you unexpectedly, like a revved up truck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yoongi offers.

“There’s nothing really to talk about…”

“Okay. Do it if you need to, though, okay? Eat a little more?”

You do. Fuck, you feel so babied sometimes; you wonder if he discerns things like this, too. That he isn’t really taking care of and loving his girlfriend, but rather babysitting a broken child.

You whoosh the thought away with a blink, finishing more than half of your meal before you set the cutlery aside. You down the last bite with cold water, sauntering to the bathroom, and then meet Yoongi on your bed.

He probably already put the food in the fridge and the dishes in the dishwasher; he must’ve operated rapidly to be here already, awaiting you. The laptop is open and its screen bright, and you know without stepping onto the mattress that he’s opened YouTube.

Less for him, more for you.

If he wanted to spend the remaining minutes of the night scrolling through reels, he could easily do so on his phone. But no… this feels more like an invitation. A quick, sweet date before sleep, just to watch a few animal videos that rarely ever fail to make you smile.

As you crawl into him, watching cats protecting newborn babies or dogs jumping their owners affectionately, you do smile. You laugh, even. You feel somewhat at ease here with him, but you know you’ll go back to ground zero in the morning.

When you’ve left and he’s gone to work.

And you hate it. You hate that you’re dependent on him like this… Yoongi calls it finding comfort in somebody you love, and you don’t disagree. But adding to this, you think you’re limiting his options by shackling yourself to him.

By demanding that comfort.

You sigh in his arms, breathing calmer than before, but not enough to sleep. Yet, he asks, “Hey… sweetheart. Are you awake?”

“I am.”

“I’m just thinking… Do you want me to call the therapist tomorrow?”

Shit… why does the ball of guilt keep growing? How does he think of this and you don’t? Have you really sunk this deep again? You’re stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I… I should do it myself,” you mumble.

“I don’t mind.”

“No, I’ll just do it in the morning. I think I should… do things for myself, too, right?”

He pauses. Ponders your words; or at least, that’s what you surmise from the way he breathes and sighs and hums. And you’re proven right when he inquires, “Do you feel like I mind doing things for you?”

Yes. No.

No, you do not think so. But you sure as hell waste his time. Occupy it with this nonsense when he could be happier somewhere else, living his life, making plans for the future and rambling about the job he loves.

But no…

Fucking calling the therapist for you.

You break.

It always happens in the worst moments; you don’t know what it is, how it happens, but you break. Hard. Your motions stop, maybe even your breathing. But then you do sigh, so deeply that it burns, trying to keep your voice from shaking, to keep the tears at bay.

But this time, it doesn’t work. Emotions heightened when Yoongi utters something he’s provided as a reminder over the years, “Don’t hold back.”

So you don’t.

There were days when this lesson was necessary, a gentle nudge to release the weight, and today is one of them. You weep, starting with soft whimpers that grow louder steadily, and you press into his chest until you're suddenly sobbing.

You sniffle with an aching head, holding onto him for dear life, barely noticing when your sobs, once again, morph into absolute wailing.

He embraces you, tighter with each inhale and exhale. You’re so impossibly close to him, garbling something that he doesn’t understand. His voice is pain-struck and trembling when he encourages, “Come again, baby? Talk to me.”

It takes a while; it doesn’t work. And then, he chants, “God, baby. My baby… it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“No!” you cry out, slurring your words, “No… am a burden. Am fucking burdening you…”

This is a clear thought, isn’t it? Even in a moment like this, you think it’s true. And that maybe…

Maybe you should’ve never agreed to the lunch he offered you all those years ago. You would miss everything good in your life, lose the one thing you so cherish, but you’d at least rid him of you.

Those long six years ago, you should have just told him you were fine.

As a student, Yoongi always trod the same path from the second floor down to the entrance of the college, living into a routine — never really noticing much of significance. He’d see other students who’d be eating; talking; rushing to class.

And as a TA, Yoongi was used to another, different journey throughout the building, too; climbing down the same spiral staircase, hurrying through the scary, empty mezzanine, passing the same few rooms on the ground floor.

He’d prepare to go home or to the library after attending his favourite psychology professor’s classes, assisting him to his best abilities. But this was different from all the other familiar routes he’d grown accustomed to.

These Wednesday afternoons did offer something of significance. Someone of significance.

Because every time he reached those rooms on the ground floor, you’d be there.

At first, he reckoned you always waited for your class to start, just at the time when his ended. But you were alone each time. The doors to the classrooms and lecture halls were all closed, and then there was you, a sole soul waiting for whatever miracle to appear.

It took a couple weeks for him to gather that you might not have been supposed to be there. He noticed it when he saw your eyes fixated on a spot, pupils never moving an inch, even when he walked past. At some point, he’d memorised just this expression on your face.

And then, bit by bit, he realised that your stance didn’t seem quite normal. Your eyes were dead, hands never flinching. You emanated a sense of loneliness and stupefaction that he couldn’t express in words.

Today, something in him stirred. Perhaps because he’d just covered social behaviour as a topic or perhaps because any proper human would recognise that something was wrong with you.

Your hands were holding a lidless cup that day, barely steaming anymore. You were blinking slowly, if at all. This time, he approached you with care, as if nearing a wounded deer; as if trying to keep it there and not frighten it away.

But when he leaned into you, a hand scarcely touching your shoulder, your head moved up to look at him slowly but surely. And your first reaction to him ever was a smile.

You remember that when you first looked at him, like really looked at him, his face seemed familiar to you. You were sure you’d seen him before, even if just in passing. He had this long, pretty, dark hair, covering his neck, a couple inches above his shoulders.

A kind face. A calm demeanour.

He stood there with pure relaxation between his eyebrows; one you hadn’t felt in a while despite your falling face. Flawless porcelain skin, free of dark circles, free of exhaustion. When did you last look like this?

You smiled at him instinctively, a curious expression; you couldn’t guess at all what he wanted or needed, but you were ready to listen. You’d always listen to people — listen, listen, listen. Perhaps that was the exact problem.

This very attention towards him, coming this easily, made your shoulders sink in new dejection; everything did. Every thought was intrusive, unwelcome, too stretched for your liking.

Whenever you had a normal thought or a bad one that’d at least pass immediately, you considered it a good day.

But you felt a tension around your temples by now; your head never felt at ease.

Yet, you asked, “Yes?”

And he wondered in return, “Are you okay? You looked distracted and I thought I might ask.”

“Oh… that’s nice,” you commented, your voice a bit too quiet yet surprised; you cleared your throat, spoke up, “but I’m okay. I just sit here sometimes after my classes.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. To take a little break after all the information dump, yeah. I’ll go home soon, though, no worries.”

“Hm… yeah. I just,” Yoongi started, hesitant — you now know he was trying to reveal something without appearing creepy. “I noticed you here a few times, so I wanted to ask just to be sure.”

He saw you here? You? And he came up to talk to you, just because he’d noticed you before? Baffling. You didn’t think you were visible to anybody. You thought you faded in front of others’ eyes.

“You’re honestly so nice,” is all you said, hoping your eyes didn’t reveal too much. How much his words affected you, and how they made you think you were just a little, a tiny bit perceptible.

“Sure,” he responded, nodding. And when you failed to come up with more appreciative words, he prepared to move, bidding you goodbye with a single, “Okay…”

Then, he was walking away; as grateful as you were, your energy-lacking body forced your eyes shut. You drew a deep breath. These few words you’d exchanged with him took everything out of you — that was the worst part of all this.

Interaction drained you. Loneliness drained you. The world and life were all draining, and you couldn’t figure out anymore how to feel… awake. Sober without ever drinking.

When your eyes closed, you felt your surroundings starting to spin. Or maybe, it was you; as if someone had gripped your shoulders and was turning you in circles. There were so many weird particles behind your eyelids.

The rotation was insane, but nothing new. Shut down most of your other senses and people’s voices; like the one that returned a second later, the same as before. Shit. Had he seen you struggle? Was he seeing something nobody else ever would?

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” the stranger with the familiar face asked, concern in his voice. “You don’t look like it.”

What was it? What was it about his gentle, low voice that lured you in? What was it about his attentive tone that made you want to tear up? Maybe because you’d bottled things up for so long.

But you held the liquid locked in your eyes. Proudly, barely.

“I’m…”

You considered lying. You considered pulling a lame excuse out of your ass. But something in you snapped, snapped hard, and the truth spilled just before you could think twice—

“If I’m being honest… I’m feeling pretty faint… I often do? I usually just need to sit down a bit or I’ll pass out.”

You hated using the word usually. As though your condition had become irreparable, like a chronic illness; and you were stating its treatment, only temporary.

“Hmm…” he hummed. “Have you eaten?”

“Not much…”

“Then that might be it,” he concluded, content with the deduction. In hindsight, you think he was hoping it was only that, nothing more. “Do you have something with you?” You shook your head. “Are you getting something?”

You shrugged.

You could’ve easily told the truth and said no; that the appetite was absent, that you were going to go home and hardly remember how you got there. That you’d throw your bag on the couch, take off all your clothes, not really bother for a shower and jump into your bed.

Then, you’d breathe. Survive.

You didn’t have the energy to eat, to shower, and right now, somehow not even to lie. The remainder of it had been used in today’s class and in this conversation.

He knew you couldn’t come up with any bad justification, so he offered, “Listen… I still have this sandwich with me that I was going to eat after class. You can have it if you want.”

What? That was…

“Oh, no,” you blurted, raising a hand to reject, “you should eat if you haven’t yet.”

“Look, I totally get being selfless, but you don’t look good and…” He sighed, tilting his head. Eyebrows raised and expression suddenly stricter. “If I can help anyhow, I’d rather have that than anyone else finding you unconscious here later. Please?”

How could you’ve resisted such a plea?

He was taking care of you and he didn’t even know you. And your body understood; your body heard him. Because your stomach grumbled at the mention of the meal; it didn’t mean anything to you, but it meant something to your hungry, craving body.

It often did that. Wishing to eat; then, not letting you swallow a bite.

You grabbed your bag and warily, carefully got to your feet. The man lifted a hand in caution, as if expecting for you to lose your balance. You did, just a little, swaying until you’d grounded yourself.

Goddamn it.

You nodded with a deep exhale and followed him as he suggested, “Let’s go to the courtyard. Get some fresh air. We can eat there and talk… or not talk if that's what you want.”

You kept moving your head up and down, fine with whatever. The fronts of it hurt due to the lack of nutrition; it was past four pm and you’d only eaten a damn banana.

He found you a shadowy spot away from the sun; it was late spring, the summer steadily approaching. The shade protected your tired eyes, guarded you from further headaches.

As you plumped onto the grass next to him, your fingers grazed it for a moment — and it felt good against your skin. A pleasant combination, the wind and the scent of grass; nearly freed your chest of the stuffy pain.

You watched his soft fingers fish out the sandwich, and then some salted peanuts for himself. Urged you to eat before spilling a handful of the nuts into his palm. God, you felt horribly guilty, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to convince him to share the meal.

He… didn’t even seem to mind a bit.

Wiping his hand on his pants, he finally introduced, “I’m Min Yoongi. Psychology student and TA. Judging from your spot every single Wednesday afternoon, you take psychology classes, too?”

“I do… yeah.”

You took a bite enough for mouses, but then proceeded with a larger, human-appropriate one. Your stomach felt odd; Min Yoongi’s small talk helped you eat, but the nervous feeling in your chest that never really went away weighed heavily on your tummy.

You added, “Thinking of dropping it, though…”

“Why?”

“Because I might be failing anyway. Haven’t done much, and I still have a presentation on my paper left but have prepared nothing for it yet, either.”

“Have you asked the professor about a potential extension?”

Of course you’d thought about it. You always did. Which is why you despised having to answer, “No…”

No. Of course not. To most professors, mental health didn’t matter as an excuse.

You understood, though. They graded every paper they received, surrendering their free time, their summer and their winter breaks. To grant you special treatment was something you regarded as unnecessary; you didn’t think you were worth it.

“Do you feel like you could do better next term?” Yoongi asked.

“I don’t know.”

Your sandwich was done and gone. You were still hungry; you felt the appetite all of a sudden. You knew it often came and went in waves, but somehow, the sandwich left you more pining than anything these days.

Yoongi saw as you licked your fingers clean of the mayonnaise; offered you some peanuts that you politely declined, greedy for something proper. Maybe you’d eat an actual dinner tonight.

After a while, Yoongi spoke, “Okay, I know I’m a stranger to you and everything, but if you want, I could try to help you.”

Shit, but… that would’ve meant putting in the effort. To get up, to meet him, to focus and to study. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do all that. You didn’t know how to—

But his eyes were so sincere; a pure dark brown, sparkling in hope, for whatever noble reason. And you thought… you thought…

If there was any chance to pass this class and get over with it, wouldn’t you feel a gigantic wave of relief wash over you? After so damn long? Wouldn’t it be worth it? Maybe a spark of hope ignited in your chest after all… maybe you could turn things around.

“Yeah…” you finally obliged. “Yeah, that’s really nice.”

“Great. Are you free this Friday afternoon?”

After that, it became part of your routine to meet up with Yoongi every Thursday or Friday, depending on his own schedule. A couple weeks passed like a breeze; or at least, compared to the days you were used to.

Some time later, those meetings increased, and you found a profound liking in them. You still often struggled with leaving your apartment at all, sometimes deeming getting out of bed or brushing your teeth an impossible task.

But whenever Yoongi called, offering a nearby café — always a nearby café — you’d place all your energy into moving, throwing on clothes, leaving. You felt unworried with him; at least for a couple hours.

He wasn’t just smart to an admirable degree; he was humorous, too. Motivating. Praised you for your ideas and your sharp mind. You’d forgotten you still had it in you — you thought time had altered your brain chemistry, killed too many of its cells to still let your mind operate.

Today, he didn’t suggest a café but a place you hadn't been to before. Yoongi had never invited you anywhere that wasn’t a public space, careful with your feelings without ever mentioning the obvious issues you had.

He only really crawled out of his shell and gave you the address to this new spot once you’d invited him over, too — he couldn’t make it, helping out the professor he assisted. But you reckon it was telling enough for him to understand how comfortable you’d grown with him.

So you went where he told you to go, and once you arrived, you recognised it as an office. A small one, but elegantly decorated, furniture sparse. And it wasn’t just any office. A therapist’s office.

“This is my mom’s,” Yoongi explained as you inspected the books on the shelf and the overall soothing and fitting atmosphere, “she’s out of town, so I thought we could study here today.

“Oh…”

He had to have heard your hesitancy, your uncertainty. This is the place they usually suggest in guidance books and in conversation to people like you. You didn’t know how to feel; the emotions washing over you were an odd sensation. Not good, not bad.

But scary, somehow.

Yoongi put a soft hand on your shoulder, making you turn, and asked, “Is that okay for you?”

“Yeah… it’s just… I’ve only really thought and read about therapy, but never quite seen an actual room like this.” You shook your head, clicking your tongue. “It’s crazy. How have I never been in one despite studying psychology for so long?”

“Hmm, many students haven’t been.”

“Yeah.”

You stripped your bag off of you, taking a seat on the cosy patient’s couch. Pulled out your laptop and placed it on the table between you and where he seated himself on the therapist’s chair.

Swallowing a strange lump, you cleared your throat, starting the study session with, “Okay, so… I was thinking about what you said about the research question last time.”

“Right…”

At this point, you couldn’t really fathom why, but he seemed reserved today, a little distracted. Still providing as much information and intellect as he could; but his thoughts were slower and his eyes gentler.

You think you studied barely forty-five minutes when Yoongi called for a break — unusual, because it was mostly you to announce a pause in thoughts, when your brain would demand a couple minutes of peace.

He sighed, hands touching his thighs and then got up to bring you something to drink. Came back with two cups of tea. You thought he’d be returning with a glass of water, but upon seeing the beverage, your eyes widened; you told him, “This is super nice of you, thanks.”

“Of course.” Pause. You slurped; then he did. A second later, he inquired, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

You waited. Nothing came. You took another sip of the fruity winter tea in the middle of summer, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat under your nose that the heat caused. Then you looked up, big eyes staring into his just in time to see his mouth open.

“You always seem so surprised when I’m nice to you.”

Ah…

He’d said he’d had a question, but the indication of an inquiry, the one lifting in tone at the end never came. His statement was his question. And you thought it wasn’t the first time you heard it; you just never noticed you were doing it again.

Yoongi left the conclusion there, and the question mark hung somewhere between the two of you. Unspoken, containing a silent, ”Why?”

So you answered, “I just… uhm. People don’t just do something like this for me without me asking. It’s new to me how attentive you are.”

Sad. Just sad. You hated having to actually echo your innermost thoughts; you knew this wasn’t normal.

He knew, too, because he said, “This… is not how things should be.”

“But this is how they ended up being. I mean it’s just tea. But I don’t think anybody else sees me sitting there and goes like, Okay, I’ll do this lil something for her, you know?”

“Which is insane. You deserve it all so much. More than anyone I know.”

If you’d still been drinking, you would’ve choked. Those words were rare, not often uttered to you; how were you supposed to respond to them? You’d long forgotten how to react to things at all — it didn’t come too naturally to you anymore.

So all you did was laugh a little, as if replying to a joke. Genuinely, you wondered, “How can you say something like that?”

“Why not?”

“I mean, you probably know so many people.”

Yoongi blinked at you, as if waiting for your argument to proceed; but when it didn’t, he lifted a shoulder, steadfast with his opinion as he answered, “So? What do you think? That you feeling that way about yourself makes everyone else feel that way about you, too?”

You shrugged your shoulders just an inch, imitating his motions. Your gaze fell, as though catching yourself spewing pure gibberish. He continued, “You have a pure heart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you being mean. And you’re strong, careful, and endure a shit ton.”

You looked up at him instantly. Let the last words reverberate in your mind, pushing them to the forefront between all your other messy thoughts. “Of course you knew,” you said.

“Of course. You’re so obviously hurt and I hate that you are.”

Well, you hated it, too. But…

Your desperation came out in a whisper, “I don’t know what to do about it…”

You put the cup back onto the saucer; your fingers were warm when you pushed them into your hair, pressing your palms against your forehead, holding onto your mane. Elbows on your thighs. The world spun again until you felt his hand on your arm once more.

“Hey.” He sounded softer again. “Do you want to take a longer break? We could stop for today and talk?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to. But it feels to me like you’ve never done that before… people don’t want to listen.” His words hit you like bricks. Like heavy cement bricks. The pain was excruciating. “Is that it?”

You were still staring at your lap when he posed the question; your head whirred, so you didn’t know where to start. Which is why you held onto the first complaint — you knew they were valid worries, but you always called them complaints, like you were a burden — and said,

“I just… I listen to everyone. I let people vent, I let them feel hurt, and I try to be there and lend a shoulder and just,” the words cascaded out of you like a wild waterfall; your throat clogged up again, “to be a good person and a good friend.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the pressure back in your chest. “But why do I not get any of it back? Why is it that everyone goes silent when I’m hurting? Do I deserve this somehow?”

You felt tears pricking and burning in your waterline, and you blinked them away. Took another quick sip just to help your dry throat. Then, “I hate that I sound selfish? Like I only do things for people to get love back, but… that’s not it. I just want to feel worthy of something, too.”

“You don’t sound selfish. It’s never wrong or inhumane to demand affection and care, and if it is, then… every person’s selfish. Whatever.”

Up until that point, you hadn’t known that someone could be this tender and direct at once. Yoongi lived in a reality that wasn’t sugarcoated, but he understood empathy and heartbreak, knew to dip his words in an ointment alleviating enough.

You wondered what he’d endured to become this type of person; sympathy and a mind this sage often stem from grief once encountered, and you so hoped he was an exception to this belief of yours.

You looked at him with delicate fondness, mixed with some lasting trouble. He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t know what came over you when you leaned into his palm, kept his gaze, and stayed in place when he moved in.

Kissed you.

And you didn’t know why, but the moment opened your heart as if it’d been locked before; he was the key, undoing the lock so easily. That was when the first tear rolled down your cheek, meeting his skin, and you started trembling as he moved his mouth against yours.

You couldn’t grasp why he was doing it; even if parts of you knew. Did he not care that you were broken? That you were still breaking? That the ache always consumed you, that you felt whatever your brain inflicted on you throughout your entire body?

Maybe not. He always said you were funny, sweet, never humorous at anybody’s expense.

It was different from the things you’d heard before.

Nobody will love you like this.

Stop acting like you’re traumatised.

I didn’t love you — I kept you because you were attractive. Because you let me.

You had always asked yourself: why had your feelings always been shoved aside when you voiced your opinion? Whenever it differed from the one in your family or your friend’s circle?

Why were you told to never open up about your childhood memories? When you were caged in; when somebody three times your age indulged in impudence when they shouldn’t have, long ago when you were a child; when you fell in love at a later age and were forced to let go?

Why were you told you were tainted, that you couldn’t get any affection like this, to keep your pain to yourself and forget about your past? And why was this sequence of nightmares plaguing you right now, like you were dying, just when he was kissing you…

Because you were scared. So scared.

If you told Yoongi any of this, would he bolt? Would you hurt yet another person? Would he see you as a shattered porcelain doll, distance himself from you? Because honestly, why would he stay at all; with someone who hasn’t healed, who’d pulled him underwater, too?

Yet, you didn’t say any of this. You sighed; leaned into him. Took residency in his heart, cried into him.

He kissed you for another second, and then backed away. Wiped your tears. You broke and broke until your voice broke, too, giving way to quiet sobs.

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

And somehow, the realisation hurt anew, deep in your core and beyond.

Your tears had mostly dried when he resumed his position, sitting in front of you. His fingers were entangled and he waited.

Yoongi knew you’d cry again, though. The patient’s couch had some magic to it, his mother always said. They’d always cry, but they’d heal at the same time. Recognise hidden parts of themselves.

He was uncomplaining and composed, and kept looking at you until you said, “It just feels… like I’ll never be enough. I can do as much as possible, but none of it is ever seen because I’m taken for granted.”

“Who takes you for granted?”

“Everyone. I’ve spent many nights awake for people, and they abandoned me. In a crowd, others will always be praised for one thing and I’ll be ignored for the same. It’s made me bitter.”

He nodded in true therapist fashion, but his expression wasn’t as neutral as one; he looked pain-struck for you. Said, “You’ve been hurt… I see that…”

“I’m… hurting,” you corrected, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Yoongi attempted a different approach; you were in a hopeless spiral, and the strategy he needed to try wasn’t just to dig out your trauma, but to make you familiar with the good parts of your life, too.

So he asked, sincerely hoping you had an answer to his question, “Who could you trust as you grew up?”

“I don’t know…” Yoongi’s chest deflated, motivation dropping — that is, until you muttered, “My brother.”

“Parents?”

“Part of the problem.”

Okay; your answers came more rapidly now. He took it as a good sign; as readiness to talk.

“Where’s your brother?” he wondered.

“In this town,” you answered, and Yoongi sighed in relief. “But I can’t bother him with all of my shit.”

Your symptoms were as typical as they could be; you regarded your self-worth as buried deep under the ground, never wanting to disturb those who still deemed you close and loved. You’d established this distance between you and the others; he didn’t blame you.

The symptoms were typical.

“Why do you think so?” Yoongi prodded, whispering your name when you didn’t answer.

“I’ve bothered them all enough…”

“How so?”

Maybe he was doing too much. But it seemed you were on board with it; you weren’t complaining, not sighing, not withdrawing. You were listening and talking. Nobody let you talk, and now that you were, you looked like you needed to let it out.

You spat, “Because they never seemed to want to hear anything.”

God…

It hurt to see you like this. Damp eyes, a heavily rising chest, as if you were close to panicking again, but desperately holding back. He knew it; he saw it in the way you drew your breaths and in the things you said.

He knew you’d braved multiple nights and many, many sleepless hours before, spending these dark moments clutching your chest, trying to get rid of the unbearably tight feeling in your chest.

He knew that torturous pressure. He’d been there before. The persistent feeling of fear and unease — like somebody had dropped a weight onto his ribcage and tied up his stomach. The shallow breathing and thumping heart would strip him off focus.

Thoughts circling and circling, around each other; absolute bullshit most of the time.

He couldn’t imagine how overwhelmed you felt, but then again, he could. Was the world louder to you, too? The way it used to be for him. Did you hear that constant screaming in your head?

Vulnerable, senses heightened, sensitive to the slightest change.

He hated the thought of a wall between you and your peace. Hated hearing the words you narrated; of your home, of your childhood, of the people you met. The disrespect you suffered and the dirt you were treated as.

You deserved none of it.

Maybe he felt that way because nobody ever deserved it; or maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you. Not because he needed to save you, or because he felt like falling for someone who he’d have to fix could be a welcoming challenge.

He knew people who treated depression like this; saviour complex in full effect, they needed to be the hero or heroine to stitch a broken heart.

No — he fell for you because you were you. Despite everything and every pain you endured, you were still you; and most of the you that you were before you got hurt this badly was still there, under the surface.

He saw those joyful parts of you reemerge sometimes, breaking through the waves. Sometimes, right before your head would fall again; your body weightless; drowning — he saw those parts on those days for a split moment.

But not right now.

In fact, the true parts of you that knew to feel happiness were absent now, and he knew — in that sense, he was prepared for you to utter what you said next. Was ready to hear it, no matter how little he actually wanted to hear it.

“And sometimes, when it got too much…” You gulped. Yoongi knew what you’d say; he knew. But— “I didn’t feel like being here anymore. It seems that was the only and last time I opened my family’s eyes.”

But when you still said it, it stabbed his heart like a dagger.

“Only, after that… it soon became irrelevant again,” you continued, “they told me I should be thankful for being alive and regret the mistake I made… what I tried.”

And you spoke on. Spoke on and on. He leaned back, allowing himself a better position to breathe. His heart felt like a sewing pin cushion, riddled with tiny holes. His eyebrows furrowed in agony, but he saw worse pain in your eyes.

Tears slowly reappeared.

“And when I was judged for this, too… I realised I didn’t regret ever trying to leave the world. I regretted that I’d failed to do so.”

Maybe he felt that way because nobody deserved it; maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you.

But your words split him in a million tiny shards, like glass, until his pieces became tiny enough to resemble dust.

”Am a burden… Am fucking burdening you…”

Yoongi’s voice defeats the others in your head just barely; as if you’re separated by a glass wall and hearing him from afar, only clearing when you hammer through it and break the surface. He’s quiet compared to your cries, a hand firmly on your back.

His grip around you wants to glue you together so desperately; he’s not letting go, even though you get restless soon, quivering and ruining his shirt.

“Hey, baby…” you hear him say, but you interrupt, obstinately shaking your head.

“No… I’m— I never should’ve let you this close and—”

“No.” It’s his turn to interject. And he does it with determination; tone suddenly so low, cold, so you silence. “Stop.”

You do, only now noticing that he’s imprisoning your wrists in his grasp. Not painfully, but still solidly enough for you to understand what he means. You confirm it for yourself when you look up.

You already know your eyes are bloodshot, cheeks thoroughly wet; but you still recognise the heavy breaths he draws. See something entirely different in his eyes than yours.

Pain.

You hurt him. And this time, you could once again lament your destructive behaviour, argue how you keep inflicting these shit ass feelings on him. But…

The ache in his expressions says something else entirely. Fills you with hope, fills you with guilt.

Shows you that he despises the thought of you possibly regretting this relationship. His gaze proves that he doesn’t. That if he could go back in time and meet you again, talk to you again, fall in love with you again — he would.

You know it because he’s said it before. You know.

But your brain is half melting, hurting, spitting all negative assumptions at you like nobody’s business.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you stammer, pierced by the sorrow in his eyes.

“What?”

“I… shouldn’t have said that,” you start, gulping. Your crying ebbs down for a second as you register the growing agony in his heart, and you explain, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I can’t stop thinking that…”

Break in conversation.

Then him again, “…That?”

“That you’d be better off without me. That you’re here so I stay alive and that you’d be less burdened with someone else…”

Another pause.

He stares at you, as if pondering his answer. Bites into his lower lip softly and releases it right away. Blinks, looks to your wrists, lets go of them and then whispers, “Do you want to know? What I’m thinking, do you want to know that, too?”

“…What are you thinking?”

“That it’s true that I’m burdened.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

The pain is searing, a burning arrow shooting through your heart. It’s what you expected and what you feared and what still hurts so much upon hearing and—

Are you crying again? Are you tearing up? You don’t know.

You’re not sure, but it does seem like you’re breaking once more when he shushes you carefully, touching your cheek. He calms you, and then speaks again—

“Of course I’m burdened, too. Yeah, of course. I’d be lying if I said seeing you like this doesn’t make me feel helpless… but do you know what it means that I’m still here?”

Your voice trembles when you speak, “Because you’re scared of leaving me in this condition.”

“No. I learned early enough to prioritise myself when I need to. No, I’m not leaving because I don’t want to — simple. Because I’ll share your, mine and the world’s damn pain along with my heart. ‘Kay?”

Retrospectively, his words sound logical. He said it’s simple, and in some way, it is. If you didn’t have the brain that you have, it would be. If you weren’t so neck-deep in the quicksand pulling you into doubts, you’d be less surprised at the finality in his tone.

“Baby—” you start, but he squeezes your hand, eyes glistening.

“We have enough enemies in this world. Don’t regard me as one, too. Okay? Please…”

“No, you’re not,” you defend, moving your head and the palm on your cheek along with it, “you’re anything but that.”

He nods, sniffling; you know he’s holding back the same salty, pouring liquid as you. He’s always done that, providing a sense of strength and safety to make you feel just that.

“We’ll be okay one day, love. The world hurts us a shit ton, and life is difficult, but…” His voice cracks here, and he waits to regain control, sighing. “We only get one of it and… it’d be so unfair if we were destined to stay like this, right?”

You don’t believe in divine beliefs that seemingly predetermine how your life plays out. Fate or destiny or whatever synonyms to notions that Jung or Freud believed in. You’ve heard of this stuff plenty in your studies, but it never affected your curiosity much.

You know Yoongi isn’t necessarily a representative of it either; not one to dive too deep into things that suggest the potential absence of a free will.

But the thought provides hope when nothing else does. You know. The fact that you can’t leave this world without fixing things; that you’re here to contribute to much larger and more important things.

You cannot have been born to spend your days here without the joy you deserve.

You’ve felt much of it thanks to Yoongi, but you’ve had too many setbacks to call this a proper life. You don’t want to end it like this. You don’t want to grow old like this.

And you want to gift him the life he deserves, too.

Fuck…

You need to get better. You need to get better. You need to get better.

You need to help yourself. Even if it takes time; even if the non-linear process of healing irks you, stealing hope and leaving anguish in turn. And it’s as if Yoongi reads your mind when he says—

“It’s okay, you know? To feel that way. It takes time. It doesn’t matter how much, but it’s okay to fall back and have ups and downs, as long as you don’t give up. Yes?”

“I can’t, I know… I— I won’t give up. I just… need you to be here.” Your voice is unsteady, and your heart is, too; fickle as can be. But you’d rather hang onto the aspiration right now… nothing else. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? I’ll fix this for us, I will.”

“For yourself first. I’ll be here, no matter what.”

“…I love you.” Your breathing is staggered, leftover pain still keeping the anxiety in your chest. It’ll take a while. But there’s power in your admissions when you repeat, “I love you so much.”

You lean in carefully, and he mimes the movement, bending into your kiss. It’s a peck, soft and gentle and encouraging, and you murmur through your sniffles, “So, so much.”

And then you climb up, using all your strength. Half your body comes to a rest on his; the immediate proximity and warm touch evoke motivation and longing in your heart. For not only him, but every second of a possible serene future, too.

This very hope is often born and reborn at the end of your lowest lows. It’s what pulls you up again, keeps you going each time before the next valley can swallow you. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes not.

But you so desperately want this. Want it to work now.

You want to be okay. Want to travel and soak in the sun. Want to dance in the rain and scream from the peak of a mountain; want to snorkel in clear, blue seas.

The life you picture for yourself, the one you follow in those healing vlogs on social media — it’s what you yearn for. It’s what you want to feel. With him on your side.

Sometime in the future, you see yourself beaming in genuine happiness, see yourself smiling. And you want to work towards it. You’ve always wanted to.

Ever since Yoongi first showed you what love, contentment and merriment felt like, you’ve craved this. Ever since that night he told you he loved you, despite everything.

Despite, despite, despite.

He was there to catch your fall when you couldn’t keep yourself upright anymore. When your knees weakened and the ground turned into clouds, and you plunged through them and towards the cemented earth that’d shatter you.

He aided you in staying whole. Let you lean against his shoulder, nodding off into a slumber there, allowing you to dream because until then, you didn’t dare to.

You thought dreaming was pointless; just a fabrication of the unconscious mind to distract you from the horrors of the world. To keep you occupied, to torture you even when asleep. As time passed, you started making these horrors your life, and the line between reality and fantasy thinned.

Until…

Until he turned those nightmares into daydreams. Blossoming, vibrant colours appeared where you’d perceived greys before. Somehow, you fell apart a lot less when Yoongi spent his time with you, taught you to love again.

You became less terrified by dreams then, because the content changed. And whenever you weren’t dreaming, away from sleep, you experienced the utopia you’d always sought.

The day Yoongi first told you he loved you, you’d long defeated the semester you’d so worried about; started and survived the one after; and were now already tackling your very last one.

Even after all these months, you never let him forget how grateful you were for passing the last summer semester eventually, and in return, he never let you forget that he’d stay even after.

You didn’t study all the time anymore either; now, your afternoons and nights were filled with gentle words, promising embraces, lips against lips. It took some time to truly open up. To stop feeling like you were making a mistake.

“Doing yourself to him,” you called it, as if you were about to hurl him into his very own mistake.

Even then, you wanted to get better for him; you knew it hadn’t and wouldn’t happen overnight. All of it was much easier said than done; healing sounds so doable for those who attempt to support those who need it, yet they cannot grasp the meaning of a broken heart and scared mind.

But there was something so wonderful about the simplicity between Yoongi and you. So simple that it called forth feelings so complex.

They were tough to navigate, but never tough to admit.

That March night, the sentiments roamed your body the clearest, even though the skies were anything but that. The thunder sounded like the universe had cracked; the white and silver of the striking lightning illuminated your room.

It was the night you felt hope in all its glory, for the very first time in years.

“You keep hiding from me,” Yoongi said, legs crossed like yours, sitting vis-a-vis.

He was close enough for your knees to collide, and when they did for the umpteenth time, he put a careful hand on your fingers resting on your thigh. You didn’t protest, so he didn’t withdraw.

“I’m not hiding from you. I just…” you stalled, “I just want you to be sure.”

“About you?”

If it had been this easy, you wouldn’t have asked. Because you knew the answer to this. Yoongi didn’t need to explain it to you; he was already certain about you to an indisputable degree.

You shook your head. Elaborated, “About everything. I don’t just come with the few good times we had the last couple of weeks. I come with… everything I’ve ever experienced and that shaped me into this.” You gestured over yourself. “You’d notice soon.”

“I already do.”

His answers and arguments came promptly, as if he knew the script to this talk and had already thought out every response he’d be giving. This was so effortless to him; thinking about it today, you wouldn’t even have needed to say a word.

But it was important to you. You couldn’t permit him to grow this attached without making sure.

“You just take it, do you? All that I am,” you concluded delicately; wanting to inform him, but so terrified of scaring him away. “But if you fall for me, then you’re committing. And I want you to think about it because I don’t— I don’t want to ruin your life.”

When he spoke again, he seemed to finally deviate from the script he knew; because confused, he asked, “If?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, if I fall for you?”

Oh… oh.

You understood. It didn’t take the tiniest of nanoseconds for you to fathom what he meant. And you could’ve sobbed right there and then, but the storm distracted you a little; the thunder was growling, threatening to explode again.

Somehow, the chaos outside kept you at bay. But only for so long.

“…Yoongi.”

His fingers moved from yours to your entire palm, taking it in his with a whisper of your name. Then, he clarified, “The possibility of something happening is redundant if it’s already happened, you know? And I’m…”

You held your breath, but at the same time, you were nearly panting. Maybe one first, then the other? You can’t remember anymore. You felt dizzy. Teary-eyed and joyful at once when you saw him at a loss of words.

“You’re?” you encouraged.

“I’m just so… feet deep underwater and in love with you that you couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.”

“I—”

“I love you. You know I do.”

Fuck… fuck, you knew.

Of course you knew.

Your heart was vile at times, cooperating with this demon of a brain and feeding you wrong information. But this, you knew. You fought through the congested mess of thoughts and admitted this to yourself every day.

Isn’t this why you were having this conversation in the first place?

But to hear him say it…

I love you.

You know I do.

“Even if you try to deny it,” he continued, “you know I love you and that I’ll keep doing it.”

This is when your waterline gave up; lined with the liquid you’d always held back. But why? There was no reason to. You felt at peace; Yoongi knew your heart. There was no use in keeping you closed off anymore.

So you cried. Let the first tear roll that he caught with his hand, holding your face so firmly that you thought it was the only thing keeping your head upright. Optimistic.

“There’s… there’s a chance that I start doubting you,” you contended for whatever stupid reason, sniffling, “that I doubt myself and then regret pulling you down with me and— there’s a chance I forget that you’ll keep loving me, no matter what, you know—”

“I’ll keep reminding you.”

“I’m a handful.”

“My hands are big enough, baby.”

The endearment didn’t slip past you, but instead made your beating organ swell. You don’t think you’d ever heard your pulse pounding in your eardrums this loudly. And he kept inching closer; his forehead nearly touched yours until it did.

“Can you love me even if I fall, Yoongi?”

“I’ll pick you up. You know that.”

“…What if you feel like you’re not good enough?”

Stop asking questions. Stop stop stop.

But he kept answering.

“Remember what you told me a couple days ago?” Yoongi asked, his voice quiet, drowning in the storm. “That it’d been long since you’d felt happy like this.”

“I do right now… I just…”

“Yeah, and I— I think. If I’m able to stay by your side and make you smile anyhow? Then I think this… we… are good enough.”

That’s it. Your throat was dry, your mind out of questions. You could renounce doubts if he didn’t have any either. He seemed convinced enough; so you admitted your own convictions to him, too.

“I’m… I love you, too. I love you, I fucking do.”

Your last word was cut, merely a breath. Swallowed when you leaned in and kissed him, pulling him back with you onto the bed. Yoongi landed on top of you, draping the two of you under the thin, floral blanket.

The early spring rain tapped your window softly before the gentle noise turned into more aggressive knocking and hammering. This very storm they’d announced was the reason Yoongi had stayed tonight.

That’s what he’d told you at least; in truth, it was an excuse.

Before today, you rarely spent your nights together.

Whenever you did, he allowed you your space in order to not overwhelm you. He knew you were cautious, slow, took your time to trust. He’d sleep on the couch or crawl back to you when you approached him in the dead of the night.

Touching his elbow gently, shaking him awake, telling him so sweetly that it drove him insane, “I don’t want to be alone.”

So he’d cuddle in when you sought out his arms, dozing so peacefully. It delighted him because whenever he didn’t slumber next to you, he’d hear you from the other room. Woefully moaning in your sleep, as if crying, turning.

He never saw or heard any of that when you leaned into his embrace, held onto his shirt. Never did anything more than sleep; he was content with that.

But tonight was different, less chaste than that — and he was content with that, too.

You said you’d wanted to talk. And you had. You’d trembled through the conversation, heart combusting in your chest like it wasn’t part of you anymore, that treacherous thing with its own, stupid will.

But it thumped differently now when he kissed you like this. You felt the change so clearly when he held you, pushing you into the mattress; stripping you naked bit by bit; asking over and over again if you were okay, if he should stop.

You lived differently, too, when he pecked your bare skin, up and down, from head to toe, to and fro. His tongue explored your waist and your thighs and the wetness between your quivering legs.

And you loved differently when he immersed himself in you. Sighing and moaning against you as his tongue lapped you up. You felt the chills everywhere. Felt your shoulders rise, your hand in his long hair, the oxygen running out.

You’d nearly forgotten how such a moment felt — then again, you’d never experienced it like this before. You could barely breathe, and for the first time, you loved it. For the first time, it wasn’t your usual reason.

But the picture of the man over you pumping himself, covering his cock in the condom you’d bought weeks ago, just in case. Back when he started hanging around at your place. He was surprised about your preparation; was delighted about it, too.

And God… God, when he kissed you, sheathing himself in you, every inch connected with every piece of you. Souls and hearts and bodies merging. Moving in and out slowly, then a little quicker, cradling your face and kissing your neck.

Between all that, he kept asking if you were doing okay, and you said you’d never felt better. And the best part was that you fucking meant it and that’s when you knew—

That Yoongi warmed your coldest, most frigid spots. Helped you find a sense of heat that you’d long forgotten, that not even summer could ever bring back. The spring was right inside you, in the middle of your chest despite the rain.

But at the same time, somewhere next to it, he was there, too, becoming the storm that raged outside.

All at once, you remembered again. Even if you might forget in your worst times; even if he’d really need to remind you again.

You remembered that you could be loved, and that you were deserving of love.

You remembered that love towards somebody is often subjective and it’s not entirely up to you who feels it for you, and that only because somebody else was unable to give it to you the right way… it doesn’t mean everyone would act the same.

Yoongi was the spring and the storm; the rainbow you saw the next morning as the sky cleared.

Your mother used to struggle with migraines. Back then, you’d see her tied to the bed for half a day, struggling to get up, sleeping for a couple hours after swallowing her sumatriptan.

The evening or the morning after, you’d ask her how she was doing, and she’d say the headache was gone, but that some of the pressure still lingered. She’d feel it in the heaviness of her head, like it was falling against her clavicles.

Back then, you were too young to understand; you still don’t suffer migraines, knock on wood. But you somehow get what she meant — you guess the same applies to any other part of your body.

Like the soul.

They say a body becomes lighter after death since the soul leaves; and the morning after bawling in Yoongi’s arms, you feel the opposite. Like your grief makes you weigh more than during your good days.

Like you’re heavier than a month ago, without gaining a single kilogram.

But at least that means you’re alive. A soul intact.

And, just like your mother’s medicine, the night alleviated at least some of your pain. Maybe it was the conversation with Yoongi. Maybe the reassurance that he didn’t perceive you as the task you thought you might be.

Many years ago, you refused to seek help in others; be it loved ones, a partner or a therapist. Yoongi taught you to own who you were and to admit the problems you faced; that they were as valid as anything else.

Living with him and loving him this profoundly showed you that it’s okay to confide in someone. That someone will care. But it also taught you that ultimately, nobody is responsible for your well-being as much as you are.

That to heal, you need to accept yourself. That to accept yourself, you need to acknowledge the issues you face.

And for that, you need to be ready to combat your demons, understand that they can be fought.

You’ve always known that. In that sense, it isn’t true that you’re fully dependent on Yoongi. You know deep down that you’ll be the one pulling you out of this.

But…

It’s never bad for someone to initiate that thought process, is it? Even when it’s you emerging from the grave you dug for yourself; it’s okay to grab the hand as the earth breaks, pulling you out of the dirt and darkness.

Yoongi is the rope helping you out; but you’re the one to walk on once the endless well ends and you spot the daylight. You can rely on him. You can rely on yourself.

You’ll be okay… you’ll be okay.

“Ready?” Yoongi asks as you slip into your shoes. You look up, and nod, your smile soft. “Just a few more days, right?”

Right.

You’ll live day by day. Survive the hours, strive towards a better future. Count your blessings, find things to look forward to. It’s alright to fall sometimes, and whenever you do, you’ll remember you’re not alone.

That you’ll get up eventually. You hold onto this.

And onto those few last days until vacation calls. You booked it so long ago; it can be that one thing to grasp, to look forward to, right?

And… you laugh. Because you remember Yoongi telling you to get your nails done, that he’d even go with you. “But do not forget, because blue suits Greece and I’d love to see the colour on you.”

You act like you don’t know what his plea means. You act like you don’t know how much he loves you. How this very approaching plan of his proves that he couldn’t even let go of you if you gave him another reason to.

Isn’t this enough to understand that he never feels guilty of loving you?

Why are you so afraid…

Because.

Yoongi never viewed your pain as something you had control over or something you caused; whoever hurt you is at fault, not you. And Yoongi knows that; knows that you matter, with your past and present and future, however cruel they might be.

But despite the fact that your past made you who you are, and that your future will determine how you’ll further turn out to be, Yoongi always preaches to focus on the controllable.

We won’t ever be able to manage the future entirely; maybe you won’t even ever be faced with the fears you harbour, you know? The past is the past, the present is the present and the future is the future. They will torment us if we put too much meaning in them.

I know it’s hard. But it’ll be alright. One day, it will be — you’re okay.

It has to be…

You’ll be okay. You’re okay.

The weather might change at warp speed — but soon, it’ll be sunny again.

i know i said it's okay if you skip this one, but if you're reading this, you might not have, and i'm thankful for that <3 i needed these feelings out of my system, so it felt very cathartic to me. maybe it helped you a little, too? i hope so, at least – things will be okay 🤍

what do you think? since you're here, i'd love to know how you feel about this piece 💕

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #yoongi fics #myg smut

690 notes · View notes

evangelical04 · 6 months ago

Text

A Single Daffodil || 4

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 12.5K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut, body image issues

Author's Note: sorry this is being posted almost a month later! i was on a road trip with my friends but I wanted to get this out before my birthday (it's on the 17th eek!!) but I hope you guys like it! as usual, please tell me what you guys think! i'd love to hear your opinions <33 also I'm sorry if this chapter seems kinda boring, but the next one is gonna have some drama!! oooo

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling @themwordsblog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @kimmalik @honeyypages @captainchrisstan @khaimahfe @yoongibaybee @kooklovee @whoa-jo @familiarlikemymirror3 @blueberriesm @llallaaa @weareatthebadlands @purpleheartsandarock1 @lillmeowmeowsblog @this-most-assuredly-counts @kayleefriedchicken @ur-grandmum @praetae @sylviamuela

previous / masterlist / next

Waking up in an unfamiliar room was jarring, initially. It took you a couple of rounds of rubbing your eyes to realize that you were no longer in your cozy two-bedroom apartment with soft lighting and warm-colored pillows. You awoke to harsh sunlight hitting your face, blank walls, and beige furniture. You leaned back against the light brown headboard of your bed and ran your hands through your messy tangles of hair, having forgone brushing it out the previous night. Glancing at your phone beside you, you noted the time being only a bit past nine.

You needed tea, warm tea.

You shuffled out of bed, feeling the cold air nip at your bare legs, but you couldn’t find the motivation to change into warm clothing. You tied your hair into a messy ponytail, deciding to attend to it later, and exited your room, facing the cold and unfriendly hallway. There was a faint sound of quiet jazz from the kitchen, likely Mrs. Lim, and you descended the stairs. As you reached the bottom, you groaned internally, lamenting the fact that your favorite teas were still in your apartment.

Rounding the corner into view of the kitchen had you stopping in your tracks. Yoongi was sat atop one of the counter stools, peacefully scrolling on his phone in the same clothes you’d seen him in last night during your discussion. The unexpected sight had you stumbling backwards, bumping into the large recliner that sat behind you. The sound alerted him to your presence, his eyes turning to find your form.

“Um, hi,” you stuttered, “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

Yoongi hummed, eyes trailing up and down your figure, mouth upturned. You shifted your weight onto the other foot, feeling uncomfortable, before crossing your arms over your chest. You shouldn’t be this comfortable to walk around braless yet, you internally scolded.

“Well, it is the weekend,” Yoongi mused, still not taking his eyes off your chilled form. You laughed awkwardly, nodding, “Yeah, I suppose it is, isn’t it? I’ll be right back, actually, I forgot my phone upstairs.”

You didn’t wait to see his response before turning around and rushing back up the stairs. Reaching your room and closing the door behind you, you breathed heavily. What was that? You buried your head in your hands, sliding down the door to sit with your knees pulled to your chest, you should’ve expected him in his own goddamn house. Your cheeks burned at the memory of his eyes tracing your silhouette. How embarrassing. You wallowed in your self-pity a bit longer before rising and entering your large closet.

You picked out a simple cropped grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants, not finding a need to appear any more formal. You wanted to appear casual after the embarrassing display you started the morning off with. Plus, if Yoongi said this marriage meant nothing, you could walk around his house in loungewear. As long as your mother didn’t find out.

The thick cotton felt much more comfortable and warm, considering the slightly chilly air in the house. Yoongi must like it to be a bit colder, you thought absently. As you finished your morning routine, brushing your teeth and combing through your hair, making sure to pat on some moisturizer and acne treatment, your thoughts wandered back to seeing Yoongi earlier.

The way he had been looking at you was strange, much like Hoseok had mentioned. You weren’t dense, you knew the intention hidden behind a gaze like that, you’d been on the giving and receiving end before. What had you so puzzled was why Yoongi would be looking at you like that. Wasn’t he the one to draw such a clear line between you two?

Aside from the reason as to why he would be tracing the edges of your curves with his eyes was the effect that it had on you. Frustratingly, Yoongi’s hungry gaze sent warmth through your veins, and excitement pooled in your stomach. It was an embarrassing response, considering how he’d treated you before. At the same time, it felt expected. You had been pining after this man for so long and now he was showing the slightest bit of reciprocation, albeit, with more physical intentions than you. It only felt natural that it would leave you giddy with warm cheeks. It made you happy to think that Yoongi could be seeing you in a similar light.

Your dizzy smile faded as you looked in the mirror at your flushed face. What were you doing? The last eight months had been spent trying to drill into yourself that Yoongi would never like you that way because you couldn’t afford to get your hopes up. Why were you entertaining the idea again after one sultry stare? You felt pathetic, you had folded so easily as you always did when it came to him.

Smacking your cheeks a couple of times, you readied yourself to head back downstairs. He was just a man, no matter how attractive. Descending the stairs once more, you noticed Yoongi had moved to the couch, leaning back with his coffee on the table next to him, scrolling away on his phone. He hadn’t noticed your reentrance just yet and you awkwardly hovered by the edge of the couch, trying to get his attention.

Awkwardly clearing your throat did the trick and his gaze turned toward you, an eyebrow raised at your changed appearance.

“Do you, um, do you have any tea,” you mumbled out, avoiding his intense stare. You heard him hum, likely considering his kitchen inventory, before answering, “Sorry, no, just coffee. Would you like me to order some? There’s also coffee and juice if you want that instead.”

You quickly shook your head at his offer of ordering tea, “That’s fine, I’ll just have some warm water, thanks,” and quickly made your way into the kitchen, reaching the fridge. The metal box was massive, towering over you and quite wide, with a sleek, silver finish. There were no magnets or pictures adorning the exterior, though. Pulling it open, your eyes raked over the full contents, spotting a pitcher of what seemed like orange juice, but no Britta Filter or something of the like. Glancing at the sink, you noticed a second spout seemingly for filtered water. Shrugging, you supposed that Yoongi would be able to afford that and not have to have a water filter jug.

Next, you hunted for a kettle, which wasn’t too difficult to find, placed in a corner of the countertop. You took it out, setting it on the counter next to an outlet, but soon realized you had no idea where the cups were. The sheer amount of cupboards was overwhelming and you had no idea where to start looking, never mind the embarrassment of rifling through the kitchen in front of Yoongi.

Opening up cabinets as quietly as possible was not the easiest task when you could so heavily feel Yoongi’s presence in the living room. The anxiety in your chest built as you couldn’t tell whether or not he was watching you struggle to find a single mug. Coming to another cabinet above you, you opened it, spotting a mug or two on the edge of the top shelf portion. Just your luck. You hadn’t spotted a step stool anywhere and you were far too embarrassed already to climb on top of the counter to reach it. Your arm stretched out as you stood on your toes, fingers grasping at the edge of the shelf before you felt warmth envelop your back.

Freezing in place, you quickly identified Yoongi behind you, evidently assisting you in reaching the mugs. He didn’t seem quite tall enough either, you deduced, because he lifted his heels slightly, pushing further into you. Your breath stuttered and you almost had to brace yourself against the counter, you hadn’t really been this close to him before. You could feel his warm breath against the top of your hair, making your nape break out into goosebumps.

His fingers finally curled around the handle of the mug and he set his feet fully on the ground, but not moving away from you. You turned to face him, steadying your hands by grasping the edge of the countertop and lifted your head to look at him.

“Um, thank you,” you stuttered, unable to make full eye contact, instead opting for looking straight at his ear. He was too close and you couldn’t handle it. His other hand rested on the countertop, just beside yours, and his face was only inches away. How were you supposed to focus? Your gaze only lowered further, making your head turn slightly away. There was a second or two of just silence.

“No problem,” he responded bluntly, moving away and placing the mug down on the other counter that sat in the middle of the kitchen. You let out a heavy breath, finally being able to breathe something in other than Yoongi’s subtle cologne. Resisting the urge to question his sudden close proximity, you instead opted for, “Would you like some as well?

Yoongi only raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the living room where his coffee mug sat waiting. Your mouth clamped shut and you stuttered a nod, “Right, well I’ll just, um, finish doing this.”

God, could you be any more awkward?

Yoongi simply nodded and walked back to the living room, leaving you in the kitchen with warm cheeks and many regrets. You went through the motions of filling the kettle and starting it, waiting for it to boil before pouring it into the mug. The warm water was at least comforting in the chilly atmosphere, despite having no flavor. You stood in the kitchen, unsure of where you should go. Should you join Yoongi in the living room or go back to your room? Or should you stay in the kitchen? Nothing in your life had prepared you for the social expectations in a situation like this.

You decided on your room, not wanting to spend more time in Yoongi’s presence after the embarrassing display in the kitchen. As you made your way to the stairs, walking past Yoongi’s form on the couch, he called out to you.

“Y/N, can you sit for a moment?”

You turned towards him and nervously nodded, taking a seat on the same loveseat as the night prior. It was quite comfortable even though you had been the epitome of uncomfortable each time you’d sat in it so far. You looked up at Yoongi, silently gesturing for him to continue.

“Some of my friends are coming over tonight, the same that made up my groomsmen. If you don’t mind, are you able to stay in your room?”

“Oh, sure,” you nodded, that was all? You were nervous for nothing.

“Thanks,” Yoongi almost smiled at you, “They’ll be here around seven.”

“Sounds good,” you said while standing up, you couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. In your rush to get back to your room, you didn’t notice Yoongi’s gaze lingering on your retreating form.

Closing your bedroom door behind you, you breathed a sigh of relief. What a day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Adjusting to life with Yoongi was definitely going to be a learning curve.

Since you were off work for the next two weeks, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with your time. You couldn’t exactly relax in the living room and watch a movie, not with your husband occupying the couch. Things certainly felt stifled in Yoongi’s home. His presence was overwhelming and nerve-wracking, you couldn’t relax around him at all. The earlier interaction in the kitchen still weighed on your mind.

Why did he get so close to you? Wasn’t he the one who proposed that the two of you stay as far apart as possible? Maybe he didn’t see his closeness to you as something that went against that principle. You sighed. It felt impossible to read him or know what he was thinking at all. His impassive expressions and ambivalent demeanor were starting to get to you.

Even though you’d resolved to take on an emotionally removed approach like him, you still craved some sort of transparency in his confusing actions that stirred mixed emotions within you. Some of the things he was doing would point towards him harboring some sort of affection toward you but he had been so adamant in keeping your lives separated. What you needed was a clear message from him about how he felt and actions that aligned with that.

Not that you thought that was going to happen.

After setting your mug down on your bedside table, you collapsed onto the soft comforters of your bed. The ceiling above you was plain unlike the one in your apartment and you found yourself missing the nights of tracing along the popcorn pattern in your warm and comfy bed. Speaking of your apartment though, you thought, you should probably check in on how Hoseok��s doing.

You patted your hand around for your phone, finding it beside you, and dialed Hoseok’s number, setting it to speaker and letting the phone sit beside your head. It only rang twice before he answered.

“Well, hello Mrs. Min,” came his teasing voice.

You groaned, kicking your legs up in the air, “Shut up, don’t remind me.”

“Aren’t you living the dream, though? Married to your long-time crush?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, recalling your husband’s cold and calculating exterior.

“Well, what’s up, how’s the first morning? Are you sore,” Hoseok questioned, you could hear him shuffling around, likely lying down on the bed himself.

“I guess? My calves are kind of sore, those heels fucking hurt after the first hour,” you responded, massaging your aching feet.

“No,” Hoseok laughed, “Are you sore from your consummation? Tell me how it was!”

“Gross,” you exclaimed, sitting up on the bed incredulously, “We did not have sex! I can barely look at him for fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to sleep with him?”

“That’s your fault for not taking advantage of the situation,” he hummed on the other end, “The opportunity was right there.”

“Dude, c’mon, he can barely stand me. We wouldn’t have been sleeping together even if I could look him in the eye.”

“You’ll get there,” Hoseok chimed optimistically, making you desperately want to change the subject.

“How’s your apartment hunting going,” you asked, grasping at any other topic you could.

“Smooth,” he laughed but acquiesced and answered your question, “Good, I think. I’ve got a couple of showings in a few days that seem promising. Rent here is way more expensive than Busan though.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Tell me about it. I don’t know how Yoongi affords this place.”

“He probably owns it.”

“Damn, you’re probably right. Should a peasant like me even be allowed in here,” you half-joked.

Hoseok only scoffed in response, “As if you’re not literally the daughter of chaebols.”

You hummed, nodding, “Touche.”

“Oh, I did talk to my old boss and he said there was an old student of his in Seoul who was also looking to open up a dance studio. Apparently, he’s just finishing up his MBA so I’m going to talk to him and see if he wants to become partners,” Hoseok excitedly detailed.

“That’s so cool! I’m sure he’ll say yes,” you responded happily. Hoseok deserved to succeed after how hard he’d worked and if this other guy knew anything, he’d say yes to Hoseok in a heartbeat.

“How is everything else,” Hoseok asked, prompting you to sigh.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you said tiredly, wondering if you should divulge what had happened during the wedding and this morning.

“Tell me about it,” he said quietly, encouraging you.

“Alright,” you huffed, settling in for the long haul of recounting the previous day and the conversation when you’d gotten to Yoongi’s penthouse. You finished by detailing the events this morning and the fact that his friends were coming over later.

Hoseok listened diligently, making sure to have the appropriate reactions at the right moments. When you finished retelling the events of that morning, Hoseok laughed, “How cliche. This really feels like your own movie romance.”

You shook your head, laughing along, “I guess it was pretty cliche. Everything feels so cliche with him, like the first time I’m falling in love as a teenager or something. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing to like someone, Y/N,” Hoseok says, changing his tone to be a bit softer, “Having a crush isn’t all that immature, it’s the way you act on it that can be.”

“You’re surprisingly profound,” you joked, but you knew he had a point. You had been beating yourself up about feeling anything for Yoongi and feeling embarrassed whenever you became flustered. It felt childish and you hated feeling so vulnerable and disadvantaged.

“Well, I have my moments,” Hoseok chuckled, “But seriously, don’t be so hard on yourself. Let yourself feel and then choose how to deal with it. If that means moving on, then do that, slowly. And it’s okay if it means keeping the feelings, as long as you're not hurting yourself or anyone else.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” you smiled, he really did have his moments.

“Anytime, Y/N-ie,” Hoseok responded fondly, making you smile widen at the affectionate nickname.

“But I do have to go now. I’ve got some calls to make about my old apartment. They’re trying to keep my deposit,” he huffed.

“Yikes, good luck with that, let me know how it goes,” you give him a sweet goodbye before hanging up. The conversation with Hoseok had cleared your head some, leaving you wondering what your next move should be. You promptly decided on a nap.

After a few hours, you awoke, stretching in your bed, feeling slightly groggy, but well rested. Your head felt clearer than ever and you actually felt ready to live in this penthouse.

Sitting up, you took a look around your room before sighing. The beiges and whites were really starting to get to you. You dragged yourself out of your bed and towards your bag from the previous night. After digging around for a moment, you triumphantly located your laptop and its charger, plugging it into the outlet near your desk. Booting up your laptop only took a few moments but you occupied yourself by making a mental list of the decorations you wanted to purchase or bring from your own apartment. After logging in, you dejectedly realized you weren’t connected to the wifi.

You should’ve asked Mrs. Lim for the wifi password, you thought scornfully, why had you been so careless. Now you had to ask Yoongi. Your mission of avoiding him at all costs was going poorly.

Reaching for your phone, you opted instead to text him to minimize the interaction, feeling proud of your solution.

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, would you mind giving me the wifi password, please?

You quickly set your phone face down on the desk, dreading the reply. What if he thought you were an idiot? What if he didn’t give it to you and you had to use a hotspot for the rest of your life and spend hundreds on your data charges?

Your spiraling thoughts were interrupted by your phone vibrating against the desk’s surface.

Yoongi:

Sure. It’s worldwidehandsomesvacationhome. No capitals.

You let out a confused chuckle, what a weird name. You had a nagging feeling that Kim Seokjin had something to do with it.

You:

Thank you. Have fun with your friends.

You threw your phone against the desk and launched yourself into your bed. Was that too much? Oh god, what if you had royally messed up and crossed a boundary? You stayed in your bed for a few minutes before rising, noting that your phone hadn’t vibrated with a response. Hesitantly approaching your phone, you turned it over to see a blank screen with no notifications. You checked the message thread to see it the same as you left it except that you had been left on read.

Well, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.

You shrugged and retook your seat at your desk, entering the wifi password on your laptop and phone. Finding a successful connection, you spent the next few hours browsing through online stores for fun decorations and decals for your room and office in the penthouse. The search took your full attention and you bought multiple items, saving a few of the more expensive purchases for other credit cycles. At the end of it all, you’d bought multiple pillows, a throw blanket, some cute decoration trinkets off of Etsy, a couple of cute flower lamps, a comfy-looking lounge chair, and some lilac curtains. Decorating your room in some fun colors and trinkets would make it feel more like home, or at least, that’s what you hoped.

Sitting on the desk next to your laptop was a small notebook that held a list of the items you planned to purchase, mainly a TV for your room so you could watch movies and use your console, a larger and cuter desk, and a comfier desk chair, as well as transferring a number of other items from your apartment like your plants, books, and other decorations.

Coming out of your reverie, you noticed that the time had passed quickly, being a little after seven, and your stomach grumbled, reminding you of your forgetting to eat lunch. Cooking in the kitchen wasn’t an option, noting the laughter downstairs likely meaning that Yoongi’s friends had arrived already, and you didn’t know what ingredients were there anyway, or if you were allowed to use them.

Sighing, you instead decided to order delivery. You browsed through the local restaurants before settling on a fried chicken restaurant that you frequented that had a location close to your apartment and another near Yoongi’s. Selecting your usual order, you almost checked out before realizing that you were about to order it to your apartment. Grinning, you imagined Hoseok opening your door to a crispy chicken delivery and having no second thoughts about eating your food.

You couldn’t remember Yoongi’s address, so you resorted to looking at your maps app to figure it out, and your previous texts with Mrs. Lim for the internal building directions. A rush of content flowed through you as you placed the order, eagerly awaiting your hearty meal.

To pass the time, you grabbed your Switch, loading in whatever game you had been playing previously, some indie puzzle game. You settled into the relaxing and cute gameplay and drowned out the noise of Yoongi’s friends further into the penthouse.

After a while, your phone vibrated with the notification that the delivery was here, and you jumped up, eager to receive your food. Quickly opening your door, you entered the hallway to make your way to the stairs before hesitating. You could hear Kim Seokjin’s signature laugh in the living room.

Oh, that’s right, Yoongi didn’t want you to come down.

You tittered around the banister, unsure of whether you should go down before you felt your phone buzz with the driver asking where you were.

Ah, fuck it.

You quickly descended the stairs and tried to discreetly go through the back end of the living room to avoid Yoongi’s group drinking and playing some sort of game on the coffee table. Of course, you were unsuccessful, spotted by Seokjin immediately.

“Yah, Seo Y/N,” he shouted, pointing at you, clearly quite drunk already.

You froze in place, turning toward him and sending him a shy wave.

“Why are you over there,” Seokjin slurred, “Come join us! You need to drink!”

You began shaking your head before you were interrupted.

“Noona!”

Jeongguk’s bright voice and wide smile brought a smile to your own face, and you mouthed a small hello in his direction.

“Come join us, noona, please,” Jeongguk pleaded, shooting lethal doe eyes in your direction. Your heart melted and you almost agreed, but you felt your phone buzz in your pocket again, making you restart your steps toward the door, “Sorry, Jeongguk-ah, I just came down to get my delivery.”

You ignored his and Seokjin’s protests to open the door and pay the driver, leaving an extra tip for the wait they endured, and taking the food.

“Woah, is that fried chicken,” you heard from over your shoulder, turning to see Jeongguk suddenly there, eyeing your takeout bag. You chuckled, nodding, before beginning your trek back to the stairs.

“C’mon Y/N-ah, join us, Yoongi doesn’t mind,” Seokjin attempted once more and you took the moment to search out his face. Yoongi was sitting in the loveseat you had earlier, eyes resting on you in an unreadable expression. Taehyung was on the floor where Jeongguk was previously and Namjoon was on the couch with Seokjin. Yoongi’s stern expression seemed out of place among the group of happy and buzzed faces and it only made you feel worse.

“Sorry, oppa, I think I’m just gonna head up. I’m kind of tired,” you responded, shying away from Jeongguk’s insistent touch and multiple attempts to snag a piece of chicken.

“You’re so boring, Y/N, you’ll need to join us soon enough, so why not now,” Seokjin slurred, body swinging to lean on the other end of the couch. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Yoongi open his mouth to say something but was beaten by Namjoon.

“Let her be, hyung, you can’t force her,” Namjoon smacked Seokjin’s shoulder before sending you a kind smile and gesturing towards the stairs.

You shot him a grateful smile before ascending, deliberately avoiding Yoongi’s icy stare. Seokjin’s cries faded into the background as you quickly climbed the stairs and reached your room.

Closing the door behind you, a sigh escaped your mouth. How stressful. You hoped that Yoongi wasn’t upset with you for interrupting, you were just quite hungry. You set the bag down on your desk, mouth salivating at the pleasant aroma. You could almost say the intense encounter was worth the heavenly bite of fried chicken you took.

The next week went by rather smoothly, mainly because you had barely seen Yoongi at all. He hadn’t come out of his room much the following day after his friends had come and then resumed work afterward with the week starting up once more. You relished the opportunity to set up your room and office in a style more akin to yours and filled the rooms with plants and flowers you adored.

Mrs. Lim had been happy to help you set up your rooms, citing boredom from the countless greys and blacks that Yoongi’s decor tended to lean towards. You had developed a close bond with her in the week since your arrival in the penthouse and she was a comforting presence in the face of Yoongi’s frosty exterior.

“Ms. Seo, I think your TV is here!”

You sat up from the intense building of your desk, wiping a line of sweat from your forehead. All of the moving around and lifting had you quite warm and you had changed into a loose crop top and shorts. While the work wasn’t necessarily difficult, it was tedious to do alone but you didn’t have much of a choice. You couldn’t ask Mrs. Lim with her bad back to crouch and bend to help you put it together, Joohee was going out to a work dinner with her colleagues, and Hoseok was off to another apartment showing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out anyone else you could call on a Friday evening to help.

“Coming,” you shouted down to Mrs. Lim and rose to your feet, having to lean slightly against the wall. You took a glance at the TV stand you had already snagged second-hand from Joohee after she had decided to mount hers and confirmed it was in the spot you wanted. Heading down the stairs to the living room, you noted Mrs. Lim’s conflicted stance, hands on her hips.

“What’s wrong,” you questioned, rounding the corner of the couch to see the large box the TV had arrived in. The box was quite large and seemed to be rather heavy, which would make it extremely difficult to carry up the stairs by yourself. Immediately, you knew this was going to be an issue because you couldn’t ask Mrs. Lim for help. You’d managed thus far, with your desk arriving in multiple boxes that were more lightweight, your chair being fairly easy to drag up the stairs, and Joohee helping with the TV stand. Crossing your arms, you studied the box before wrapping your hands underneath to test the weight.

It lifted slightly, but you soon had to release it, the edge slipping from your fingers. There was no way you’d be able to get this up on your own.

“Don’t try it by yourself, dear,” Mrs. Lim soothed, “You’ll hurt your back and end up just like me.”

You chuckled, brushing the hair out of your face once again, “Yeah, at least one of us needs to be able to reach the bottom shelf in the kitchen.”

Mrs. Lim playfully smacked your shoulder, “What happened to respecting your elders? You’re quite warm though, would you like some cold water?”

You nodded appreciatively, “Yes, please. Thank you!”

Mrs. Lim waved you off as she walked into the kitchen. Turning towards the box, you huffed, staring it down. What should you do?

Suddenly, you heard the door unlock and it popped open, hitting the box in the process, stopping it from opening fully.

“Mrs. Lim,” came Yoongi’s voice, “Is there something in the doorway?”

“Oh, my bad,” you exclaimed, quickly bending to push the box out of the way. After you’d pushed it aside, you stood to greet Yoongi.

He was running a hand through his hair, staring at the box before his eyes trailed to you and up your legs to your face. You felt your cheeks heat before sending him a small bow and nod.

“What’s all this,” he questioned.

“I’m just getting some stuff for my room, sorry for all the trouble,” you wrung your hands together nervously.

Yoongi shook his head and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Mrs. Lim arriving with your water, “Oh, Mr. Min, you’re home!” Handing you the glass, she continued, “Ms. Seo was just trying to figure out how to bring this box up to her room. It’s much too big for just her to handle and I can’t help because of my back. So unfortunate, isn’t it?”

You cringed internally, taking a sip of water to give yourself something to do. Yoongi only nodded, looking at you once more before moving out of the doorway. He started towards the stairs, leaving you breathing out in relief and gulping down more water.

Just as he began climbing the steps to his room, he turned and faced your form, “Give me a couple minutes to change and I can help you bring that to your room.”

You almost choked on your water as you stumbled through a nod, surprised at Yoongi’s offer to help. He didn’t spare you another glance as he retreated to his room and you were left standing cluelessly as Mrs. Lim sent you a sly smile.

“Well, I’ll just leave you to it. Your dinner is already prepped, there’s japchae and banchan to cool you down. It’s just about time for me to head home anyway,” Mrs. Lim said, clapping her hands together and starting to untie her apron.

You pounced, stopping her hands from undoing the knot, “Mrs. Lim, maybe you can join us for dinner?” You were desperate in your attempt to not be left alone with Yoongi, looking up at Mrs. Lim with pleading eyes.

She only chuckled, gently removing your hands and finishing releasing the knot, her apron falling loose around her front, “Use this as an opportunity to get to know him better. I promise Mr. Min is a nice, young man.”

You almost scoffed, everyone seemed to be trying to convince you of that except for Yoongi himself.

Mrs. Lim put her apron away and gave your cheek a gentle pinch before opening the door, “Besides, I have a dinner date with Mr. Lim. Good luck!” She closed the door behind her and you were left wondering how to navigate the upcoming interaction. Yoongi didn’t give you much time to prepare, appearing at the top of the stairs only seconds after Mrs. Lim’s exit. He was now dressed in a casual grey t-shirt and black sweats, posing a stunning contrast to his earlier neat and tailored suit.

“Where did Mrs. Lim go,” he asked, starting his descent to the living room.

“Um, she left to go home. She said there was dinner already prepped and she had to have dinner with her husband,” you answered awkwardly, avoiding his intense gaze.

Yoongi simply nodded, “That’s fine. Shall we get started, then?”

You nodded, rushing to one end of the box as Yoongi took his place at the other.

“I’ll walk backward, so just let me know when I’ve gotten to the stairs,” he said, making you nod in response, finding it difficult to speak. You both lifted, the box becoming much easier to carry with two pairs of hands.

You kept your gaze firmly trained on the view behind Yoongi, refusing to make eye contact. You were nervous it’d make your grip slip. Warning Yoongi when you had reached the stairs, the rest of the trip had been fairly easy, quietly giving him directions to your room. Thankfully, your door was open and the two of you entered, setting the box down and breathing slightly heavily.

You looked up to express your gratitude to Yoongi but found him looking around your room instead. You supposed it would be his first time in here since you’d arrived. It had changed quite drastically since you had moved in, sporting much more color and silly accessories. Your bed now had a lilac comforter and a white throw blanket, along with multiple cute, fuzzy throw pillows in fun shapes like clouds or mushrooms. The lounge chair had been set up in the corner with a few other pillows and Pokemon plushes you already had. The lilac curtains you ordered had already been set up, currently open to let some light into the room. A few of your favorite tote bags sat hanging on a hook you’d stuck on by the entrance and there were small crocheted and artsy trinkets plastered or hung around the room. Taking a look around it now, for the first time, your aesthetic felt silly and childish in comparison to Yoongi’s sleek, grown-up look.

“Um,” you started, wanting to take Yoongi’s gaze off of your colorful and immature decorations, “Thank you for, ah, helping out.”

Yoongi’s head turned toward you, finding your worried face, biting your lip.

“No problem,” he responded, “I like your room.”

You looked up at him questioningly, not expecting such a response. You had assumed he would think of it as childish and express his distaste, or just ignore it altogether.

“It’s cute.”

You felt your lips part in surprise at his seemingly earnest reaction to your newly decorated room. It made you feel a bit guilty for assuming he wouldn’t like it before. Furthermore, describing it as ‘cute’ seemed so unlike him. You weren’t sure how to respond. Smiling awkwardly, you nodded, “Thanks, I’m glad you like it.”

You’re glad he likes it? What kind of response is that? You groaned internally, now it seemed like you were pining for his validation. Why couldn’t the ground just swallow you whole?

Yoongi hummed in response before dusting off his hands on his sweats, “Would you like to have dinner then?”

You looked at him in slight shock. The two of you hadn’t had a meal together since you’d moved in, yet here he was offering as if it was a normal occurrence for you.

“Unless you’re eating later,” Yoongi’s eyebrow raised at your delayed response.

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. I’d love to have dinner now.”

Way to sound over-eager.

The both of you made your way downstairs, unpacking the meal that Mrs. Lim had prepared for you. The cold noodles felt soothing to your overheating body and Mrs. Lim’s kimchi was the perfect balance of fresh and sour. She had even made cucumber kimchi, one of your favorites as she’d learned in the past week, which you happily devoured. While the food was delicious, the atmosphere surrounding the dinner table was awkward. The meal was largely silent, save for the sounds of eating and happy tummies. Distantly, you wondered which of the two of you was going to be the one to break the silence. Surprisingly, it turned out to be Yoongi.

“Were you told about the gala tomorrow evening?”

You nodded, your mother had called you a few days ago to notify you of it. That hadn’t been a fun phone call. She’d made sure to tell you exactly what she expected you to wear and how to act around Yoongi during the gala. You were just relieved that it started at eight, there was an art gallery that you had been wanting to check out that opened at three.

“We’ll go together, we’ll leave at 7:45, does that sound good,” Yoongi asked, glancing at his phone between bites of japchae. You only nodded, trying to map out your schedule for the next day so that you could go to the art gallery and still have enough time to get ready.

“Alright then, that’s settled,” Yoongi stated, taking his last bites of food.

“Oh, wait,” you interjected, remembering your conversation with your mother, “Do you have a dark blue tie?”

Yoongi’s eyebrow raised, “Yes, I believe so. Why?”

Your cheeks heated, “My mother wanted your tie to match my dress. Sorry.” It was quite embarrassing and your mother had not listened to reason. Apparently, she wanted to solidify the image of you two as a couple at this gala, despite the fact that the only people who matched dresses and ties were high school kids going to dances.

Yoongi nodded, picking up his phone and rising from the table, “That’s fine. I’ll be sure to wear that tie then.” With that, he exited the dining room and headed upstairs, with you catching a glimpse of him entering his upstairs office.

Sitting back in your chair, you groaned audibly. Could you get through a single day without making yourself look like a fool in front of Yoongi? You flailed slightly in a mini tantrum at the day’s events before gazing at your plate. Opting for more food, you shoveled it into your mouth in an attempt to soothe your aching ego. After finishing admittedly more than a couple of servings worth, you gathered both yours and Yoongi’s plates and put them in the dishwasher. You filled up your water bottle before climbing the stairs to your room.

You wanted nothing more than to collapse in your bed but your unfinished desk lying in pieces on the floor was weighing on you, in addition to the large TV box that sat inconveniently in the middle of your room. Sighing, you dropped down into a cross-legged position beside the mess of wooden planks and screws and continued putting together the desk, not looking forward to the long night ahead.

At least you had the gallery tomorrow to look forward to.

When you awoke the next morning, it was just past eleven. The bedsheets were crumpled around you and your hair was a tangled mess, but your desk and TV were set up prettily. You must’ve worked late into the night because you didn’t remember getting into bed, much less finishing the desk or setting up the TV. You still had to attach your console and Blu-ray player anyway.

Blearily, you pulled yourself out of bed, stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Your eyes were barely open so you didn’t notice the way your cropped shirt had slipped down your shoulder with its wide neck, nor Yoongi sitting on the couch with a coffee mug in his hand. You squinted through the cupboard to find your favorite mug and picked it out, grabbing the lavender-infused tea that was a regular of yours before setting the kettle to boil. As you waited for the water to boil, you rubbed your eyes awake, finally noticing Yoongi staring at you from the couch.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you bowed slightly, “I didn’t see you there. Good morning.”

Yoongi only nodded, raising his coffee mug to you before returning his gaze to his phone. You were still too tired to feel much embarrassment so you only shrugged and turned back to the kettle. Surprisingly, Yoongi wasn’t done interacting with you, startling you to face him.

“Do you have any plans for before the gala?”

“Yes, I’m going to an art show nearby. But I’ll be back in time to get ready,” you rushed to answer.

Yoongi took a sip of his coffee, his eyebrows raised and eyes staring into you from behind the rim of the cup.

“Oh, sorry, I would ask you to come along but it’s a ticketed event and they’re sold out,” you stuttered, figuring that was why he was still looking at you questioningly.

Yoongi set his mug down, eyes flickering over your form, “I wasn’t planning on going anyway.”

“Ah, right,” you awkwardly said, internally scolding yourself for the embarrassing display.

Of course, he wasn’t asking to go with you, how dense could you be?

Your body felt hot with humiliation and you willed the water to boil faster. Somehow, the gods answered you and the kettle went off, making you rush to pour out the water into your mug. You opted to let it steep in your room, ready to get out of the shared space where Yoongi’s judgemental gaze lay.

Nodding a quick goodbye, you rushed up the steps and entered the oasis of your room. You set down your mug on your desk, letting it steep, and entered your closet to pick out an outfit for the gallery. You ended up choosing a short, brown, corduroy dress to layer over a collared white blouse, feeling quite cute in the outfit. You set the clothes aside, sitting down to drink your tea while reading a bit more of the fantasy book you’d recently picked up. You had made sure to note down your wide collection of books to be part of the things you brought from your apartment. You hadn’t managed to fit everything, but you had brought a significant portion of your favorites and ones you were currently reading.

Once you finished your tea, you set your book aside and began to ready yourself for a shower. After brushing through your hair and grabbing some undergarments, you entered the shower, making sure to take your time and shave for both your dress now and later tonight. The shower was warm and soothing, relaxing your body underneath the steaming stream of water.

After exiting, you did your normal post-shower routine of moisturizing, making sure to add a little extra care to your face. Not for any reason, in particular, you told yourself, just to feel a little pretty. After finishing, you donned your dress and blouse, adding shorts underneath just in case, and began styling your hair. It didn’t need too much as you decided to leave it open, parting it slightly to one side and ruffling it a bit to give it some volume. You finished off with some light makeup and simple gold jewelry, satisfied with your final look. You didn’t get dressed up too often, but you liked doing it for events like galleries, partly for the pictures but mostly just to feel cute.

You snapped a quick picture of your finished look in the mirror in your closet and sent it to the group chat you had with Joohee and Hoseok.

To: Milf Club (est. 2014)

You:

image attached

art gallery fit 💪

Hoebi:

you look like my wife

*future wife

Joo-nie:

omgg step on me queen

so when are you attending the met gala 🤨

You:

omfg it’s just a dress you guys

also i better see you at the gala tonight joo

bring hobi as your date

Joo-nie:

ew no

you can bring him as yours tho

You:

i have a literal husband who’s my date

Hoebi:

girls girls, don’t fight there’s enough hobi to go around

Joo-nie:

die

You:

nevermind, you can stay home

Hoebi:

you guys are so mean 😭

i was planning on touring a potential studio space anyway so go have fun being rich

Joo-nie:

omg good luck! let us know how it goes!

You:

yes def do

i’ll see you tonight joo

Glancing at your watch, you noted the time being around 2:30. It gave you enough time to stop by a cafe by the art gallery to grab a snack since you hadn’t eaten yet. You opted for your crocheted tote bag, not really caring about it making the look more casual, and stuffed your phone, wallet, and a small water bottle inside. You were planning on walking to the gallery so you didn’t need to bring your keys. Lastly, you pulled on some socks and headed downstairs.

Yoongi was still sitting on the couch and you felt his eyes follow your form walking to the door. As you slipped on your shoes, he called out to you, “Going to the gallery?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Yoongi nodded in response, still looking at you, “You, uh,”

You stood fully, finished with your shoes, and looked at him to continue.

“See you then,” he finished, leaving you slightly confused at his odd demeanor but smiling politely nonetheless. Just as you opened the door and began to exit, you heard his voice once more.

“Have fun.”

You turned to face him, sending him a genuine smile, “Thanks, I will! See you tonight.”

With that, you closed the door behind you and headed to the small cafe near the gallery. The walk was pleasant with warm weather that wasn’t too hot and a slight breeze to cool you. Soon, you reached the cafe, a cute and quaint spot that had been around for around ten years at that point. You visited often with Joohee on Saturday afternoons when the two of you had plans later in the day.

You opened the door, it jingling in response to your arrival, and the employee at the counter looked up. The one working that morning was Daehwa, a college student who had been working there for a couple of years now. He knew your order well and often engaged you in conversation if the cafe was empty. There was a bit of a crowd today so he quickly entered your order without you having to say anything, and began making it while you waited off to the side. Once he presented you with your iced tea and croissant with a wink, you sent him a grateful smile, and quickly tore through the croissant, noting the time getting closer to three.

You finished your snack in record time and quickly stood, clearing away your space and waving a quick goodbye to Daehwa, who sent you a grin in response. The gallery was just across the street and had a small line outside, which you quickly joined. You sipped the last of your tea, looking around for a trashcan near you so you didn’t have to bring it inside the gallery, but only saw one close to the entrance which meant you’d lose your spot in line. The idea made you frown and you considered keeping the empty cup in your bag until you moved forward in the line.

“Seo Y/N?”

You turned at the mention of your name to find Kim Namjoon standing behind you in a light brown sweater and collared white shirt underneath, with a darker brown corduroy blazer and khakis. He had round, wiry glasses on and wore a stunning smile that showed off his deep dimples.

“Oh, Namjoon-ssi, I didn’t realize you’d be attending this as well,” you said, smiling and bowing politely.

“Yeah, I’ve been following this artist for a while now and saw a couple of months ago that they were doing an exhibition. Do you like Cha Heewon too,” he asked, putting his hands into his pockets. His kind gaze on you and sweet smile made your cheeks feel warm as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I’ve been following them for a few years now so I was really excited when I saw the location for this show. I was lucky to get tickets, they sold out so fast!”

“I know, right? I was basically refreshing the page the day they opened up trying to be the first one in,” Namjoon chuckled and his baritone voice reverberated through your bones, almost making you sigh.

“Yeah, but at least we’re here now,” you smiled, about to turn back around.

“Would you, uh, like to walk around the exhibit together,” Namjoon asked, scratching the back of his head.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if this would be crossing a line with Yoongi, but you steeled yourself. He wasn’t allowed to dictate who you became friends with. You clearly bumped into Namjooon by coincidence and have a shared interest, so why wouldn’t you two walk around together?

“I’d love to,” you responded, feeling proud of your steadfastness in not letting Yoongi mandate your choices or social interactions.

Namjoon smiled widely in response, nodding, “Great, none of the other guys want to come with me to these kinds of things. Sometimes, Tae does but he’s super flaky.”

You chuckled, “Same here, Joo always complains about how boring it is and Hobi wasn’t even here, but he wouldn’t enjoy it either.”

“Hobi, that’s Hoseok, right? The one who worked in Busan,” Namjoon recalled, scratching his chin.

“Yes,” you nodded, “He’s planning on moving back here so he’s all busy trying to get that sorted.”

“Well, maybe we can go to these things together in the future,” Namjoon proposed, smiling down at you.

You felt your cheeks heat, being around handsome men wasn’t good for your health. You looked up at Namjoon, smiling in response, “I’d really like that, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon cringed, his mouth turning up into a frown, “You can drop the formality, we’re the same age, right?”

You nodded, laughing slightly, “I guess I’m just used to it. I’d really like that, Namjoon-ah,” you emphasized. Namjoon chuckled, turning away for a moment. You could’ve sworn you saw his ears go pink at the edge.

The line moved forward fairly quickly and the two of you were soon inside the exhibit, with you throwing away your cup at the entrance. Namjoon gave thoughtful commentary on each painting you stopped at, with you providing your thoughts as well. You found yourself quickly becoming comfortable in his presence and the two of you were soon joking around and making very pleasant conversation.

At one point, an older woman stopped the two of you, stating, “You’re such a cute couple, I love your matching outfits. I hope you’re having a fun date!”

The woman walked off before you or Namjoon could correct her, so you ended up trying to laugh off the encounter. Her words made your cheeks burn and you worried that it had offended Namjoon, especially considering that Yoongi was his friend. If it bothered Namjoon, he didn’t show it, instead carrying on like nothing had happened.

Namjoon’s company was quite enjoyable and you relaxed into his smooth voice, feeling yourself becoming less and less stiff. The conversation flowed easily and you both bonded over your love for art, with Namjoon mentioning other artists that you noted down to look up later. He seemed much more experienced in this area than you and you found yourself enraptured by his explanations and passionate rants.

A couple of hours passed and the two of you exited, with Namjoon insisting on walking you to Yoongi’s building. Your conversation from inside the gallery continued as you walked, and you found yourself not wanting to return to Yoongi’s apartment in favor of Namjoon’s calming presence.

“I noticed you weren’t wearing your ring,” Namjoon mentioned, making you stumble in your step.

You glanced down at your hand before scratching the back of your head embarrassedly, “Yeah, I guess I’m still getting used to it. It’s kind of weird, being married that is.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Namjoon smiled reassuringly, “I’m sure Yoongi hasn’t been the most receptive either.”

“Understatement of the year,” you laughed, a tinge of annoyance present in your tone, “He’s so hard to read.”

“He’s like that with most people. He takes some time to open up. I promise he’s a really great guy once you get to know him, he’s just a bit uncomfortable in the situation. He’ll warm up to you, eventually,” Namjoon said, patting your shoulder.

“Eventually,” you repeated, twisting your hand around your ring finger. You should really put it on.

You had reached Yoongi’s building at this point and had stopped just outside the doors. Namjoon must’ve noticed your solemn mood because he added one last thing before leaving, “You know, as much as Yoongi’s dragged his feet throughout this whole marriage process, I haven’t seen him without his ring once since the wedding.”

You looked up at Namjoon, lips slightly parted at the surprising statement. Namjoon only winked before turning around, “I’ll see you at the gala tonight, Y/N.”

Nodding mutely, you waved, before entering into the building and taking the elevator up to Yoongi’s floor. You weren’t really sure what to make of Namjoon’s words.

Adding the final touches to your look felt simple enough, you’d dressed for these types of galas before. The dark blue satin dress felt nice against your skin and the cowl neck flattered your bodice and neckline. You chose a thin necklace that dipped into your cleavage with matching earrings, deciding to keep your hair down to avoid having to style it. After donning your “rich people” watch, as Hoseok had dubbed it due to its stark contrast to your usual digital watch, you felt that your look was complete. Taking one last look in your mirror, you scrutinized yourself, trying to find anything that would make you seem undeserving of Yoongi.

It wasn’t a train of thought you were comfortable with, but your mother had made sure to emphasize its importance. You needed to look like someone worthy of being at Yoongi’s side. You certainly didn’t feel like it, but your mother didn’t really care about that. Just like in everything else, the outward appearance and how you were perceived by others took the utmost importance.

Your reflection stared back at you, solemn and lonely. You had tried to hide your tiredness with makeup, but you still felt that you could see the exhaustion in your face. You felt drained.

Everything was tiring.

You didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity, though. After tapping your cheeks lightly to give yourself some encouragement, you headed for your door. You were just about to open it, catching a glimpse of your hand encasing the doorknob, feeling that your finger looked empty.

You considered for a moment whether you should really display your relationship or not, but Namjoon’s words circled inside your head. Shaking them off, you turned around, grabbing your wedding band off your desk, and slipping it on. You did say that you should wear it more regularly, you told yourself.

You headed down the stairs, catching sight of Yoongi in his regular suit with a dark blue tie that was similar enough to the shade of your dress. He looked stunning with his dark hair combed back and suit fitted to his slender waist. Your eyes trailed up his form, appreciating his full visual before reaching his face, who was looking at you with wide eyes.

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed, maybe you had tried a bit too hard. A nauseous feeling began building up in your stomach as you descended the staircase, feeling heavily self-conscious of your appearance. Did you try too hard? Not enough? Did you look ridiculous? You bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to mess up your lipstick, maybe you should’ve tried for a different dress. The sickly feeling grew as you approached Yoongi at the door, avoiding making eye contact. You didn’t have time to change now, but you sure wished that you had a large coat to cover yourself.

You really didn’t want to go to this gala.

As you finished slipping on your heels, clutching at your stomach to push away the ill sensation, you stood fully, facing the door. Yoongi hesitated for a moment in front of you before opening it and leading you to the elevator. The ride down to the garage was silent, save for Yoongi shifting about in his suit. You wondered if he was as uncomfortable as you, but quickly pushed the thought away. He had no reason to be uncomfortable.

The drive over to the banquet hall was equally silent, with the only words being exchanged between Yoongi and the driver who was waiting in the garage. Your fingers were constantly picking at invisible seams in your lap and your eyes stayed trained on the window beside you, trying your hardest not to think about Yoongi on your other side.

He hadn’t said anything to you since you left the house, but you swore you could feel his eyes on you, which only made you more anxious. You had to continuously wipe your palms against the leather seats of the car and your dress to wipe off the sweat and his stare dug into you every time. Every few minutes or so, you’d consider trying to strike up conversation with him before thinking better of it, not wanting to face a judgemental or disgusted expression if he wore it.

After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at the building the gala was being held at, the driver politely informing you that he would be back to pick you up at your request. Yoongi exited first due to you having to adjust your dress so you could exit gracefully, and he surprised you by opening your door and offering his hand for extra balance.

The action made your cheeks heat before you remembered that you were in a public place now and he had to act the part of your husband. Reality crashed down on you, washing over you in a wave of bleakness, but you plastered on a submissive smile all the same. You took his hand, exiting the car, noticing Yoongi staring at your finger. You were about to question him before his gaze turned to you and his mouth formed a small smile.

“You look beautiful,” he said, quietly, much too quiet for anyone around you to hear. The words sent warmth straight to your face and leave you stuttering out a ‘thank you’. Yoongi didn’t release your hand as you walked into the banquet hall, nodding your greetings at the guests you see first. Your mother spotted you immediately and waved you over, with you and Yoongi obediently following.

“Good to see you could make it,” your mother said curtly, surveying your outfit. She only turned away afterwards, so you took that as your approval and discreetly tugged on Yoongi’s hand so you could move on. He got the hint, thankfully, and led you through the other standard greetings and pleasantries that were involved in events like these.

The questions were repetitive, to say the least.

“How are you two doing as a newly wedded couple?”

“How’s the business, Yoongi?”

“When are you two thinking of having kids?”

“Are you still working for that game company?”

It was exhausting, but Yoongi’s warm hand grasping your own grounded you. After about an hour, you’d made the rounds throughout the hall and Yoongi still hadn’t let go of you. But you weren’t complaining. A few times, you were offered champagne by a passing server, but you refused each time. Yoongi’s musky cologne was intoxicating enough.

Finally, you reached a point where you could relax, no longer having any old men or women to dish out backhanded compliments and you having to awkwardly laugh through them. Yoongi seemed to also feel the tension release, noticing his shoulders sag slightly and a deep breath exhale from his lips. He released your hand, making you frown, feeling like your palm was empty now, but you couldn’t protest aloud.

You figured that was the end of Yoongi’s image maintenance regarding your matrimony but his hand slid down the open back of your dress, erecting goosebumps in its wake. His fingers rested at the small of your back, gently guiding you to the group where Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon and Joohee stood talking. It rendered you speechless and you opted for silently following, with your brain working overtime to understand what was going on.

You arrived at the group, Joohee immediately sending a look regarding the placement of Yoongi’s hands, but you were unable to respond, still too flustered by the warm of his skin against your back. You bowed mutely in greeting to the rest of the people there, smiling at Namjoon who returned it widely.

“Where’s Yeonhee noona,” Yoongi asked, the mention of Seokjin’s wife pulling you into the conversation.

“She’s at home with Hwannie,” Seokjin responded, smiling brightly at the mention of his wife and son. Yeonhee had given birth a few months ago to a beautiful baby boy, Hwansoo, and Seokjin hadn’t really shut up about him since. You’d seen Yeonhee at your wedding and she’d looked equally as elated, practically glowing. “I wanted to stay back too, but she mentioned something about wanting me out of the house for quality time with Hwannie,” Seokjin finished, earning a laugh from the group.

Joohee was trying to silently communicate with you, asking whatever she could through shifts in her eyes and small head movements about your close proximity to Yoongi, but you had no answers. You hadn’t been expecting it either, Yoongi had taken the initiative to make physical contact. You could tell she was getting frustrated with your continued subtle shrugs before she looked behind you and cringed.

“Great, mom wants me to go over there, probably for another marriage talk,” Joohee groaned, inching behind her brother to avoid her mother’s piercing gaze, “I think that’s Lee Hyunsoo, too! Gross! He’s an ass.”

You frowned at the mention of Hyunsoo, a common figure among those who belittled you in your youth at parties just like these. You felt Yoongi shift beside you before speaking, “Yeah, he is an ass, he kept making weird comments to me throughout the reception last week. Good luck with that.”

Yoongi’s comment only made you frown further. You hadn’t really noticed Hyunsoo during your reception, much less him talking to Yoongi. You couldn’t think on it for long, though, having to wave a solemn goodbye to Joohee who began her trek over to her beckoning mother. Yoongi continued his conversation with Seokjin, talking about some sort of business thing happening, nothing you cared too much about, and you were left staring blankly around you.

“You look really pretty,” Namjoon said, drawing your attention, making you blush pink at his words.

“Thanks, so do you, Namjoon-ah,” you teased in response, making him grin and show off his deep dimples. You instantly relaxed in his comforting presence, but you were still aware of Yoongi’s burning palm against your skin.

“Oh, I meant to mention earlier today, you said you like plants, right? There’s this great plant shop in Samcheong-Dong that you should check out,” Namjoon began excitedly, making you recall your earlier conversation in which you had mentioned your plants at your apartment in passing.

“We should totally check it out! I’m always down to get more plants, although I probably shouldn’t,” you joked, letting yourself ease into the easy conversation.

“You can never have enough, or at least, that’s what I tell myself,” Namjoon chuckled, “There’s also another show next month for one of my favorite artists. Do you think you’d be up to check it out?”

You nodded, “Yeah, of course, I’d love to. Just send me the details.”

“I don’t think I actually got your number earlier,” Namjoon mentioned, scratching the back of his head and outstretching his hand holding his phone.

“Oh, right, that would probably help,” you smiled, taking it and entering your number. You handed it back to him, smiling, but noticed the troubled expression on his fact, looking just beside you.

Yoongi had stiffened next to you and you had been so absorbed in your conversation with Namjoon that you hadn’t noticed, or noticed the fact that Seokjin was gone now, talking to some other old businessman at another table.

“Have you two gotten close,” Yoongi asked, though he didn’t really sound like he was looking for an answer, with gritted teeth and his hand pushing into your back.

“Oh, um, we met at the art show earlier,” you said, looking at Namjoon to continue your thought.

“Ah, yeah, we ended up walking around together and we became friends,” Namjoon laughed, though it seemed a little stilted, “Your wife’s really nice, hyung.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi said curtly, before releasing you and stepping away, “I have to go speak to a couple other people. Could you keep an eye on her, Namjoon?”

The question made you gawk, feeling anger rise from your trembling fingers. You didn’t need someone to keep an eye on you, you were a grown woman, for God’s sake. You moved to retort Yoongi’s absurd request but he was already walking away. What even was that? Why was he being so weird? Maybe his niceness earlier was just a fluke. Turning to Namjoon in a huff, you took in his sheepish smile.

“I don’t really think you need babysitting, but I would like to talk more,” he offered kindly, making you release a breath and smile in return.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you agreed, following him to a nearby table where you spent the rest of the evening. The conversation was pleasant, almost making you forget Yoongi’s odd behavior, but your anger for him had only simmered. He had no right to act like you weren’t your own agent, no right to treat you like a child. His earlier pleasant interactions with you and electric contact against your back left you even more confused, only adding to your anger. His moodswings were beginning to give you whiplash.

You tried your best to focus in on your conversation with Namjoon for the rest of the night but you found your gaze drifting back to Yoongi. He was speaking with other men your father’s age, shaking hands and exchanging practiced polite smiles. He looked tired.

But what did you care? You shouldn’t care, he had been so rude earlier, but you knew you couldn’t help it. Maybe you’d ask Mrs. Lim to make his favorite meal on Monday when she came back.

The rest of the evening carried on uneventfully, with you and Namjoon making countless plans for shopping outings and art shows galore. He’d even managed to score tickets to an evening historical art museum tour, something you’d been wanting to attend for a while. Eventually, he had to leave, though, citing an early morning the next day, and hugged you goodbye. As he was doing so, he whispered in your ear, “I saw you put on the ring, I’m glad.”

His hot breath on your ear made your brain stutter but you mumbled out an acknowledgement, and he soon released you, waving goodbye as he walked toward the exit. The rest of the attendees were beginning to leave too, signalling the beginning of the end of the night. You sat glumly at your table, noting that Joohee had already left, having had a quiet argument with her mother that caused her to storm out.

You brought out your phone, making sure to message her asking if she was alright. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you looked up to see Yoongi staring down on you with an impassive expression.

“Are you ready to go?”

You neglected to respond, still feeling upset with his earlier words, and simply stood, waiting to be led to the car. Yoongi obliged, not flinching at your cold demeanor, and you both soon entered the car, riding home in silence.

During the drive home, your mind swirled with all sorts of questions regarding Yoongi’s behavior. His actions would likely point to jealousy surrounding Namjoon, but how did that make any sense? How could Yoongi harbor affection for you if he barely knew you? Especially if he seemed so opposed to the idea as well.

You like Yoongi even though you barely know him.

Your mouth upturned at the unwelcome thought. That wasn’t a fair comparison, you didn’t outwardly show any jealousy toward Yoongi’s other conquests. And there wasn’t even anything between you and Namjoon to begin with.

Well, mostly. You couldn’t deny the excitement you had when you saw him in the hall or the way you enjoyed speaking with him about everything and nothing throughout the art show and gala. But you weren’t going to think about that too hard right now.

The only logical conclusion you could draw was that your close friendship with Namjoon made him uncomfortable. He did say that he didn’t want you to mix personal lives at all. You almost empathized with that before remembering his condescending words earlier that evening, making anger surge through your blood once more.

Well, Yoongi could suck it. He didn’t get to dictate who you became friends with and he didn’t have any claim over his own friends, making them off-limits. You weren’t responsible for dealing with his childish feelings and immature attitude. That was all up to him.

It’s his problem to figure out why he’s acting so bizarrely.

Why was Yoongi acting so bizarrely?

He couldn’t understand. Why did he feel so possessive over you? It’s not like he felt any romantic attraction, he was the one to set the open relationship boundary after all. Why did it bother him so much that you were evidently so close to Namjoon now?

He breathed out a sigh, sitting idly in his studio upstairs, tired from the gala. Namjoon was one of his closest friends, they made music they’d never release together. He shouldn’t be upset that you’re becoming friends with him. He knew this rationally, but why did it still make him so uncomfortable?

As Yoongi leaned back in his chair, head upturned to the ceiling and eyes closed, his mind wandered to the few times he’d seen you in his home since the wedding. The morning after, you’d looked stunning, coming downstairs in nothing but the same shirt and shorts he’d seen you in the night prior, the cold air making him realize you weren’t wearing a bra. He’d averted his eyes at that point, feeling like he was encroaching on your privacy, even though you were in his kitchen.

Watching you realize your own attire and scramble upstairs to change had been cute, but Yoongi hadn’t wanted to entertain that thought. Either way, it was quickly replaced by the way your body felt against his as he reached above you for a mug. He couldn’t erase the sensation of your soft curves against his front from his mind.

When he’d arrived home in the middle of you redecorating, he wasn’t sure why he’d offered his help. Maybe he wanted to get a glimpse into your room, grasping at a chance to see your personality transferred to the decorations adorning your bedroom walls. He’d been surprised by how much he’d liked the cutesy embellishments you’d added, finding that the surprising duality suited you. You were so often carefully neutral in your expressions and words and seeing your personal taste being so pretty and pleasant was charming.

Later that night, he was surprised to see your bedroom light still on at the late hour when he’d left his room to get water. He peeked inside, seeing you lying on the floor in a mess of bolts, evidently trying to finish the last plank on your desk that was set up against the wall. The sight of you spread out so comfortably on the floor, hair strewn around your head almost framing your face like a halo, and your mouth partially open, letting out soft snores made him smile. He entered your room as quietly as he could, gently lifting you onto your bed and tucking you in, not even stirring you in your deep sleep.

He was about to leave when he stepped on a screw, making him flinch and look at the mess of things still left to do. If he’d finished up your desk and set up your TV, it was because he couldn’t stand a mess, not for any other reason. Not that you seemed to know based on your demeanor the next morning.

You’d looked adorable, coming down the stairs in rumpled clothing and tangled hair, your shirt’s neck slipping down your shoulder. But, he’d kept that thought to himself, behind pursed lips. You’d looked equally as beautiful in your cute brown dress that you’d worn to the art show, making him frown at his memory of being unable to tell you so.

Well, why should he? He’d been the one to separate you two so blatantly, after all. He shouldn’t give you mixed signals.

The thoughts of you in your loose and tight clothing, the image of you coming down the stairs in the silk dress that draped perfectly over your curves, and the tantalizing feeling of your skip against his palm had him leaning further back into his chair.

Maybe he was just horny.

Yoongi sat up, all of a sudden. That was totally it! He’s just distracted by you because he hasn’t been laid in a while. That had to be it. It couldn’t be anything else, he wouldn’t allow it to be.

Yoongi grinned, an easy smile taking over his face. Why was he so worried, the answer had been so simple. All he had to do was find a quick one night stand and his problems would be solved.

His grin faltered. Probably, his problems would probably be solved. He didn’t want to consider what it meant if they weren’t.

previous / masterlist / next

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outrogi · 1 year ago

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How do I even begin to express what this story made me feel?

Not only did it move me to the point that my tata plushy is gonna need a good wash from all the tears I let go of during my read sorry tata! but it had me reevaluating so much of myself personally

ah, gentle dreams..

There’s many things I’m taking with me after finishing this devastatingly beautiful story, but the main one is a reminder that even our yoongi irl always tells us:

Dreams don’t need to be grand to be important

There’s courage in dreaming, in choosing to dream even after heartbreak, even through loss and changes of plans, in letting go of dreams altogether for a while and let them reshape as we heal

Both dreams and courage take so many forms, neither is a one size fits all, one way to do it, or ever really go the way we think either

This story was so… fulfilling, gentle, soft, painful but in the most understanding way, and the longing my god

The playlist is absolutely so perfect to listen to while reading, giving the reader further insight on some scenes, I had it playing on repeat as I read and I’m pretty sure it gave even more fuel to my tears

Oh and the parallels of present and rewind chapters having essentially similar emotions as protagonists as the chapters progress is a such beautiful pace for the story! Such a wonderful detail giving a clearer look at their romance and the path that’s led then to where they are now

Gahhh, there were moments I was absolutely devastated, but was filled with such understanding of why things happened the way they did, even tho it hurt like hell

Beautifully written, so so breathtaking, this is another pair that will stay with me for a long, long time

I’ll finish this with a line said by one of the characters, perhaps it’s a semi-spoiler, but I couldn’t not share what had me sobbing like someone had just broken and mended my heart which technically, our dear author did with this story

“…Not in 10 years but now. Everyday. In this lifetime.”

All the love and praise to Mimi, always such a delight and privilege to read her work!

Belong (Series Masterlist) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Word count: 99.4k

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Maybe one day, in 10 years perhaps, or in another lifetime… Maybe then, we’ll finally choose us.

Playlist 🎶

A/N: Long-haired Yoongi in a basketball setting has not left my mind so here he is! This one’s a little emotional since I’m currently in an LDR to *pursue* my dreams so I hope you like it! 🫣🥹 No schedule of the posting this time (school/work is a little intense) so please just stay tuned. 😊

Part 01: Present day

1.5: Rewind

Part 02: Present day

2.5 Rewind

Part 03: Present day

3.5 Rewind

Part 04: Present day

4.5 Rewind

Post-credits

masterlist

#still crying yall. still crying. so is tata my bby i’m so sorry😭😭#i’m getting emotional just thinking of some scenes #AND YOONGI’S DAD AHHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH PLS #his shop sounded like the most comforting place on earth i just wanted a hug and a long chat from his old man. such a comfort character #the support group oc has too was so wonderful. every single role the boys had was just beautifully done #definitely another myg fave #THE WAY YOU FEEL THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER BDKSBDKDB #ITS SO PALPABLE. IN EVERY. MOMENT. TOGETHER!! Even in the sad ones :(#okay i’ll stop yelling in the tags but GO! READ! THIS!#myg #angst myg #fluff myg #smut myg #fav myg #fave myg #yes i’m still reading a bunch of yoongi fics. i’m still affected my d-day and tour 🫠 he’s just more dreamy than usual lately can ya blame m

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dollfaceksj · 1 year ago

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the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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hollyhomburg · 1 month ago

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.76)

Summary: Your Pre-heat fever builds and builds and builds until it breaks.

Tags: forced caretaking, Preheat, scenting, nesting, mindless fluff, hurt/comfort, omega/omega content, possessive behavior, omegaspace, lactation kink, Jin's hormones briefly convince him that the m/c is his actual pup, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, tummy worship?, nipple play, manhandling, heavy petting, fingering, exhibitionism, jk gets a little pussy obsessed, slight jk focus, slick marking, a tiny bit of ass play, slight painplay, implied/foreshadowed womb fucking, hole check, gentle spanking, dom! namjoon, d/s,

W/c: 12.3k

A/n: so it's once again birthday pup time for me! i'm going to be turning twenty eight! i can't believe it's my birthday already! as with my usual birthday tradition- i have made a little amazon wish list. it's been three years since I first did this and my room is littered with the little things you guys have gotten me over the years. I still sleep under the big duvet you guys got me and it's my favorite thing <3 the love you guys give me during my birthday always leaves me feeling warm for months.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jungkook’s whole face is parked between your thighs, sweaty cheeks, chiseled jaw resting uncomfortably against your hip bones, Curling locks and all.

That’s the first thing that alerts you to the pack's predicament when you begin to wake up the next morning in the heat nest. There are raised voices nearby. Someone is upset, not angry. But upset.

A wide back rumbles behind you, and the uneasy scents dissipate.

All of your stuffed animals are piled around you, your jellycats and the special extra soft ones that Jimin and Tae got you. You can distantly remember reaching for them sometime during the early morning and whining. Yoongi’s voice pitched low and sweet.

“This one little lovely? How about this one?” a finger rubs against your cheek, running through your peach fuzz accompanied by a quiet hum of approval. “My broody little omega, just wanna keep all your small and cute things safe huh? So soft and little. Just wanna show the alphas that you can take care of small things in your nest, right?”

You remember whining and nuzzling, trying to tell him without words (words are so so hard in omegaspace) that you didn’t really care about showing the icky alphas resting too close in the hallway. All you care about is showing him.

Now as you wake, things are less simple. There are tense voices and scents all around you. A tangle of them no longer sour but still alpha. Jin has not let them into the nest yet but you're starting to need them- starting to think that even if they are icky you might as well just…be close to them. Something small and furry and desperate claws for them in your chest. For Namjoonie, Hobi, Jiminie, and Tae Tae Tae- in your chest. A need that had been quiet yesterday but is loud today.

The need for her rises up now like a rabid animal. Tae Tae Tae. All in your head. At least you think it might be all in your head- you can feel your mouth moving and someone coming close. A silky pant leg brushes your thigh as she starts to move only to get held back.

"You shouldn't- Tae- Jin will get mad."

Your instincts quiet at the sound of them and you begin to wake. You're not in heat yet. Not yet, but the fever is building. A slow drip starting to spill out around the edges. The surface tension in your being trembling and twitching. Burning through you and turning your mind crumbly and hazy at the edges.

“How’s her temperature?” You hear a distant voice ask. Joonie alpha. Your mind identifies.

You feel a wide familiar palm against your forehead. Your throat. “Still a little cold- thank you Jinnie- what a good omega keeping our pup warm.” More fluffy blankets get dumped on top of you and you feel like you’re buried beneath layers and layers of clouds. The shimmering delight on the edge of your instincts. a high keening sound and a low alpha growl.

They don't smell quite so rancid as they did yesterday but they still smell sour. You have a sinking feeling it has nothing to do with their pheromones or hormones and more to do with the moment. What they’re discussing.

But what could they ever possibly have to be afraid of? Your alphas are awfully strong and protective of you. In a nest so lovely and so soft there is nothing that could possibly hurt you. Jinnie made it so well you're half convinced it could keep monsters out.

You feel a hiss building in your throat at the idea of a particular monster. Distant in your memories but never far for long. The ickiest of alphas. Never. You rub your face harder into the object to your left. A sensation- a finger trails down your scent gland, touching where it aches. Nudging a whine from your throat.

But there is nothing at all bad here…Besides Kookie.

He's so sweaty and sticky that it's a little bit gross. It wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't laying all of his body weight into you and pressing his face anywhere your skin is bare. He clings, his hands sliding under your behind and hips to hold you close, face pressed to a spot that makes you shiver from the intensity, the sensitiveness, that every breath makes against your barely covered tummy.

Jungkook noses first into your navel and then lower. Little breaths of air and his chin tickling where you’re most sensitive. The scent of slick is cloying on the air, you have no idea if it’s his or yours or Jin’s.

Huh, That's a little strange.

Jungkook's not usually so clingy with you in the morning. Usually, he reserves this particular trend of endless nuzzling for the alphas. He's holding you so tight that you couldn't even squirm away if you wanted to, rubbing his cheek over and over again along your thighs, your stomach, your pussy.

He rubs his cheek along the space between your thigh and hip and purrs. Loud and rumbly, vibrating against your front. You reach down sleepy, brushing his hair away from his face. You wish the alphas would let him sleep- but the sound of tense voices is making you feel sensitive and whiney.

"I can smell it hyung, don't tell me you can't- and look at the way he's-”

Jungkook turns and snaps his teeth at them and they fall silent. You lift up your head a little.

Jin's perched on the edge of the nest half in Namjoon’s lap. The pack alpha leans against the doorway as Jin dozes against his throat. Tae mirrors them on the other side of the pocket French doors. Wrapped in a duvet from one of the decoy nests and clutching a steaming cup of coffee.

A glass jug of electrolyte mix sits between them and a few cups of coffee leave rings on the floor. Colorful plastic cups stacked nearby. Steam rising in sweet ribbons. Hobi stands there in the doorway, stretches, and yawns. Revealing inches of toned tummy that your eyes fixate on. Distantly you remember, "one sip of caffine isn't going to hurt Jinnie, Namjoon."

"Sorry pups- we didn't mean to wake you-" Tae is in bright red pj's, the kind patterned with small dark flowers, silky and impenetrable. You want them in the nest the second you see them. But- but-

You look down, and Jungkook's cheeks are just as red. Flushed and sweaty. His hips cocked at a weird angle; one leg hitched up in a position that looks wrong. He looks like he’s uncomfortable.

“Koo?” You ask, but he just lets out a small chirp. “What? Why are you-”

A hand in your hair makes you look up. Jimin is standing there, pursing his lips, looking down at you conflicted. Light streams in through a crack in the gauzy curtains, cutting across his waist, the spot where his shirt rides up on his hips revealing inches of honey skin and the line of his hipbones.

Your blunt omega teeth feel precariously sharp in your mouth. Two parts wanting and one part terror. Jimin, alpha, alpha in the nest. Alpha in the heat nest, alpha alpha alpha.

Jimin knows your terror, letting his shoulders slump and his scent spill out- unthreatening. Your panic eases away. “I was just fixing the curtains. They were making Jinnie uneasy.” The pack omega says nothing, settling up on Namjoon’s shoulder, looking like he’s falling asleep too. A strip of pale blue spring sky is visible only through the very top of the curtains.

“Minnie? What’s wrong with Koo? Why is he?” Jimin’s small smile falters, and you can tell he doesn’t want to say it. Whatever it is that the alphas were talking about.

Behind you, a warm chest moves, it's Yoongi. Soft and firm against your back. His chest expanding buffers you like gentle waves during a summer storm, gentle and lulling. It’s very hard to stay awake. So warm and so cuddled.

But Jungkook…

Your mate's voice is low in your ears, but his hand joins yours in pushing Jungkook's hair away from his sweaty face. Pinching his cheeks until Jungkook's tongue lolls out, licking Yoongi's fingers. It's lewd and it's hungry. You squirm back against Yoongi and at the smell of your slick.

So close to Jungkook's face, that you can't avoid it being scented on the air. A lax grin stretches Jungkook’s face, eyelashes fluttering, his smile dopey and out of it.

Yoongi's voice is rough from disuse, making your stomach swoop. Jungkook pushes against Yoongi's touch trying to get back to your stomach back between your legs. Chirping and trilling his displeasure. Trying to burrow and nuzzle through Yoongi’s hands unsuccessfully.

“Koo was feeling a little left out.”

“No,” you whisper, your stomach dropping for a whole other reason. Surprise making you lucid. “Really?”

Jungkook blinks, pouting. A little dazed. “I fucking hate cramps. Hyung- let go-” Yoongi lets Jungkook’s face go and he plants himself right back between your thighs. Nuzzling and shuffling until you let him closer. His face lowers to get closer to where you’re most sensitive. You try and stop him but Jungkook growls and you quiet.

The alpha’s watch as Jungkook nuzzles between your legs, nothing more than a thin layer of fabric to keep the smell of slick and all of where you’re most sensitive from Jungkook. Cheek squished against your pussy, soft breaths tickling your inner thigh. Jungkook settles and huffs.

Jimin runs a finger down your cheek but you hardly notice, still looking down at Jungkook, an upset pout already forming on your face.

"Oh," you're almost teary-eyed with it. You can't imagine Jungkook feeling as sensitive, as scared, as needy as you feel. It's upsetting, the fact that your nestmate is feeling so- so…and you can't- that he’s going into heat and you’re not-

You understand why Jin got upset yesterday. Having nestmates is different than having alphas or mates. There is a special corner of your instincts dedicated to taking care of them that hates this; all going into heat at the same time.

A smaller more wicked voice whispers other things, facts you dare not voice;

If alpha knocks you all up at once then you can all be pretty and round in the nest together. You can get all sweet with milk at the same time as Jungkook and Jin. It would be so easy- being pupped with Jungkook and Jin. Your sensitive sensitive tummy feels so unsafe, like this, Jungkook sleepily pulling up your shirt so that all of the alpha’s can see.

You shouldn’t be like this- you should both be belly down in the nest, you need to hide it from the alpha’s and leave it just for your nestmates to touch. Guarding you- that's what jungkook is doing. keeping your tummy safe from the alpha's until he deems you ready to be bred by them.

You want it. All of you safe and round and full, claimed by your alpha's in a way that sticks. You should stay close to him- make sure that alpha breeds him proper. All of them should breed Jungkook at least once just to make sure it takes.

Yoongi sets a hand over your stomach, and Jungkook tries to nip at it, to keep him away. Yoongi just pushes at his nose, a little playful. Jungkook grins, panting through his teeth. "Calm down pup, it's okay, Jungkook's gonna be fine. all three of your heats is nothing we can't handle."

Behind you, Tae snorts. hobi pinches her arm in repremand and she swats his hand away.

You nod wetly, but it’s hard to quiet your sniffles. Jimin leaves the nest, carefully stepping over the border so that he doesn't mess it up. Hoseok grabs his arm to steady him. Mindful of Jin’s boundaries that get momentarily tread over as Namjoon picks him up, helping with the aid of Tae and Jimin, to get Jinnie back into the nest.

With all of them looming over you, you feel incredibly small. looking and watching hungrily as they gently puppet the pack omega and lie him down. kind of on top of your plushie pile- but you don't mind- that's why you made it anyways. Jin sleepilly starts to tug them close, the soft and small things clutched to his chest.

The alpha's linger above you. looking down and watching. their feet depressing the nest where they stand.

Jungkook sighs against your thigh. "S'okay, at least now it's all of us together."

Omegaspace isn’t something you’ve seen on Jungkook as frequently as you would have liked. But there’s a childish pout to his lips. Cute, that you want to kiss at. Want to nibble. "Alphas don't even need to help- just Jinnie and me and Yoomi."

That gets a laugh out of the rest of them, Yoomi is a new nickname for your mate that leaves him smiling a little. You look up at him, eyes drooping and struggling to stay awake. You happen to agree but words are hard so you just settle for purring. Behind Jimin, you can see Hobi watching, smiling.

Jimin leans around the doorway and raises his eyebrow at Jungkook, as far as he dares to go into the nest room without permission. "You'll be begging for my knot later for that pup."

Jungkook huffs, "Won't, promise, not gonna ask for an icky-smelling alpha."

Jimin cocks head, "Is that so? Then maybe I should only knot Jinnie and her if you're so sure you won't need it."

Jungkook seems to second guess himself, "hyung wait- you can knot me just not-"

"I'm just teasing."

Jungkook huffs, nuzzling back between your legs, "meanie"

It feels strange, not necessarily sexual- having Jungkook's face pressed between your legs. There's a zing of pleasure at the touch, sure, but Yoongi holds your hips and keeps you still so that Jungkook can get comfortable. Holding you stationary so that you won't move against the feeling of his nose nuzzling over your underwear.

His low voice is husky in your ear as he whispers, “That’s it pup, let Jungkookie and then you can- there you go. No- No rubbing. Be a good pup and settle.”

You feel yourself clench weakly and when you open your eyes, Namjoon is watching you from the doorway. Eyes dark and scent unrepentantly sweet and musky. You don’t mind him watching. The sight of all of his omegas in a heat nest is one that he’s allowed to indulge in. Tae too- wraps around his arm with her head resting on his shoulder.

Every minute the alpha’s are allowed closer, last night they weren’t allowed in the doorway, now, one at a time in the nest. It’s only a matter of time before all bets are off and they’re all allowed here.

Jungkook settles once he finds the right spot on your plush thigh. His warm breath easing away the remaining ache in your core. The cramps are better now but not entirely gone yet. Your body preparing itself for your alpha's, making room for their cocks and their knots.

You wonder if you'll be able to take Namjoon's unprepped. You're almost dizzy with the thought of it. You wonder what it's going to feel like- having him fuck you through your heat along with Jungkook and Jin. Namjoon's knot would be the best- the exact things your cramps need. Soon the cramping will fade and the need to be filled will take its place, you can already feel it a little.

Namjoon watches Jungkook nuzzle, you part your thighs further to show and-

Yoongi's teeth bite into the back of your neck, the same second Jungkook’s clamp on your inner thigh, not hard- just enough for you to feel it.

Yoongi's words swallow your whine. "Calm pup- not yet- not until the pack omega says you can." Not until I say you can.

Even having the alphas a little too close could trigger your heat too soon. They're doing their best, trying to stay away. With Jin and Jungkook the risk of triggering a heat isn't quite so scary. But with you, it’s a little unpredictable. The last thing they want to do is have it come too quick.

Jungkook is a good omega. He won't let any alphas come close until Jin says so. Literally guarding your stomach and womb from a knot. It's a little cute, even if it is a little lewd. He grumbles out something unintelligible before he huffs one final time and goes back to sleep. Shuffling his hips, a little, legs splaying like he's trying to alleviate the ache there a little.

There is some murmuring, the rest of them talking over each other while you look down at Jungkook and comb through his hair, Yoongi's fingers dancing across his jaw, hovering on his lower lip, and Jungkook returns to nuzzling into your stomach.

“Three omegas in heat- how are we going to do this?”

Tae's hand grips Jimin's, squeezing hard as they stand in the nest. Namjoon fluffs a blanket over Jin's back. the pack omega's hands deftly tangling with a stuffed bunny you have. ordinarily- jin would never cuddle with your stuffed animals like this- but it fills you with a sense of soft chagrined. The pack omega can want these things, can like these things, nesting doesn't always have to be about protecting- it can just feel nice too.

It doesn't have to be scary, it's feeling less scary already. you don't mind that the alpha's are here, standing around you three and yoongi.

“We’ll manage, same way we always do.” She turns, hair fluffing, she's taken it out of her rollers already and it falls in soft waves. She looks soft, looks like she belongs in the nest. You're glad she's here. You crane your neck and Tae notices, stooping slightly to touch your cheek.

"Mommy alpha? Please?" you start, and behind you, Yoongi mutters a curse.

Tae says nothing, a gentle smile spreading her cheeks, touch your cheek. They're doing alot of that- you wonder why? Your cheeks feel awfully pink and feverish, sensitive there.

The alphas are starting to smell nicer, very very nice, not sweet and cloying like Jin and Jungkook- but musky and tempting. You nuzzle into Tae’s wrist, nose searching for more of the scent. Her fingers itch towards the back of your neck. A scruff would make you so pliant and docile- and she wants to hear you squeak and purr more- like last night.

But Jungkook sits up, eyes beady, snapping his teeth. His hiss loud, "Mine" he's crouched low, prepared to pounce, mouth cleaved open in a snarl- guarding the nest and you. Tae's eyes go wide and Namjoon grabs her around her wrist.

"Kookie-" Namjoon tries to start, but Jungkook just hisses again.

You feel like you're further along than Jungkook is in your pre-heat, the restlessness in you quieted to a tired hum. You comb your hands through his hair as the alpha's make themselves scarce. Tae sends you a long look over her shoulder, mouthing "Sorry pup."

Beside you. Jin sleeps on, a big big big stuffed animal of yours that you might have scented in a daze half asleep (sleep nesting- similar to sleepwalking) pinned under his body. Jin stays asleep unaware of the snapping and light squabbles. Chest rising and falling underneath a cut of sunlight.

The alphas take it in stride, giving Jungkook space. You doze in between minutes, turning sideways to tuck your face into Yoongi's throat and hide from the sunlight. The springtime sunshine streams through the window all yellow and golden. You listen to the distant thunder of your alpha's speaking. Yoongi shuffles out from under and behind you and whispers softly that he'll be back in a minute. You only grumble quietly, and listen to his conversation with the others in the hall.

The soft smacking sound of kisses. "Sorry did we-"

Jungkook nuzzles into your stomach. Distracting you from the conversation in the hall. "No, just need coffee,"

You close your eyes and breathe and when you open your them you can watch the dustmotes swirl above you. Catching the light.

"Thank you- I'm sorry we didn't-" Jimin cuts himself off.

"It's find- Koo just-" Yoongi makes a disconcerting noise. Not a trill but a question without an answer. "You okay?"

If Jimin answers, you can't see it. The world slipping away under the guise of sleep.

"Koo's is hitting quick." that sentence gets no answer. No acknowledgment.

They’re unsure when exactly it will hit either by tonight or tomorrow morning if you’re lucky. You don’t need to ask what the alphas did last night, but as you listen to them in the hall- rolling up some blankets (a decoy nest sacrificed for a sleeping spot.)

You gather that either one or all of them slept outside of the door last night, guarding the door and keeping you safe from any potential intruders. The only people who are allowed to freely come and go is of course- Noodle and Yoongi.

You must nod off at one point, because the next time you wake Jungkook has pulled himself up a little, head resting just below your ribs and Jin is lifting his head up out from under your stuffed animal pile. Sighing sleepily he scents Jungkook’s preheat on the air, dragging himself close to rub a soothing hand down Jungkook’s back. Looking down at the other omega and biting his lips.

At the pack omega's closeness, jungkook's arms tighten around your waist. “They’re not going to hurt us Koo, you can let go.” Jungkook's arms only tighten around your waist further in answer.

“Can’t! Something bad is gonna happen if I let go!” Jin sighs, and you try and tell him with your eyes that it’s fine- that Jungkook can stay right here like this if it helps him, you really don’t mind.

He leans over you, pressing his nose to your scent gland but you make a noise and pull away. “Your face is scratchy.”

Jin sits back on his heels, rubbing at his face almost angry, frustrated “God damn it.”

“Come on hyung you love my heats-”

Jin scoffs, “Yeah but you-“ he seems to get ahold of himself. He pulls himself over to your and Jungkook’s quiet cuddle. Your legs, Jungkook's, Jin's. You don't know why you're still so tired, even after sleeping the whole night and most of the morning away, exhaustion pulls you down like a lead weight.

The next time you come to your mate's hands pet through your hair and ask if any of you need anything. Yoongi feeds you sips of that electrolyte mix, rubbing across your jaw to get you to swallow down all of it. Clumsy with sleep, a bit of it dripping down your chin that Jungkook eagerly licks at. Lapping at the salt from your lips when you're done in reward.

But the three of you doze, three sleepy omega’s in a nest with little care to the world of the clattering outside in the kitchen and the smell of cooking food. Bread maybe? Pancakes?

Something sweet and syrupy eventually gets pressed against your lips, a strong arm around your waist, a soft croon- one of your alpha’s but it’s hard to tell who that says, “Open up- good puppy.”

Yoongi practices his massage on Jungkook- pushing aches out of all of you with his thumbs and his laughter. You and Jin share the heating pad after breakfast. Pressed first over Jin’s lap and then yours as you press closer and closer until your stomach is pressed up against Jin’s.

Nesting with them is sort of your favorite thing. You don't even mind that the alpha's have joined you in the nest during breakfast. They're still careful and they're still mindful. But it doesn't feel so scary- having them close.

To be pressed belly to belly with your pack omega makes you feel so small your eyelids droop further. Hands loosely tangled with Jin's shirt, his tank top too- one like Hobi's.

Hobi who gets up after breakfast, hair fluffed from a thorough scenting. Jungkook is really good at scenting, knows just how to rub his cheek into the alpha’s until they’re blushing and smelling musky. He’s very intent and particular with it and squirms closer and closer to them until Namjoon detangles him and tells him off.

Hobi sees a break in it and leaves the nest, something you're not allowed to do. Every time you even think to shift away from Jin, he tugs you closer.

“Pup, my pup,” Jin’s going in and out of lucidity, and he cradles you to his chest, eyes dark pools, pupils completely dilated. Hands grasping at your waist, your back, the back of your neck urging you lower, not too low- not in that way.

Jin stops around his heart, tugging you to his chest. Whining. “Pup too tiny, pup needs- I need-”

He holds you there, hand around the back of your neck. Your lips smushed against his skin. Your face pressed to his chest so close you can feel every thump of his heartbeat. You don't understand what Jin is trying to get you to do, at least not immediately.

Yoongi is there, it’s a good thing that he’s there. he takes Jin’s hands away from you and squeezes them. You blink blearily- unaware of just what Jin hints at, his whines of distress and near chirps that Yoongi shushes.

“Jinnie, baby- she is not actually your pup, you’re not-“ He sounds stressed. You want to tell him that you don’t mind but your words are hard to summon. Jin smells so good, his milky cream omega scent impossibly bright against your nose, almost citrussy.

“You don’t have milk sweet thing.”

You know that the instincts to protect and provide for pup and packmate get a little crossed in heats and ruts- but you never imagined that Jin would want to. Your toes curl, and full-body shivers erupt on your skin. Your eyes shoot open, immediately making eye contact with Yoongi- who looks stricken with something that looks an awful lot like arousal. Jin's chest heaves beneath you and he starts to tear up. Lower lip wobbling.

The heat beneath your skin bubbles up to meet him, and soon you'll melt away into nothing but sticky goey omega- you're sure of it. The embarrassment you feel at his urging is only quieted by the comfort you find in his touch, the way he holds you steady and tight. Almost captive. The idea of Jin- of your pack omega- doing that is-

Jin's big eyes are filling with tears, you have no doubt he’d be stomping his feet if he was standing if Yoongi wasn’t gently whipping those same tears away. Is this omegaspace? Is this what Jinnie looks like when he falls soft and sweet just as you do?

You have to help, you have to make him stop crying, filling the air with a rancid scent that's so different from his usual scent that it makes you want to cry too.

You nuzzle closer to his throat, where he's still sweet sweet milky. Lying your weight on his chest, he hisses at the sensitivity of having his nipples brush your shirt and you whimper too. Equally as sensitive there. Your hormones spiking wildly.

But you follow your instincts and the animal lurking beneath your skin that tells you to get your mouth on your pack omega and suck. Suckling on Jinnie’s scent gland, squishy and swollen under your teeth. Worrying away at it between your teeth.

That seems to settle him a bit, he goes lax under you almost instantly, sighing, coming up to cup the back of your head, urging you closer until you go dizzy with it. "Good omega- good little pup." Yoongi wipes a little saliva from your cheek, and your eyelashes flutter.

"The alphas- the alphas next- have to make sure everyone is taken care of- have to s'my pack, my pups." Jinnie babbles.

You wait until he settles and falls back asleep before you stop sucking at his skin and sit up. A little hazy at the edges. Pulling away. You've left several small red marks in your wake.

You’re starting to feel a little restless. Yesterday you’d thought that you could spend the rest of the month asleep and now? Now you fidget. Every time you try and leave the nest the alphas are there, corralling you back to it but you can’t help it. You want to look closer at Jin’s decoy nests in the hall, and the kitchen. You want to hunt down Noodle and maybe brush him a little. Brush him and give him treats and keep him closer and-

You hear the others smile when you say that, babbling mindlessly about this and that. And you know that it’s just your omegan nesting instincts, they’re the same instincts that you feel when you braid Jungkook’s hair, Tae’s too- perched on the edge of the nest. Keeping it away from their faces. Pressing your body along Tae’s side, hands guided by Jungkook, the three of you eat more breakfast to bulk up for the heat, for when you'll want little else but to fuck and be fucked.

But when your bellies are well and truly full, you roughhouse and play as pups do.

Jungkook pushes you down as you tease him by biting into his watermelon before he has a chance to steal the best bite, and he leans low to nip, imitating an alpha growl. It’s a way you’ve play wrestled before, an imitation of the way that Hobi and Jimin and Namjoon fight.

Only sometimes with Tae, less since she’s transitioned and she's deemed herself too delicate for alpha wrestling. You happen to agree.

She doesn't feel delicate when she drags you back by your hips, ignoring the way that they splay almost curious, when she lands a swat over your behind. Not that Jungkook gets any better treatment. Sides drawn over Namjoon's lap, giggling and squirming as half a dozen swats are dispensed over his behind. Just as zoomy as you are. Zoomy but sleepy.

The alphas are keeping an eye out for any sexual contact. “You’ll make it come too quick Koo- for both of you” Namjoon picks up Jungkook and put him back in the nest, away from you and not in the hall. Pouting up at your alpha.

"But hyung- we need to do something other than nap."

"Fine, you can go to the kitchen," Jungkook had perked up at that, "but not a walk Koo, I'm serious, if you were to go for a run right now, I'm not sure all of us could hold Jiminie back."

instincts chaff in strange ways. things that never would ordinarily irritate your alphas turn into grand offenses. like Clanging from the kitchen that comes with a loud shout and puttering feet. as if on queue jimin shouts from a room over.

"The mailman! The fucking mailman just put stuff in our mailbox! I should- I could-"

Tae leans out the door to shout down the hallway. Far away you hear noodle hiss- somewhat agreeing with Jimin’s frustrations.

"Jiminie- calm down, he's just doing his job, he's not here for our omega's."

Our omega's. You like the sound of that. You like the way Tae says it. 'Ours' has a nice ring to it. Relinquished briefly from your exhaustion and with permission- You and Jungkook are free from the nest- enough movement to sate your zoomies.

But not before a bath.

The alphas corral you one by one. You first, Jin second, and Jungkook last into the bathroom upstairs.

You're carried by Jimin and placed there (he almost drops you on the stairs because of how you nuzzle into his throat, his sensitive spot between his collar bones, and the skin over his pulse point is so tempting you can't resist a little nibble.) Tae follows close behind, watching the way your eyebrows pull together, peaking over Jimin's shoulder, teeth buried in his collar bones, and laugh. "Is Minnie yummy baby?"

You just bite down harder, and Jimin curses. His hands and arms remain firm and wrapped around you. Jimin would never drop you.

Huh, you should exploit that.

The shower is unexpectedly docile. Your wandering hands kept from wandering anywhere fun by Jimin's touch around your wrists. he holds you still no matter how much you whine and try to pull them out of his hands. You want to touch but they won't let you.

You try to peer at their knots but Tae picks up your chin and makes you look at just Jimin. You blink water out of your eyes. Jimin puts both your hands in one of his fists and then pushes his wet hair back from his face.

"If you look at us like that pup- what happens next won't be good. We have to make your heat come gentle."

"Gentle" you parrot weakly. Dazed. Shivering beneath the warm spray.

You whine and fight, but Jimin knows- senses you're doing it not to get away but because you like being held, like being manhandled and told what to do. You like the physical reminder that you’re not in control. It's like the play fighting- an imitation of something instinctual.

You squirm until you give in. Tae asks you to move and you move without thinking. Tae asks you to lift your arms and you lift your arms. Every “good pup” makes your brain hazy and your skin hum. Their pheromones are so thick in the air that you swear you can see them swirl. So close and confined to your alpha's your brain falls into a fugue state, almost trancelike.

Tae soaps up your body, cleaning you efficiently, trying not to linger, but it's hard when you keen at every touch, especially your chest, jolting in sensitivity. "I'm sorry pup- oh you're achy here? Mommy promises to kiss them better later." You like the idea of that. You curl close in Jimin's arms while Tae washes your hair. Hissing at every faint brush to your chest.

Places on you are sensitive that never were sensitive before. Your lower back, your chest, your throat. Tae drags the soap into circles and it feels like you spiral down and down. You know you'll be able to scrape together your brain later, but every time you go down into omegaspace it gets a little bit harder to come up for air. Your tether on your lucidity is flimsy at best. As effervescent as soap bubbles.

Jimin gives you light kisses for every order that you follow. his grip on your wrists slowly loostens until he's drawing your arms around his neck and holding you under your behind. "can't have you slipping pup." he says, voice low.

Jimin like you, has trouble speaking through his instincts. but when you open your eyes, he's watching you, keeping you steady and still for tae's touch.

and touch she does, indulging in it. soapy fingers dip low and scrub, inefficent but slow. a soft pleasure that warms you from the inside out, your stays perfectly relaxed. even as you mewl softly. jerking when tae uses the detachable showerhead to wash away the soap suds.

It feels sort of good- getting to scent and talk to and see Tae and Minnie one-on-one like this. Even if seeing them is more like falling asleep under the spray and talking to them is more like whining for your mommy until she gives you stupid chaste kisses to your cheek or forehead.

You tell her they're stupid kisses if they're not on your lips, and she rewards you with a raised eyebrow.

Omegaspace is deceptively hard to get out of, so you stop trying.

Eventually, the water stops falling around you and they help you out, drying off your body with your eyes closed. Arms loosely wound around Jimin’s neck. Tae pinches your cheeks, and you open your eyes before you open your mouth.

You feel like you're hearing everything through water. Yoongi is there and so is Namjoon, watching you with dark eyes, neither afraid nor hungry. tae says something that slips in one ear and out the other. Yoongi holds clothes for you. Just a single shirt, no pants or underwear.

Your body is too sensitive, and won't take or tolerate any more clothes than that- and only if it's his. It will get worse when you're in heat and your body won't be able to take anything touching it but the softest pillows.

Tae pinches your cheeks open gently. There is an orange bottle sitting there on the counter gathering condensation. Dark ink on the side reads 'for emergency uses only.'

You make eye contact with him as Namjoon puts the pill on your tongue.

Feeds you a bit of water, and closes your mouth, stroking your throat until he feels you swallow.

Bitter, It tastes bitter, rancid almost. Your body does not want whatever this pill offers- that you're sure of. You try to fight it, try to pull back, and spit it out. Jimin's rough fingers stroke your throat.

Namjoon puts a hand over your mouth so that you can and Namjoon growls low. "Swallow." You feel the command in your belly, your knees go weak, and you swallow without thinking. They let you go, Jimin sets you down, but still has to hold you up, your legs shaking like a newborn fawn.

"Was that?" You ask, dazed. Your words not making much sense. Yoongi puppets your arms through the holes of a shirt, pulling your wet hair out, stopping it from sticking to the back of your neck like he knows you hate.

"A contraceptive." Namjoon says, "We just have to be sure." You take greedy breaths of his scent. When he takes you from minnie, holding you up. Dizzy, unable to stand if he wasn’t holding you.

"I know pup, I know. Jinnie and Jungkook have to take them too." And when your whines don't cease. "One day" he promises. The rest of your alphas cast dangerously hungry looks over the top of your head.

But things like children, like pups, are not something you've discussed in any detail and with any certainty. Maybe with Yoongi and Tae every now and then. But you haven’t talked about pups like the rest of them have. Not lucidly. You're not thinking clearly right now, you only want pups because of the heat. No other reason.

Still, you pout up at Namjoon upset. Even while he carries you back downstairs, through the quiet house, past noodle sleeping belly up in his favorite window spot, past your shoes organized neatly by the door and to the heat nest. His arms hardly strain as he gets on his knees and then puts you down.

You keep your arms around his neck, looking at him, and Namjoon lets you.

“Mad at me?” You ask, eyes wide and worried, “don want Joonie to be mad at me.” You are so sensitive and sweet in omegaspace.

Namjoon is keenly aware of Yoongi behind him, he’s still a little angry about the car thing. But Namjoon just rubs his cheek against yours in an attempt at mollifying you. “Never mad at you- promise. Never.”

He tries to pull back but you don't let him. The nest is empty except for Jungkook, watching the two of you with wide dark eyes. You think Jinnie must be in the kitchen with your alpha's. You can hear them talk, hear Jin hiss, "I don't need you to carry me Minnie- yes I'm sure."

Namjoon cocks his head at you. Blinking softly. “Would a…” you nuzzle, and Joonie temporarily quiets, his scent thickening as you shuffle forward and settle onto his lap. “Would a punishment help?”

“Puppishment” Jungkook giggles from nearby, hair all ruffled and mused from rubbing his face into some of your plushies. He must like the way that the word fits in his mouth because he says it again and again, in a little singsong voice. “Puppishment pupishment pupishment” he giggles, and you join in laughing.

Namjoon smiles, looking down at the two of you, setting a hand on either of your heads and petting through your hair, you and Jungkook giggle and press your cheeks together. Your giggles quiet and you peer up at Yoongi in the doorway, sipping at a cup of something (coffee maybe? because he hadn't slept well last night- too busy watching over you) waiting until he nods. Giving you permission.

“Maybe? Gentle? just a little pupishment.” Namjoon hums, agreeing.

You go easily and without any squirming, draped over his lap. No need to pull anything down, no panties, nothing underneath your big shirt. At last one of your alpha's is letting you go belly down. You cling to Namjoon’s thighs, almost dizzy with it- the vulnerability and safety in your position.

You can feel yourself dripping, ever so slightly onto your upper thigh and probably Namjoon's leg. you are always so wet and now is no exception. Namjoon has to notice, his fists tightening for a second at the strength it takes him to hold back.

You can feel his restraint in every touch as he starts to rub, taking gentle handfuls of your behind in his big hands, groaning deep.

“Gentle huh? You just want it soft like that right? Soft like you are. thats why you let us do everything for you right? You just want everything soft and good and sweet like you.”

You suddenly cling to Namjoon’s thigh under your chest, almost looking back at him, tucking your face into the covers of the nest and breathing out at the intensity as he strokes over your behind, up and down.

The actual spanks aren’t anything like you’ve gotten before. Namjoon simply lays his hand against your skin a little quicker than a gentle touch. It makes more noise than anything else. And yet your fingers tangle weakly with the nest as he goes. He doesn’t even make you count them.

He doesn’t spend time touching you there or lower to tip you over into outright arousal although even with his restraint you’re embarrassingly close to cumming by the time he pulls back and sets his hand gently over your warmed bottom. Not even pink he’s been so gentle.

He flips you over, and you stare up at him, eyes dazed and glassy. It’s almost like he’s trying to make sure you don’t get too worked up. Despite the half-hardness you can feel first pressing into your stomach, and now, hard and long against your spine. Namjoon isn't rushing this.

Namjoon doesn't pull your shirt down yet, hiked up to just under your breasts. You rub your knees together and his nostrils flare at the smell of slick, he glances down, then back up at you. Your toes curl.

Jk lunches forward to nip at your ankle. Giggling softly. Jk leans his head between your legs and looks.

Namjoon sets his palm against your stomach, and you hiccup. Namjoon’s hands are so big his thumb and pinky stretch from hipbone to hipbone. Your waist is hardly dainty- not anymore- but you feel utterly small when Namjoon looks down at you, jaw rolling, growling out husky, “better?”

You nod, unable to speak or else risk something- some confession of plea that you’re not ready for. Your alpha continues to touch you, your soft belly, mindless swirls of his fingers. Until your heavy breathing quiets. Your alpha- touching you where you’re going to get bred, where he’s going to fill you. Makes you feel like a butterfly pinned to a piece of cardboard.

"Do you think you could tolerate a hole check without cumming?" Namjoon asks, looking conflicted.

"A hold check? Why?" You're still dizzy. "Aren't you going to be in my hole soon anyway?" Yoongi barks a surprised laugh and Namjoon's adam's apple bobs.

"With Jin and Jungkook we've done this enough that we know they've got like a few hours given-" Namjoon swallows, "how they are. But you've slept so much, we don't really know and-" Namjoon pets softly over your stomach. Yoongi is still watching from the door, hiding his smile with wordlessness from the door.

"Your cervix will start to open up so that you can take our knots extra extra deep. But it will only open if you're nearly there."

"Why- why check now?" you ask, you hiccup, sort of overwhelmed. "Not that I don't want to just-"

Yoongi answers from the door. "It means the difference between the alpha's sleeping in the nest or not tonight. That's why Namjoon is asking." He takes a sip, "We should also know, just like- generally- so that we're not surprised." You look at the window, almost dizzy when you realize it's already dark. You are losing time slipping out of your fingers.

You lift your head, shakey. Nodding, flipping back over onto your stomach, and giving Namjoon permission. Yoongi gets in the nest, and on the back of your neck rubbing soothingly.

Namjoon wastes little time. You sigh at the feeling of his fingers filling you- that- yes that is exactly what you want. "Good pup, relax for me" It's hard, and you whimper.

But Namjoon's fingers crook deep, past the first knuckle and all the way to the second. His fingers feel so long and thick inside of you. You clench a little, trying to pull him deeper. You're so tender and hot inside. Yoongi can see it on Namjoon's face the second it registers precisely what your heat feels like from the inside out.

You feel Namjoon Press against something usually hard that has turned spongey and pliable and so so sensitive. So sensitive that it makes your clit twitch against his pant leg, just a little. Jungkook laughs, and you realize he's ducking low, watching.

"Cute"

You whine and squirm and Yoongi whispers sweet nothings to you. Namjoon pets, moving his fingers. Namjoon presses again and after a brief moment of pressure, he slips through. "There we go pup- all nice and open for us, won't be long now."

The hole check is over before it really even begins. Yoongi crouches over you whispering endless praises as Namjoon asks Jungkook where he'd like your slick to go in the nest. It will be soaked with it in no time, but jk still asks for it to be pressed to his tummy.

You watch them, cheeks warming. Watch as Namjoon smears it over Jungkook's soft stomach. A claiming mark if ever there was one.

Jin teeters to the entrance, looking round and pink-cheeked and substantially plied with food. Waddling with Hobi close behind. Jin's gaze darts from you to Namjoon and back again.

"How long?" Of course, Jin knows, knows exactly what Namjoon has done and why.

"Tonight," Namjoon says. Eyes fixated on the pack omega. "probably not until much much later, we can probably sleep so long as nothing triggers her." He turns to Kookie. "You hear that Koo? No funny buisness, alright? You've got to be extra gentle over the next few hours."

Jungkook just blinks up at Namjoon, albeit coquettishly.

Jin goes for a shower next. But it takes significantly more finagling to get him upstairs than it did for you. You’d never imagine that you’d be the obedient one- given your biting and squirming and whining. But you watch them wrangle Jin as Yoongi goes and gets a towel and a brush for your hair. The two of you are gentle and quiet even if the pack omega is anything but.

The truth is, you and Jungkook are purely entertained.

Jin grips the door frame hard enough that the wood creeks, knuckles turning white. While Hobi and Namjoon both try to get him to leave the next, unsuccessfully. Jin’s body jerks and then his head as he lifts his lip and hisses. Somehow he manages to look cute doing it.

"Why you little- don’t you dare tickle me Hoseok." It takes all four of your alphas and eventually your mate to get him upstairs. You grin at them from the nest and watch them struggle.

“I swear to god Namjoon I will scruff you if you try and order me around.”

"Hyung, we both know you'd enjoy it."

Having Namjoon be the bait makes it deceptively easy to corral your plucky little pack omega upstairs to deal with his 5 o'clock shadow and messy hair. Namjoon runs and Jin hunts him down. You wonder if this is how Jin was when he was younger. All mouthy and bratty.

Jungkook usually doesn't feel his grooming instincts too intensely, but the trembling in his muscles stops once he gets the brush in his hand.

You get a little lucid, just a little- while the alpha’s aren’t in the room. the air clearing from their scent. Jungkook sits behind you and brushes your hair. Tugging you close until you're sitting in his lap. Jungkook feels very very warm behind you. Warmer than usual. The shivers and goosebumps on your skin is concerning and your body still isn't self-regulating correctly. but it's a distant worry with jungkook so close and so warm, pressed hard against your spine.

“What are your heats like Kookie?”

Jungkook just shrugs, dragging the brush through your hair gently, tugging out the tangles with a practiced ease. “I don’t know, just like fuckin and cuddling I guess.”

You laugh, cheeks warm, and you can feel the start of it. A subtle swelling need in your stomach, a feeling that has you wanting to protect it and get belly down in the nest where no one can touch it.

No one except Jin and Jungkook and your mate. They'd probably be safe. They'd probably give you belly rubs.

Jungkook’s heat is hitting a little quicker. His body fighting to catch up to yours and Jin’s. You sit in his lap while he combs your hair. Your legs out in front of you, socked feet pushing at the edge of the nest.

At least until Jungkook’s hands get curious.

They skim first over your shoulders, lightly combing your hair into a loose order, then down your back to your waist. The big shirt no pants combo makes you squirm when Jungkook’s hands go around to your front.

Your back arches into his hands, "Sensitive?" he asks, all but pinching your chest between his fingers, massaging gently, feeling where you're big and plush.

"Yeah- they're like- super tender." He hums behind you but doesn’t stop his pinching. Keeping your body taught. You let Jungkook do what he wants with you, dizzy and susceptible to your need to be good and feel good. He cups your chest in his hands, running his palms up and down them- feeling their weight and their give. You don't stop him, you let him touch.

This is what your omega nestmates are for. To check, to make sure your body is safe just like Namjoon did. You have no doubt that if any of the alpha's do anything that Jungkook doesn't like- he'll tell them.

But Jungkook does like it when you squirm and squeak.

You chirp when Jungkook's hands go greedy, rolling your nipples between his fingers. tugging on them gently. His brain is getting away from him- because Jungkook would never talk this way ordinarily. You know very well that he doesn't want pups and yet- his brain and instincts will temporarily convince him that he wants something different.

"Wanna see these swollen with milk for pups, want alpha to put a pup in you, want him to breed both of us so that we can nest together with our tummies-" He giggles, cute, in omegaspace but so lewd with it. "You'd taste so sweet here, I want it- please-"

The idea of having…milk, of letting your pack omega and nestmate feed from you- makes you feel hot and tingly all over. You don't know if Jin put this idea in your mind and jungkook's or if they're both always like this.

You squirm, trying to get away from Jungkook and tell him that this isn't being a good pup and you know it. But before you can- Jungkook's teeth bite into the nape of your neck. Scruffing you and turning you limp and doll-like against his front. Your head goes fuzzy and you stop squirming, completely boneless.

You feel dizzy, so dizzy at it. he doesn't stop his pinch and pull rythem and you wonder why you ever wanted to stop Jungkook, not when it feels so good having his hands on you, so warm. He lets go of your neck with a hum. licking his teeth when they pop free from your skin.

Jungkook's hands are free to inch lower- past the hem of your shirt and between your thighs. Past your tummy and past your pussy, down low.

Lower than the alphas would like but there are no alphas here, just you and Jungkook and the nest.

You try to back up into him as his fingers tease, wet with slickness from the first brush. You wonder if you're leaking a lot already- if you're going to get all wet and messy with your heat. You're already so much wetter than Jungkook and Jin get normally. You're glad that Jin put down some waterproof blankets on the bottom of the nest. It's so embarrassing.

(If only you knew. Jungkook's salivating and he's not even an alpha. Waring with the idea of keeping you close on top of him like this, or detangling himself from you to have a taste. To bully his way back between your thighs like he woke up this morning. He should have taken it while he had the chance. He wants to taste your sweetness, your willingness to be bred, the fertility of your heat hot and sweet on his tongue. He knows the alpha's will go crazy for it. They always do.)

“Can’t wait for Alpha to put his knot in your puphole and make you cry, you're so pretty when you cry, wish I had a knot too- it's so so so unfair.” His fingers continue to move, your toes scrunch, at the pleasure, back arching.

“Which one?”

"Which what?"

"Which hole," you ask shyly. About to close your legs until Jungkook pinches and squeezes at your thighs. His fingers dimple in the fullness there. Opening you wide and pinching until you leave them that way- open and ready for the taking.

You eye the door warily. From the sound of it- your pack is preoccupied with wrangling Jinnie upstairs. but the door is open, anyone could walk by and see your pussy spread open like this. like this- you are jungkook's to display and taunt the alpha's with.

Jungkook presses the pads of his fingers over your entrance. Pinky rubbing low until you squirm from a new kind of sensitivity.

“All of them. This one too.”

You squirm, and Jungkook’s fingers continue their small movements, it’s not like he’s fingering you, but his finger ghosts over your hole, then the other. Clean and soft and damp with slick from where your pussy dribbled down, both entrances sensitive and wet and achey.

His purr builds behind you as he feels and feels and feels. Exploring. His voice is warbly and deep from the purr. "I wish I had two pupholes like you do. Girl omegas are so lucky- can take so many knots at once. Knots are so cute and chubby, wanna bite ‘em."

You giggle and he joins you. Two omegas and a singular fever building between you. Neither of you are thinking straight. Neither in omegaspace nor out of it. "I don't think the alphas would appreciate that."

His fingers tread higher, pressing into your clit until you jerk, rubbing up and down it so that your happy scent bleeds higher and higher. Jungkook pinches, and you try to grab his wrist. Gasping and jerking forward.

Jungkook tugs gently, back and forth, just like with your nipples and it's almost like he's trying to milk you there. your socked feet push at the nest but jungkook holds you and you can't get away from it. it's too much. The pleasure pain need of it is so intense you see black spots in your vision.

You're a little panicked, “Koo- koo- can't- please- they’ll be angry.”

“Let them be.”

But after another tug, He lets your clit go and you jerk, resting back against his front. Hiccuping. Jungkook's fingers stay like that between your legs, urging little 'ah ah ah's from your throat. But he doesn't get quite so rough with you again. This time- Jungkook stays soft.

Wetness and the sweetness of slick slowly building and building- not just from you. Jungkook stops teasing you quite so bad and just leaves his fingers at the precipice of entering you. Plugging up the slick and keeping it from dripping out. Resting his fingers just there inside of you, almost like reverse cockwarming. Like he's keeping your hole warm and stretched around his fingers. Ready for the alpha's later.

It's a little maddening. Having him just touch but not move. Have him guard your holes and settle back. There's very little satisfaction in it.

Sweat drips down your temple, Jungkook leans forward to nuzzle it and lap at your cheek.

You're still like that, legs splayed so that Jungkook can play with you and on display When Namjoon and Yoongi round the corner into the nest room.

You jolt at the sudden surprise and try to close your legs, but Jungkook keeps them open with messy fingers. Slick turning your skin glossy when Jungkook holds your thigh open. Yoongi's chest heaves, and he curses low, "Jesus Koo you-" Yoongi actually laughs. Rubbing at his face, cheeks pink.

Namjoon is not amused, eyes going dark. Especially once Jungkook takes his fingers away and lets you gush, just a little. A barely visible trail of slick dripping from one hole to the other as they watch. Yoongi's Addams apple bobs as he swallows.

Namjoon's wearing a dark red mark on his collarbone (probably from Jin given once he caught him) The top of his shoulders crested with faint wetness like he'd unintentionally gotten stuck under the spray of the shower upstairs. But Namjoon looks…steamy. Steaming with anger once Jungkook’s fingers tread lower. He takes your slick and feeds it back up to your fluttering entrance.

It's sort of hot, you clench around Jungkook's fingers and both of them- both Namjoon and Yoongi look, watching. Yoongi covers his mouth, "fuck Jungkook you can't-"

You can feel Jungkook’s grin pressed to the back of your neck, you know what his eyes look like- owlish over the top of your head. Namjoon glares from the doorway, as Jungkook's fingers just barely tread inside and you mewl softly. jungkook spreads his fingers, Holding you open and showing your alpha and your mate how warm and wet you are. Don't they want a taste? Don't they want to feel inside? Jungkook can feel and it’s ////heavenly.

Namjoon's foot depresses the edge of the nest. “Touching what isn’t yours Koo?" Namjoon shakes his head, jaw rolling. "You know better.”

Jungkook does not go easily. Namjoon ends up having to call for backup. Jimin almost slips coming down the stairs. The wooden thud of his ass connected with a step resounding through the house.

Things go from being good to being scary to being good again so fast it gives you whiplash.

Yoongi helps you sit up on your thighs, still too shakey to stand. You don’t need to be held while Jungkook twists and rolls out of Namjoon and Jimin’s hold laughing all the while. The alpha's groan in frustration, unable to get their arms around him for long, unable to subdue him. Both of you watch, Yoongi leans down to kiss your forehead, "You okay?" you shift, uncomfortable. And he produces a wipe from somewhere a hidden stash of clean-up items in the rim of the nest. "Messy there?" he knows you so well. Hands it over rather than clean you himself. Although it's mostly a lost cause.

Jungkook laughs and rolls again while Namjoon curses. Cheek’s pink, scent sweetening while being chased. “Every time” Yoongi informs you, “every time- every heat- Jungkook makes the alpha’s chase him.” His giggle warms your back.

Jimin tries to get his hands around Jungkook’s wrists but he twists and twists and twists.

You giggle from the nest, at their frustration, at how Jungkook’s clearly enjoying himself. Dodging their hands. But then there’s Tae, there by the door, Crossing her arms and waiting expectantly. All but tapping her slippered foot. Staring down at him completely unimpressed.

It takes them a second to spot her. Jimin does first, straightening up immediately once he spots her glower. Jungkook does not spot her as quickly sliding to the floor with his hands around Namjoon’s waist, grinning, cheeks pink and eyes hazy. Almost pulling his pants down with how tight he grapples with him.

"Jungkook.”

Jungkook looks up, face going pale, shooting to his feet in front of her. Not flinching when she reaches out and pinches his nape. Jungkook lets her and whines through it. “There we go pup, you just needed someone to make you listen huh? Come upstairs. Now.” Jungkook follows, as if in a trance. Unable to tear his eyes away from her. Obediently holding her hand, looking scolded and mildly scared.

Your mate huffs and leans over to scoop you closer, but you squirm. Remembering his promise to let you go outside of the nest once you'd showered.

“Tae is kinda scary when she wants to be.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, staring after her lovingly.

“Do you think you could eat some more breakfast?”

“Maybe.” You say, and Yoongi smiles sweetly. With his arms around you, it's the calmest you've felt, the gentlest you've felt all morning. It's not like omegaspace- although you know you're in it, as you whine against his throat.

Yoongi smiles, “I’ll take that. C’m on.”

You know what awaits Jungkook upstairs, a spanking over the clothes and not under because that would be giving in too much. And any more would surely send Jungkook hurtling straight past pre-heat and into heat.

Jungkook doesn’t understand what the big deal is, it’s going to be a shit show anyways, with three omegas in heat and only 5 packmates to help them through it. It means that no one will be offered a full heat spike of time in between knotting's. Even less because Yoongi doesn’t have a knot (obviously) and probably won’t be able to help as much with Jungkook and Jin like he used to.

Judging from the way you wrap yourself around his back and stubbornly refuse to go anywhere- he’ll be preoccupied during your heat. You stare at Yoongi as he guides you to the kitchen, bumping into the couch and the walls because you don’t want to stop looking. Hobi laughs, coming around you, guiding you away from the lamp. He doesn’t ask what you’re doing out of the nest. He already knows. He’s toting Jin behind him- who looks sleepy and soft and scrubbed raw.

He doesn't talk, probably can't with the strength of his purrs as Hobi sits him down at the kitchen island and starts feeding him. You stubbornly refuse to sit anywhere but Yoongi's lap. A predicament that Yoongi is only too happy to have himself in. Enough that Hobi leans over and teases you with a pinch to your scent gland.

“Huh, maybe you won’t even need us, just want your mate huh?”

“Jinnie and Yoongi and Koo- please Koo,” you parrot, feeling small. Eyes upturned at Yoongi, asking him so nicely for it that he can't help but squeeze around your waist extra tight. You let out a little squeak. As if on cue from upstairs, you hear a loud shout, a tumble, a giggle. Probably the alpha's manhandling Jk into the tub and Jungkook making them work for it.

Yoongi is quite plainly using your squishy-at-the-edges state to ply you with enough fruit to fill your tummy and hopefully tide you over. Getting you to eat over the next few days will be difficult, and he’s trying (and succeeding) to fatten you up in the meantime- just a little.

Most of the food and fruit- the pack's usual rut and heat staples, were prepped yesterday by the others during Yoongi's staring match with the street. The food is mild enough that it won’t bother your stomach.

You are utterly obedient whenever he holds out a piece of food, lips closing around his fingers, chewing and looking up at him, listless almost not blinking. The next time he feeds you- you bite down past the fruit and onto his fingers. Jin has to lean over to pinch your jaw to get you to let go. "Sorry," you say, licking your teeth. Aching and aching and aching. "Didn't mean to just-"

"It's okay." Yoongi just wipes his fingers on a nearby cloth, "You can bite me all you like."

"Can I?" you ask, almost excited for it.

"Of course, I'm yours." You purr, and park for face in Yoongi's throat, and really- it works against him, because now he can't get you to eat anymore, can't until he sighs and starts to pop the buttons on his sleep shirt. "There, happy now?" You suck hickey after hickey onto Yoongi's chest. Echoing each mark for a bit of food.

Hobi leaves because Tae calls for him, not upstairs but from the nesting room, leaving you, Jin, and Yoongi to eat. Eventually, you push at Yoongi's hands, nudging him to the pack omega. Jin eats slowly, eyes on you, pink-cheeked and slow. You're starting to burn a fever and Yoongi and Jin both know it won't go away.

"How will I know when my heat's hitting?" You'd asked earlier, "You'll know" is all Jinnie had said.

When the fruit is maybe half finished you start to hear it- some shouting from the other room. Not Jungkook, not even Hobi who returned upstairs to give Jungkook the remainder of his bath but is coming down now. Jungkook like you- had refused all but one item of clothing at this point. Is only in shorts. Yoongi does not let you scent him as you walk by. Joining the sound of Jimin, Namjoon, and Tae arguing in the other room.

It's a little silly when you see.

They've got the pack's sex toy boxes open in front of them, knots and cocks and dildos all laid out on the edge of the nest, big ones and colorful ones and ones with knotting attachments. The pack doesn't see these things as their replacement but as their best asset in heat.

And yet, they bicker.

"There's just no way- I know you want to do this heat all-natural hyung. But we won't be able to."

"Not unless we take fucking Viagra or something." Tae doesn’t laugh, a clawed hand over her face.

"No way, no one is taking anything. Mini- we can make due."

"My knot is gonna fall off hyung."

"It is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

They're all overtired, instincts awake and exerted, just the same as you. Yoongi steps through you and Jin to go comfort them at the same moment that Hobi lets go of Jungkook's wrist. The rest of them are inside of the nest room leaving You, Jungkook, and Jin out in the hallway.

Jungkook widens his stance. Just a little. Powerful thighs tensing.

(At the end of the day, your heat is less of a controlled burn, and more of an explosion)

His dark eyes are wide, tracking the alpha movements, you watch Jungkook watch them. Feeling the sluggish thump of your heartbeat. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jin mirror him. Feet shoulder with apart, at the ready.

Your heart thuds loud in your ears as you watch the alpha's movements too. All of a sudden, you can't take your eyes off of them. They’re not a threat but not not a threat. You're closest but you still brace yourself.

You physically watch the hair stand up on Namjoon's neck, and the alpha's turn slow. Eyes narrowing. Jin's hand slides from your wrists to your hand, giving you a squeeze before he lets go. Jin's grinning. So is Jungkook- it's a little feral- but it feels it feels-

There is a heat under your skin, burning everywhere your body touches that's not them, like a brand or maybe like a freshly forged string of fate.

it feels Good, it burns but you feel free. Your instincts course through you like adrenaline only worse. You do not feel settled, you feel alive and wild. Strong and powerful. You feel ready. All three of your scents swell sweet, building and building on each other, you sway, a little unsteady. Teetering.

Namjoon's eyes are so wide they could be mini-moons. His chest rippled with a warning growl. "Omega." It's a warning, the lethal purr in Namjoon’s tone says no nonsense will be tolerated.

Jungkook takes it as a challenge.

For a second, no one moves and no one breathes, but then you're scattering like the rats from Ratatouille. The omegas running and giggling down the hall and the alpha bolting after you, trying to catch you. Legs pumping, moving against the floor.

Yoongi bolts, anticipating your movement the second before you do. He's quicker than all the alphas and he goes for you first. Grabbing you and heaving you up as you giggle and kick your feet the alpha shoots past you.

"No! I've gotta!"

Omegaspace zoomies are so much fun, Yoongi is grinning, lets you down, lets you take another step before he's trying to scoop you up again. A cat playing with a mouse, letting it get a bit farther away before you pounce.

Only you have learned, you did learn from Jungkook earlier, because you twist out of Yoongi's arms.

"Oh no you don't-"

Namjoon lunges for Jin but the pack omega dodges and Namjoon's arms close around nothing. Jungkook is the fastest by far and Jimin's legs pump, almost sliding across the smooth polished floor to get to Jungkook. The omega laughs as he slips out of Jimin's grasp.

You try to follow them but you don't get very far, someone's hands around your wrist that almost tugs you clean off your feet but into a pair of arms. Several pairs of arms, sweet smelling and victorious surround you.

Really, you never had a chance.

There is something in your instinct settled by it, by being chased and restrained. Your alphas can’t have you unless they try- unless they try really really hard to catch you. they won’t be able to take the sweetness between your legs and do something with it unless they earn it.

You get dragged to the floor. Tae's dress feels silky against your shins. Yoongi's hands are rough on your shoulders. Hobi's touch- hard against your thigh. you laugh and try to roll again but this time- you are unable to get away from them.

You look up at them and whimper. Parting your legs in defeat. hot, you feel hot all over.

Yoongi doesn't hesitate, palms you blatantly between your legs. "is this what you needed sweetheart? A little bit of roughness. you're too delicate. too little for things like this. almost makes me think you don't want us to be gentle with you."

you're so hot you feel like you're burning, whimpering out something that sounds suspiciously like "please"

"you need to ask."

you can do little more but chirp in reply. but yoongi wasn't really expecting anything coherent from you at this point.

Jungkook gets the farthest. Almost to the end of the hall before Jimin bares down upon him, pushing him almost to the floor. Jungkook's mouth open in a soundless snarl. Face more animal than human as he paws at Jimin's body. Neither trying to hurt him or pleasure him. Needy and feral.

Jimin tries to turn him over, to get him to present but Jungkook won't. Not until he's in the nest. You should be trying harder to get away. Harder to get out of Yoongi's hands around your waist but you don't, too busy watching.

Namjoon and Jin are similarly wrestling. A little less far into the hall but still farther than you got. The pack omega is belly up, not belly down, making Namjoon work for it to try and twist him around. It's feral and it's a little primal. The way that Namjoon nips at his throat. Jin tries to kick at Namjoon's thigh but Namjoon grabs it and pulls him back by his ankle, Jin's whole body sliding on the floor.

Tae grabs one of your wrists and Hobi grabs the other, yoongi hooks his fingers into your pussy, one hand around your middle and in a feat of strength that impresses you the small tiny corner of your brain that's lucid- he picks you up off the floor. Heaving you up back towards the nest. Towards safety. yoongi's fingers leave you and you want them back instantly. crying for it.

Jimin throws Jungkook over his shoulder. Namjoon and Jin keep fighting, too evenly matched. Another alpha will have to help him settle the pack omega. Once you’re in the nest, once you’re knotted and docile and fucked so full you can’t move.

You grind back against Yoongi's hips, feeling the hardness there, the cock that's yours yours yours. Almost giddy at the prospect of getting put in your place.

You grin and taste blood.

~-~

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Birthday Pup list

Notes

this is another chapter of mindless fluff- mostly because i just could not edit it in time with the last chapter.

i feel like i need to warn you guys that the next chapter! the heat sex stuff! will not be able to be posted for at least another two weeks because i am going away next weekend to the west coast to help my older sister shop for her wedding dress. i wish i was one of the those people who could write on planes but i can'ttttt i have about 3k already written for it but! it's going to take me a minute and i'm sorry!

i didn't origionally intend for there to be so much body worship in this- but i think given the m/c's internal monolouge early in the series, a bit of tummy worship can't hurt.

m/c, me, and everyone looking at jk: i wanna knock him up.

i think i may have gone a bit far with the jin wanting to brestfeed the m/c thing, but i cant even help it it makes me feel so soft in like a horny sort of way i loveeeee it

i don't know why i love the idea of woumb fucking so much, like listen- i know that it's physically impossible in humans and like- that it's all just a fantasy but i love this fantasy.

there was surprisingly more smut in this chapter than i originally intended.

i am also usually not a fan of booty stuff but??? jk + booty stuff??? yes please give it to me, i love that he just plays the m/c like a fiddle.

maybe the use of 'puphole' is cringey but it's also so cute and lewd i like it. let me know if it squiks you or not.

i think i might...be into pussy torture a little...like when jk pinches her clit and is a little mean thats like- so my thing you know. jk goes so feral.

this chapter is a little less like "there are concrete things that happen" and more just me thinking of things i want to write and putting it in <3

384 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 1 year ago

Text

Now We Reign | myg

☆summary: when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

☆pairing: Min Yoongi x singer female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: work collaborators to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, cursing, OC has family problems similar to those Yoongi went through, financial insecurity, loneliness, cheating but not cheating because they are on a break, sexist interviewer, explicit content: grinding, dom!reader, switch!Yoongi, big dick!Yoongi, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, face riding, tits/nipples play, hickey, fingering, protected sex, choking, clit play, denied orgasms (due to consensual drunk sex), fingering, mentions of anal sex, handcuffs, anal plug, anal fingering

☆word count: 34.9k

☆a/n: it’s so weird to post something other than The Forgotten Spaces :’) I hope you’ll still enjoy this! As per always, thank you to @moonleeai for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Seven months ago

Music had always been home to you. A refuge, a safe haven from your family life as you had grown up. It had been held in the keys of your piano, and in the pages of your diary. Songs after songs, lines underlined and others erased. Clever play of words, rhymes and music to accompany it. Some of them had made it to your first EP, but most you had tried to forget.

Your past wasn’t one you wanted to revisit. Not when you had gotten a deal with a record label, something you hadn’t expected to happen at such a young age.

Idol life had never been something you were aiming for. You chose the backstreets, the smaller scene, and produced indie music as you went. It still got you a following, one that had been growing through the years, until your name was known all over Seoul.

You wondered if it had reached your hometown too, but the silence on your phone was clear enough: even if your parents had heard, their older daughter had been dead to them a long time ago. You had stopped caring through the years, pouring your hate for your family in your songs. You had even dived in the genre of rap a little. Rhythm and poetry, laced together until you lost yourself in the music.

It was different from your usual, but it had gotten the attention of a big name in the music industry. He had suggested a collaboration, offering to produce the song. All you had to do was help with the lyrics, though you were pretty sure he had that part covered. Of course he also wanted you to record some parts of the song for him, needing a female voice to be able to carry the meaning. Nothing too complicated.

After all, Min Yoongi already was a successful established artist. Far more successful than you ever thought you would be. It had taken you by surprise, when he had contacted you. It had been a random Tuesday night, and your agent had been going crazy, so much so you had had to tell him to calm down otherwise you were going to drop the collab. Minhyuk hadn’t needed more to oblige, and you had found yourself working on the song in the following weeks.

You weren’t surprised when Min Yoongi came to you with an almost finished version of the song. You had tweaked some parts, and surprisingly enough, he had trusted the changes. Even if you had made him rework one of his own verses, Yoongi had listened to you intently, and had seen the intelligence behind your suggestions.

You could only hope he would see the intelligence between the changes you wanted to make now. Because the song was set to release in a few weeks, and you were pretty convinced he didn’t like last minute changes.

Maybe that was why you found yourself going to his place, with a whiskey bottle as an offering so he wouldn’t be too mad.

Yes, you knew where Min Yoongi lived. In a far more luxurious condo building compared to your own, with a huge condo that stood on two stories of the upper levels. It offered him a beautiful view of the city, though you had yet to visit at night. Indeed, he had only made you come here once, on one of the early Saturdays of your collab.

You realized as you stood in front of the building that this was stupid. You hadn’t even texted or called him in advance to inform him of your impromptu visit. Had only decided the changes about an hour ago, and had rushed to the liquor store to grab the expensive bottle you currently held.

But life seemed to have plans for you. Other than that of running away into the night before you had the chance to embarrass yourself. That is, life had planned for you to run into Min Yoongi as he was walking back home, and you both stood facing each other for a few awkward seconds before you collected yourself, offering him a respectful bow.

“Seonbaenim,” you greeted him, and you hesitated before you straightened.

His hands were in his pockets, protecting him from the cold the evening held. He had an unreadable expression on his features, as if the sight of you was an inconvenience, but he didn’t want to let it show.

You weren’t stupid enough to believe collaborating with him had made you friends. Min Yoongi was a professional through and through, in everything he did. Apart from his members, you knew he didn’t mix work and personal life.

He said your name, and for a second you thought you saw confusion on his features. “What are you doing here?”

You stood there, not knowing what to say for what probably was a good ten seconds but felt like an eternity. His eyes flitted to the whiskey bottle, and you were pretty sure a disapproving look passed in his gaze, not lingering long enough for you to be sure you had truly seen it.

“I have some suggestions to make for the song,” you said. Your voice held strong, even though you felt incredibly uncomfortable under his stare.

His eyes widened a little, and his lips parted for a second before his mouth fell shut again. He looked behind you, to the hall of his building, before settling his gaze on you again.

“What do you have in mind?”

Oof. At least he was letting you talk. “It’s for the last bridge,” you started. “I think I could sing the last part differently. It’s lacking emotion.”

Yoongi had bothered you about emotion a lot when you had first been recording. Had told you he was surprised you couldn’t carry your usual emotion in this song. Which meant he had listened to your album, and you hadn’t known what to make of it for a time.

But you knew mentioning emotion was the way to go. Indeed, Yoongi slightly tilted his head to the side, still as unreadable, but you were convinced he was considering it.

“What makes you think you can get it better this time?”

There were no clues in his tone to let you know what he might have been thinking.

You had to refrain from scoffing. “I have what you need, trust me.”

He pursed his lips, just a little. A crack in his professional mask.

Because the song held sadness. The angry nostalgic kind. And hadn’t it been for the fact your parents hadn’t even deigned to call you for your birthday, you probably wouldn’t have found the right emotion in you to deliver the performance Yoongi had first wanted from you.

“Very well,” he said, nodding once. “You can record it in my home studio.”

You nodded too, agreeing to his invitation. You weren’t foolish enough to pass on the opportunity. You fell into step with Yoongi as he started moving towards the door again, the bottle of whiskey heavy in your hand.

“I brought a gift to apologize for being here so late,” you tentatively said. Not really knowing what approach to take when it came to the ice radiating off Min Yoongi today.

He had never been openly cold before. But you could feel it in the hard stretch of his shoulders, and the muscle that feathered on his jaw whenever he clenched it. Something was upsetting him, something that had made him go on a walk at a late hour just to clear his mind.

You were familiar with such walks. You getting to his place had started as a walk like that. Until you had seen the liquor store and decided to be gone with formalities.

You hadn’t expected him to let you see his emotions. Even if a minute ago you had been at a loss with how he felt, now you could physically feel the anger on him. But ever so the professional and gentleman, Yoongi held the door open for you, breathing in one last time the cold air of the night before he stepped in behind you.

And just like that the unbreakable mask was back in place. It wasn’t like you minded: like him, you prided yourself in your professionality. Just because Yoongi was a big name in the industry didn’t mean that you were going to forfeit your nature.

Maybe that was the reason why the elevator ride was so awkward. Yoongi had dived his hands back in his pockets as soon as he had hit the call button, and then after he had pressed on his level. You were just standing next to him, and the silent elevator smoothly went up the floors until you reached his. You found yourself straining to look ahead, avoiding to glance at him.

He seemed as if he needed privacy, and you were not going to be the one to take it from him. Fortunately, the whiskey bottle was a rock in the awkwardness, keeping you steady even as your head turned from wanting to disappear. It gave you something to do as the elevator moved, and you almost dreaded the moment it would come to a stop.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do. You thought about your parents, about the phone that hadn’t rang today, and you clenched your jaw as the emotions swarmed in.

Min Yoongi wasn’t the only one in a mood.

The elevator halted, slowing on its hinges until it had fully stopped. The doors slid open, and Yoongi walked out. You took a steadying breath before following him, and you looked away as he typed the code to his condo on the pad on his door.

Fancy condo buildings and their technologies be damned.

The pad whirred as it unlocked the door, and a few seconds later, you were in Min Yoongi’s condo. You breathed in, inhaling the remaining scent of a home-cooked meal. It smelled good, infinitely better than what you could cook, and your stomach had the nerve to growl as you watched Yoongi take off his shoes.

You fought the blush that was creeping on your cheeks as Yoongi glanced at you. “Have you not eaten dinner?”

You hadn’t. You had tried getting seaweed soup, but just the thought of eating it alone for your birthday had made you sick to your stomach. The only thing that was fueling your body today was the coffee you had drunk this morning and the sandwich you had forced yourself to eat at lunch time.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I’ll get something to eat at the convenience store after, it shouldn’t be too long anyway.”

He watched you carefully, and you wondered if he could tell you were in a mood. You didn’t even know if he cared. He didn’t really seem as if he did, because he only nodded his head curtly before motioning to some slippers left abandoned by the door.

“You can put these on,” he told you, and then he was walking down the hall, shrugging off his coat.

You watched him go with a confused expression, before you did as told. You hesitated for a good minute before you followed him, almost feeling as if you were intruding on his personal space.

In all truth, you were very much so intruding on his personal space.

You didn’t remember much of his condo from your first visit. He had directly guided you to the studio, which was on the second floor. First door to the left. But tonight he hadn’t gone straight for that, so you followed the sounds until you reached a kitchen area.

Yoongi was putting some food in a bowl. Jajjangmyeon, from the looks of it, and you surveyed him as he slid the bowl in his microwave, before shutting the door and dialing the cooking time.

He turned to look at you, before motioning at some glasses he had put on the island, under the expensive looking chandelier.

“Why don’t you pour us a drink?” he suggested. “I’m reheating a plate for you, I don’t want your stomach to be gurgling while you record.”

You would have been embarrassed had this not been the first kind thing someone had done for you today.

Indeed, you didn’t have a lot of friends. Kept most of them at a distance, and none really knew when your birthday was. Mostly because you hated birthdays and had always thought them to be useless. Just another mark to add on the calendar, another year gone by without any news from your family.

“You don’t have to,” you said, and pink tinted your cheeks as you moved in.

He folded his arms on his chest, leaning against the counter. His eyes held an intensity you shied from as you focused on the glasses instead. “I would do it for anyone I collab with.”

You pursed your lips, nodding slightly, and the room fell silent except for the buzz of the microwave. You stopped in front of the glasses, putting the bottle down next to them. Not really knowing what to say to fill the silence, you uncorked the bottle, and the oaky scent of the whiskey filled your nose.

The familiar smell eased your nerves a little, and you poured the two glasses as Yoongi fished the bowl out of the microwave. He put it down next to you, and you glanced up to meet his face.

You hadn’t realized it before, but Yoongi had pretty features. His face was round, just a little, softening the edges of him, and his eyes were like gems on his face, shining in the light from the chandelier.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, before grabbing one of the glasses to give to him.

He bowed in thanks, taking the glass from you before inhaling the whiskey. “That’s an expensive bottle.”

You chuckled. “I felt bad for coming over so late.”

“It could have waited until tomorrow.”

It wasn’t reproachful, the way he said it. Just a statement, and maybe even a question. As much as he was professional, Min Yoongi wasn’t an asshole. He knew you were going through something, and although he clearly didn’t want to prod, he also didn’t want to pretend as if everything was okay.

You shrugged. “I tend to live my emotions quickly. If you want a raw result, then it had to be tonight.”

He wet his lips, and his eyes fell to the jajjangmyeon. “Then eat so we can get to work.”

*****

You finished recording for the fifth time. Each time Yoongi had suggested something a little different, something he believed would work better for the song. Less angry, more sadness. Find nostalgia and all that same crap.

You expected it when Yoongi said, “Let’s do it one more time. I think we almost have it.”

You glanced at him where he was sitting at his computer. You considered biting his head off, but then you nodded curtly.

He was right, there was way too much anger in your voice. So you shut your eyes, thinking about fifteen-year-old you having to leave your parents’ house because, “we won’t support you if you decide to give up on your life for some stupid dream”. You thought about you, living in the backroom of an old man’s restaurant, working shifts for him in exchange for a place to live, until you had been old enough to move to Seoul. You focused on the loneliness, on the knowledge that there was no one in this world at your side.

It always hit harder on your birthday, didn’t it?

When you felt ready, your eyes fluttered open, and you nodded at Yoongi, indicating that he could start the track you listened to for recording. You let the music fill you, syncing your soul with the chords that filled your ears until you were one with it. Until it was time to sing. Then you started singing, eyes shutting instinctively. You let the emotions guide your voice, let the loneliness formulate the lyrics.

It was over before you even realized it. The track fell silent, and still you kept your eyes shut.

“That was perfect,” Yoongi complimented you.

Even that wasn’t enough to bring your eyes to open. You had to take a few breaths, fighting the urge to break down that had taken over you. When the wave passed, you let your vision adjust to the world again, though it was blurry behind the bitter tears. You blinked them away, ignoring the feeling of Yoongi’s heavy gaze on your profile.

“Fucking finally,” you muttered, and you stepped away from the mic, taking off the headset.

Yoongi followed you with his eyes as you moved closer, putting the headset down next to his keyboard. “Don’t you want to hear?”

“I don’t need to.”

It wasn’t even confidence that motivated your words. Just nostalgia. Yoongi offered you a curt nod, before listening to it himself. He seemed satisfied with the result, because he nodded his head, rolling his chair away from the desk as he folded his arms on his chest. His gaze locked with yours, and a smile ghosted on his lips.

“I’ll send you the final result tomorrow,” he said.

You pursed your lips. “Sounds good. I guess I’ll get going then.”

You had half turned away from him when he spoke up. “Don’t you want another drink? That bottle was expensive.”

It really was. Way too expensive for your light wallet, but Yoongi was a whiskey connoisseur. You couldn’t have shown up with something less. Even if the bottle could have paid for your groceries for at least two weeks.

It wasn’t like you needed to eat three meals a day anyway, right? And with the money you were ought to make from the song, you could tighten the belt for a couple of weeks more.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “It’s late, I shouldn’t stay.”

Yoongi nodded, getting up from his chair. He hadn’t finished his glass yet, and he held your gaze as he downed it in one long gulp. You watched his throat muscle work, before letting your gaze drop to the ground.

“I’ll let you leave with the bottle then,” he said after he swallowed. “I have plenty of them already.”

“You really don’t have to,” you quickly said, with a panicked gaze.

He was smiling now. It took you by surprise. “Then you’re going to stay and drink another glass with me, mmh? We’re allowed to celebrate finishing the song.”

Hopefully it was the loneliness in you that made you say yes, and not the softness that took over Yoongi’s features. He seemed relieved, as if he had been embarrassed to ask, but he recovered quickly guiding you back to the kitchen area downstairs.

This time around, you took your time to admire his condo. To admire the simple elegance of the place. It was far more luxurious than your own apartment, which was a one bedroom with a single working light and water stains on the ceiling. Yoongi’s place was all but that. It was full of light, spotless, with scattered pieces of art to decorate. Nothing too excessive or fancy, and it almost made the condo look a little empty. As if Yoongi hadn’t really taken the time to decorate.

Or maybe he had just recently moved in, and his busy schedule was keeping him from decorating more.

“You’re lucky this is my favourite bottle,” he said with a friendly smile as you stopped next to the kitchen island, where you had left the whiskey earlier.

“Glad my guess was right.”

He wet his lips, before pouring himself another glass. He grabbed yours from the sink, pouring you a glass as well before offering it to you. “And here I thought you were a connoisseur.”

You didn’t have the money to be a connoisseur, so you just offered him a secretive smile, followed by, “Maybe I am”.

He chuckled, and then guided you to the living room. Another spacious room, with a rug in front of the couch you assumed was worth more than everything you owned. You tried not to let it show on your face, but you were pretty sure Yoongi could tell you were impressed.

The feeling was entirely replaced by surprise at the sight of the little dog that was sleeping in a dog bed under the wide window.

“Why haven’t I seen that dog before?” you asked, eyes widened.

“You like dogs?”

You nodded, and you took a couple of steps towards the animal. It almost looked dead where it was lying, but then the little dog looked up at you, blinking away sleepy eyes.

“He’s called Holly,” Yoongi provided as the dog got up, stretching and yawning. “He’s lazy.”

You faked offence for the dog. “Poor little baby, he’s just tired.”

Yoongi laughed, and the sound made you quickly look away from him. As much as it had been unexpected, it did wonders to the sadness that had been clinging to your form all day.

“Sorry Holly.”

It was your turn to laugh as the little dog barked before running to Yoongi, begging to be picked up. Yoongi took a sip of whiskey, before putting his glass down on the coffee table. He sat down on the couch, cuddling the dog to his chest as he got comfortable.

It was so domestic you just stood there, staring at him. He motioned to the couch next to him. “Have a seat.”

It broke the spell, and you blinked a few times before obeying, busying yourself with sipping the whiskey to ignore the way your cheeks were burning.

“How long have you had the dog?” you asked, trying to fill the silence that was threatening to fall into awkwardness.

And as Yoongi started telling you the tale of how he got his dog, you slowly settled yourself more comfortably on the couch, drinking the whiskey as you enjoyed listening to him. He looked far friendlier than you had ever seen him, and it slowly became easy to forget you were just a collaborator.

Maybe if it hadn’t been your birthday, you would have refused the third glass he offered. And maybe, maybe if your mind hadn’t started fogging with the alcohol, you would have refused the fourth.

By the time you started the fifth, you were drunk, and Holly had gone into hiding somewhere, letting you sit closer to Yoongi on the couch. Luckily enough for you, you could stand your alcohol pretty well, and you forced a mask on your features so Yoongi couldn’t tell just how inebriated you were.

Not that he was faring any better. Yoongi had a red flush to his cheeks, and he had run his hand in his hair earlier in a way that had let it ruffled. It made him look good, and you tilted your head to the side as you listened to him tell you about his recent concerts in Vegas.

“It’s funny,” you sighed as he fell silent to drink from his glass. “While you were having shows in Vegas I was busking in Hongdae.”

He swallowed the oaky alcohol, licking his lips dry from the drops that had lingered on them. “I saw videos of you busking.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a small chuckle. “Please save me the embarrassment.”

He laughed, slightly shaking his head. As if the thought of you being embarrassing was the funniest joke he had ever heard in his life.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’ve been there too.”

An eternity ago, maybe. But the condo around you looked nothing like someone that used to be a busker. “You’ve had far more success than I’ve ever had,” you said, voice low.

His eyes connected with yours, and for a moment all there was was the synchronized beating of your hearts. He was the one to break the contact, and it almost felt as if you were going to fall forward from the rupture.

“You’ll get your success too,” he whispered. “Your music is amazing.”

You blushed, but the flush from the alcohol did a good job at hiding it. “I do hope so.”

A smile played on his lips as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. He played with the rim of the glass, almost pensively. “Army will love your music.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For giving me this opportunity.”

“You deserve it.”

His gaze moved back to yours. Yoongi had pretty eyes, deep eyes that told tales of suffering and healing. He had gone through a lot, to get where he was now. From the interviews you had listened to, you actually had a similar past to his. And you felt understood, as he gazed at you. With a softness to his eyes you had never really seen anywhere else.

Min Yoongi had experienced the worst this world has to offer, but he had also experienced the best. You could only hope your turn would come someday.

You took a sip, holding his gaze for a moment, before cowering away. “You know,” you started. And you didn’t really know what to say. Only thought he might understand. “It was my birthday, today.”

He straightened, surprise moving on his drunken features. “Was it?”

You nodded.

“Happy birthday,” he said, with a grave voice.

You shifted a little closer to him, only because he was looking at you with too much intensity for you to resist. The air turned warm, hot, filled with expectancy.

“Thank you.” You wet your lips, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Thank you for letting me record it.”

“I hope it helped.”

Another nod of your head, as you took yet another sip of the whiskey. This time mostly because the feeling inside of you needed to be ignored. To be avoided at all costs.

Too bad alcohol kills the inhibition, right?

You couldn’t even tell who did the first move. All you knew was that your glass was snatched from your hands, put down on the coffee table and then you were tasting the alcohol on Yoongi’s lips. The kiss was ravaging, taking your loneliness and burning it down, until all you could feel was Yoongi’s body under your hungry hands.

His own hands were all over you too. On your back, on the nape of your neck, in your hair. One large hand sneaked to the front until it had wrapped around your breast, and you moaned in his mouth. You grabbed a handful of his hair and sucked on his bottom lip as he pulled you closer.

You climbed on his lap, and you held yourself on his shoulders as your mouth found his again, kissing him with no restraint, no inhibition. Min Yoongi was a damn good kisser. It made you ache with want, as you imagined the other things his wicked tongue could do…

The hand on your breast hadn’t really moved since it had found it, so you put one of yours above it, pushing it harder. Searching for more pressure, more friction, anything that would make you forget the loneliness of the day.

Maybe Yoongi was trying to forget something too. You didn’t really care. It wasn’t like your brain could think past this moment or the next. All you were focused on was the now, and the bulge you were currently perched on.

You grinded your hips, probably a little too hard, and Yoongi grunted, pulling you closer, grabbing your hips until he could hold you in place. Yet he didn’t resist as you rocked your hips again, and the hold he had on your hips only turned you on even more.

You moved from his mouth to his neck, trailing wet kisses down until the collar of his shirt, and then up to his ear. He threw his head back to rest it on the couch, exposing the pretty column of his neck. You sucked on his Adam’s apple next, before finding his lips for yet another heated kiss.

As you kissed, tongues entwined, your hands moved down his chest, searching for the hem of his shirt. You pulled away from him just long enough to rid him of the piece of clothing, and you didn’t even look back to see where you had dropped it. You were too busy crashing your mouth on his again, chasing the remnants of the whiskey. He kissed you back with the same intensity, his large hands still holding your hips, though he let you have control of your movements.

The thought he was letting you do whatever you wanted made your blood sing, and you pulled away to kneel between his legs. He was breathing heavily as his eyes opened, meeting your gaze while you were working on his belt. You struggled with it for a bit, and he offered a helping hand as you moved to caress the length of him through his jeans. He instinctively bucked his hips, and you put your face down on his thigh as he finished unbuckling his belt.

You looked up at him innocently, before begrudgingly lifting your head so you could take off his pants. He pushed up from the couch just enough for the jeans to move under his ass, and soon enough all that was left between you and him was the white fabric of his boxer briefs. You barely hesitated before kissing the hardening length, and his hands clenched into fists on each side of him. It made you feel wicked, and you replaced your lips with your teeth, though you didn’t bite down.

Your goal wasn’t to hurt him after all. You just wanted to see how far Min Yoongi would go before begging you to suck his dick. So you teased him, teased the sensitive cock that was growing harder from all your ministrations. But you never gave in, never pulled the underwear down.

Yoongi breathed out an annoyed breath, and you smirked up at him. “Is there something that you want?”

His mouth fell open, and he looked startled that you asked, as if it wasn’t already clear what he wanted.

You landed another kiss on the tip of his dick, licking at the wet spot where his precum had leaked through the fabric. “Don’t you want something?”

He nodded.

“You’ll have to tell me with words,” you purred, and the smirk on your lips turned devilish as you pulled his underwear down, just enough for his cock to rest free on his stomach. You waited for him to say something, tutting as he just remained silent, with that same widened gaze as before. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Suck my dick,” he said with a small voice.

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t there something missing?”

He almost looked scared for a moment. Intimidated for sure. Even if he was the big name between the two of you, you currently had him wrapped around your finger.

“Please?” he tried.

“Good boy.��

You finally gave in to your desires and his, eyes dropping to the dick in front of you. As everything that came with Yoongi, his cock was pretty. Large enough that you knew it’d be a stretch, with a pretty tip that shone red. A bead of precum appeared on the slit, and you immediately leaned in, licking it.

Yoongi hissed, and from the corner of your eyes you could see his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was clenching his fists.

“You can touch me, you know,” you told him, grabbing one of his hands.

You meant to put it in your hair, but instead Yoongi grabbed a hold of your hand, his long fingers keeping you from moving.

Well, this was a start. You didn’t usually hold hands when you were sucking someone’s dick, but if that was what he wanted, then you were happy to oblige.

You got to work, licking a long stripe from the base of his dick up to the head, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive part before letting your lips close around it. You sucked on it, resting your tongue flat against the length of him before you went down, slowly, taking in as much of him as you could. You stopped when he hit the back of your throat, and he grunted once again. His free hand flew to your hair, pulling it to the side so he could look at you.

You moved back up, playing with his frenulum as he was almost out before going down again, quicker this time.

Yoongi never forced you to suck his dick. Only hissed and grunted, as you worked on him, his dick hardening in your mouth with every bob of your head. He tasted good, and you started going faster, just to hear more of the pretty sounds he let out when he hit the back of your throat.

You moaned around him, testing the waters to see if he liked that. Most guys usually did, and Yoongi wasn’t any different. He met your gaze, and he looked spent for a moment, a panting mess under the ministrations of your mouth.

He licked his lips as you hollowed your cheeks, drawing circles on his dick before you pulled out. You sat back on your heels, jerking him off quickly as you met his gaze.

“I want to sit on your face.”

If he was surprised, he gave you no indications of it. Only let go of your hand so he could lie down on the couch. You let out a small laugh, cocking your head to the side.

“You’ll have to undress me first.”

“Right,” he muttered, and he sat up quickly, hands reaching for you.

You couldn’t resist moving closer until you could press your lips on his. He wasn’t expecting it, and it took him a few seconds before he was kissing you back with the same fervor you had applied to his dick. Which was a lot, and you moaned in his mouth as his tongue found yours. You let him have dominance this time, just because his hands were undressing you, unbuttoning your pants and fighting to get them down your legs.

You pulled away from the kiss so you could stand up, and a second later your pants were pooling around your ankles. You weren’t wearing particularly attractive panties, so you took them off yourself, and the piece of clothing met your pants on the ground a second before you were stepping out of the pile.

You took off your shirt yourself as you were climbing on his lap again, and you grinded on his dick once before motioning to the couch. “Lay down.”

He wet his lips, nodding a single time before he started moving. You stood just long enough for him to be able to lay down, and then you were already climbing back on top of him, legs on each side of his face. He grabbed your thighs as you lowered yourself on him, and the first lap of his tongue on you had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You hadn’t been wrong. Yoongi knew how to use that wicked tongue of his. Dipping it deep inside of you to get a taste, before focusing on your clit. Torturing it with a light pressure, until you grinded into his face to seek for more. He got the message then and he flattened his tongue, pressing into you harder, lapping you in time with the grinding of your hips.

Unfortunately for you, you had never really been able to come when you were drunk. No matter how hard you chased the high, it always evaded you. Yoongi was by far the best you had had in a while. Or it was just the fact he was Min Yoongi, and he was pliant to all your wishes. Listening to you when you told him to press circles on your clit, obeying when you suggested sucking instead.

He really was wrapped around your finger, wasn’t he?

“Fuck, you’re so good,” you praised him, the sentence finishing in a moan. It only made him work harder, and your legs were shaking by the time you spoke again. “Do you have condoms?”

He couldn’t reply. Not when you were riding his face like that. So you reluctantly moved down his body, and he gulped in air as you sat back on his dick.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You let out an unexpected laugh, and a smile appeared on his lips. It disappeared as soon as you crashed your mouth on his, and he grabbed your face to kiss you deeply. His chin was wet from your juice, but you didn’t care. You tasted all of yourself on him, licking him clean until you were satisfied.

When you sat back on him, he had a dazed expression on his features. His hair was a mess all around his head, and you let out another small laugh as you bent, just enough for your hands to reach the strands, taming them gently.

His eyes had gone dark when you straightened again. You wondered if what you had done was wrong, but you didn’t want to know. So you moved your hips, circling on his dick, and he hissed again.

“Do you have condoms?” you repeated the question.

His hands rested on your thighs, caressing them up and down as he said, “In my bedroom”.

You grinded again. “As much as I’d like for you to fuck me raw, we should get a condom.” You got up, albeit reluctantly, and you offered him a hand.

The perspective that he was about to fuck you probably chased whatever darkness had invaded him, because he grabbed your hand as he stood, before bending down to take his whiskey glass too. He chugged it, and you only had time to take a hold of yours before he was pulling you behind him.

You drank small sips of your glass as you followed Yoongi, eyes falling to his ass. It was pretty, and you were once again struck with how everything was pretty when it came to Min Yoongi. For all the rough edges of his professional personality, Yoongi was pretty, with softness behind the mask.

And you could glimpse at the softness, as he pulled you behind him, uncaring that you were both naked halfway up his staircase. His thumb drew circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly, and you held his hand a little tighter.

It did feel less lonely, all of a sudden.

Min Yoongi’s bedroom was dark. Walls painted in a dark shade of grey, comforter ink black. The only light thing in his room was the canvas over the headboard of his bed. A painting, abstract at that, in shades of white and beige that seemed like a beacon in the darkness of the wall. The furniture in the room was black too, and the tiled ceramic floor completed the décor in its own shade of grey, almost matching the paint on the wall.

The room was tidy, so tidy you weren’t even sure anyone lived here. But then Yoongi let go of your hand, carelessly walking to a night table, and his gaze slid to you as you stopped at the entrance.

You cocked your head to the side, downing the rest of your glass with your eyes still holding on to his gaze. His chest moved quickly, up and down, as if he was out of breath. And maybe he was, and the predatory look you set on him made adrenaline run through his blood. He wet his lips, and his gaze dropped, before sliding to his bedside table.

He fished a condom out of it, and he was about to tear the package open when you talked.

“Let me do it.”

He froze, and then a smirk moved on his lips. It made everything in you sing with burning lust, and you crossed the distance between the two of you. You dropped your glass on the bedside table, before biting in your bottom lip as you turned to face him. He held out the package for you to take, and you took it from his long fingers. You had expected his hand to drop at his side, but he instead moved it between the two of you, cupping your breast through the bralette you were wearing.

You gulped, instinctively stepping closer to press his hand harder against you, just the way you liked it. He understood, and his other hand cupped your other breast. He massaged them, hard, pinching your nipples through the fabric of the bralette. The friction of the fabric on the sensitive buds had stars forming on the periphery of your vision, and you let out a moan as you tore the package of the condom open, fishing the actual condom out with eager fingers.

You didn’t have time to reach down to his dick before Yoongi moved on his knees. He sucked on the skin of your thigh, hard, leaving a purple bruise behind that he soothed with a kiss.

“Let me just eat you out more, mmh?”

You didn’t have the ability to say no, so you sat on his bed and pulled his head closer to your heat, other hand clutching the condom so it wouldn’t fall on the comforter.

Yoongi’s tongue truly was skilled. And it moved fast on your clit. You could see the mirage of an orgasm on the horizon, but the alcohol in your blood kept it away, frustratingly so. Even when Yoongi slid two fingers inside of you, curling them to hit a sweet spot inside of you. It felt divine, and you moaned for him, telling him just how good he was. It made him work harder, and he eventually whined, resting his head on your thigh to look at you.

“I want to feel you on my dick,” he said, and he sounded almost shy. As if voicing his desires was forbidden.

You bit your lip again, letting out a ragged breath as your heart beat wildly in your chest, almost drowning out his words. “Then get on the bed.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly laid down next to you, stroking his dick as you kneeled next to him. You swatted the hand away, and he smirked again as you started rolling the condom down his length. You jerked him off a couple of times when you were done, before climbing on his lap.

He watched you carefully. As if he was only then realizing what was happening. He still let you position him at your entrance, and you sunk down, just enough for his tip to start parting your folds.

“Can I?” you asked, stopping there.

He wet his lips. “Please.”

It was your turn to smirk wickedly, as you sunk down on him until most of him was inside of you. It stretched, but he had prepared you so well he slid right in, and you moaned as he bottomed out.

“You’re big,” you praised him. “What a good fucking boy.”

His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging in the supple skin. “You say that as if you’re not fucking wet for me.”

Oh. Min Yoongi did have a dominant bone in him.

“Aish,” you moaned. “You’re going to fuck me, mmh?”

He sat up a little, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you down with him. “If you ask so nicely.”

You were surprised by the small laugh that fell from your mouth, but it quickly died as Yoongi started jackhammering his hips against yours, his dick fucking into your walls so deliciously, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He held you tight against him as he fucked you, and your dominant side returned as he let out a moan in your ear.

Your hand snaked between your bodies, until it was wrapped around his throat, finding the two sides of it. You cut the blood supply to his brain, fingers digging in the arteries, and he let out a louder moan this time, something that somehow resembled your name. Still he didn’t slow down, and you sucked on the side of his jaw, mouth needing to do something to muffle the pleasured sounds that kept tumbling from it.

You released your grip on Yoongi’s throat after a time, and you moved until you could catch his lips for a quick yet languid kiss. You swallowed the grunts he let out before sitting up on him. He only then slowed the roll of his hips, and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours.

“Let me fuck myself on you a little,” you said, head cocked to the side. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Please.”

You didn’t need more to start moving, slowly, in a dance that had to be frustrating to him after the relentless pace he had set. Yet it felt heavenly, stretching all of you wide open, the drag of his dick along your velvet walls making you reach for something to hold on to. It turned out to be your breasts, and your hands slipped under the bralette as you palmed yourself.

“So fucking good,” you breathed, and Yoongi’s large hands settled on your hips again, guiding you on him.

Making you roll your hips more, impaling you on him until he was fully in.

“I think I could fuck you all night,” he declared, and he seemed astonished. As if he hadn’t expected the ordeal to feel this good. And it did feel good, far more than you had ever thought it could.

“Hope you have good stamina then,” you said, half teasing, but the lustful look adorning his gaze told you that he just might fuck you all night.

“For you?” He wet his lips, moaning as you circled your hips in just the right way. “Fuck, I could come like this.”

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t let you continue. He stilled your hips, before sitting up again. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and the following moment disappeared in your mind, dizziness taking the forefront of the scene as Yoongi spun you until you were lying down, with him on top of you.

It took him a few seconds to realize he might have moved you too quickly, but he soon said, “Are you okay?”

You huffed out a breath, eyes fluttering closed. “That was dizzying.”

He chuckled, and he pushed back inside of you. You hadn’t felt him fall out, but you sure as hell felt him as he slowly slid in, all the way.

“I wanted to see what you look like under me.”

You opened your eyes, and you were relieved to see the world was not turning as much anymore. “Like the sight?” you teased, and your hand shot between you to press circles on your clit, lazily.

“Fuck,” he grunted, and then he was thrusting into you again, fast and hard.

You cried out a delighted moan and you timed your ministrations on your clit with his movements, until everything seemed to blend in together.

Yoongi fucked you for a while. He did have good stamina, and the more you praised him the more he kept going, with sweat dripping from his forehead, wetting locks of his hair. He looked sinfully good, the sounds he made a melody you had never imagined you’d hear, one that mixed with your own moans until it was a song, of passion and desire and everything in between.

You couldn’t quite tell how long it lasted. Only that Yoongi’s movement grew sloppier, his breathing ragged as he bent down to hide his face in your neck. He sucked a spot on your skin, and your hand found the nape of his neck to hold him in place.

“I think we’re too drunk,” you murmured as Yoongi slid in and out, slowly, but never fully stopping.

“You feel so good.”

You chuckled, and your fingers drew circles on his scalp for a few seconds before you replied, “We won’t come”.

Yoongi persisted for a time, dragging his length inside of you until you started digging your nails in the skin of his back. “Right.” He thrusted in twice more, before stopping all the way in, his dick fully impaling you. “You just feel so good.”

You stayed like that for a time, unmoving, your breaths in sync as your hearts slowly returned to a normal rhythm. Yoongi’s dick had gone soft by the time he pulled out, yet he remained on top of you, breathing in your scent.

“I should go,” you said after what felt like an eternity. Your eyelids were drooping, and you held him close to you as you spoke the words.

“Stay for the night,” Yoongi murmured, his lips moving against your neck. His voice was deep, scratchy, and it made you want to be closer to him, until you were blended with his soul.

He was comfort. For a reason unknown, Min Yoongi was comfort personified, and you really didn’t want to go. Even if you were slowly coming down from the buzz of alcohol. You sighed, before pushing him to the side.

“You’re crushing me,” you admitted, and he let out a small chuckle, before rolling to the side.

He settled next to you, an arm draped around your stomach, face nuzzled into your neck. His proximity felt strange. For someone that usually seemed closed off, Min Yoongi appeared to have let you in… tonight.

Was it the song, or the fact that you had been alone on your birthday? Had he found pity in you, and tried to gift you with his own form of comfort? It made you feel pathetic, but his steady breathing as he fell asleep calmed you down, melted your worries away, until sleep found you in its hold too.

Yoongi didn’t let go of you while he slept.

*****

Dawn was grey. Colourless, as if the sun was the source of all colours in this world. As if its absence kept the colours at bay, changed them into shades of black and grey that melted together in a strange picture. It was unfamiliar, foreign, as if you weren’t supposed to be awake at this hour.

It took you a moment to realize the greyness wasn’t from dawn, but from the colour on the walls. A moment longer for the pounding in your head to awaken, reminding you of the alcohol you had ingested the night before.

You weren’t at home. In fact, you were lying on a mattress far more comfortable than anything you could ever own, in a luxurious yet sparsely decorated room that was far from your own.

The comforter had slipped from your body as you slept, and you shivered from the chill air. A breeze was playing in the curtains by the window, and it smelled of rain, though the panes of the window were still dry. You turned your head to the side, afraid of the sight that would come.

Min Yoongi looked like a prince, lying next to you. His hair formed a crown around his head where it rested on the pillow, and his soft features looked regal in the morning light. His mouth was slightly opened, and little snores came out of him each time he exhaled.

His hand had fallen from your stomach at some point in the night. It rested next to you now, fingers reaching towards you but not really touching. As if he had never meant to let go in the first place. Still, you were glad he had.

Because with the morning, reality rushed back in.

It ceased you, grabbed your heart and squeezed it in your chest as you watched him sleep for a moment longer. Just because he was peaceful, and you wished to revel in the peace. Refused to let reality crush this moment, not before you had it committed to memory, locking it up in a safe corner of your heart.

But when it was locked up, you took the key and threw it away, never to be found again.

You blinked the grogginess away, eyes searching around you for your clothes. It took you a few seconds to remember you had discarded all of the fabric downstairs last night, except your bralette, and you winced at the thought that you would have to go down there naked to get dressed again.

You sat up, shivering once again in the chill air, goosebumps raising on your flesh until your skin looked pricked by it. You glanced at Yoongi before getting up. The song came back to your mind – the gut-wrenching lyrics screaming of loneliness, of never finding solace in people’s company, of seeking for a family that never comes.

Loneliness felt worse in the grey light of dawn. And right on cue, rain started splattering on the window, drowning out the sounds of Yoongi sleeping, and the rustle of the sheets as you slipped out of the bed.

The ceramic floor was warm under your feet, and you tiptoed your way to the door. Not daring to look back, barely even daring to breathe. You didn’t want Yoongi to wake up, not when you were about to leave without saying goodbye.

For some reason, you thought he might understand. You thought Yoongi could understand that loneliness sometimes needed to be dealt with alone. No matter how salvaging last night had been for the lone heart in your chest, the morning called for something else. For reality to settle back in. What had happened last night was unprofessional, inherently so, and it filled you with dread.

Maybe that was the reason you were fleeing after all.

You reached the door, hand settling on the knob. You couldn’t resist looking back then, as if you just needed to make sure that this moment had been real. Yoongi’s hands had moved a little while you were walking away, fingers reaching for your warmth. A frown moved on his features as he didn’t find it, but they relaxed as he exhaled loudly.

He was still sound asleep, and infinitely peaceful. You hoped nothing would ever break his peace.

You slipped out of the bedroom, shutting the door soundlessly behind you before walking down to the living room, where you put on your clothes. You had half a thought of leaving a note behind, to explain why you hadn’t stayed, but you didn’t know where Yoongi might have paper in his condo, and you didn’t want to linger around long enough for him to wake up.

You were putting on your shoes when he appeared at the top of the stairs, draped in a white robe to keep the cold at bay. His features were back in the same icy mask he had sported at the beginning of the night yesterday, and you gulped as he stared you down.

“You’re leaving early,” he stated as he leaned against the wall, folding his arms on his chest.

His hair was a mess from last night – long gone was the crown you had woken up to see. He looked unkempt, and there was a line from his pillow on his face. It made him look human, terribly so, and you felt bad for wanting to leave.

“I don’t think I belong here,” you admitted.

With a small voice, as small as the fear inside of you. Because yes, you were lonely. But being here in this too big condo with someone that was just supposed to be a work collaborator… it made you feel out of place.

A line appeared between Yoongi’s brows, and he pushed up from the wall to start walking down the stairs. “I invited you to sleep over, you have all the rights to be here.”

You wet your lips, chasing the frustration of not being understood away. “I mean, we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” You watched as Yoongi finished walking down the stairs, sitting on the very last step. “It was fun, I won’t deny it, but it was unprofessional.”

He leaned against the wall again, looking at you with a gaze that made you feel naked, as if he was seeing right through your soul. You turned your head away, wanting to flee but not having the courage to do so when his eyes were on you. As if, if you stayed unmoving, maybe the whole situation would disappear. Maybe he wouldn’t see you anymore, the way that he was seeing you now.

“It was,” he agreed, to your surprise. “I’m not big on regrets though, I’ve had enough of them for a lifetime.”

“I-” you caught yourself before you added more.

I what? I don’t regret it? I’m not big on regrets either? Why then did this morning taste awfully like regret?

Yoongi just held your gaze, not prodding but visibly expecting you to continue. Maybe you owed him as much.

“I’m just afraid it will ruin our professional relationship,” you admitted.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I thought so. I can always push back releasing the song if you prefer.”

Your eyes widened, right as your heart stopped in your chest. Did he know how much you needed the money? Did he know that you were on the verge of giving up on your dreams because you couldn’t afford your apartment?

“I don’t know,” you said, and it was true. You didn’t know if you wanted to risk not releasing the song, but you didn’t know if you wanted to keep working with Yoongi in the immediate future either.

You needed to get rid of the loneliness alone after all.

“Then think about it,” Yoongi suggested. “I can always pay for all the work that you did, and if you feel like releasing it some day you just let me know.”

You pursed your lips. It was a good idea. A decent suggestion, yet it felt wrong. Because releasing the song was certain to open up the world to you. Or so you had been hoping. Could you give up on that dream?

“I will,” you said. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know.”

Yoongi nodded, before stretching his legs in front of him. “Can we talk before you leave though?”

You didn’t know what he wanted to talk about. Only knew that the longer you were to stay here, the more the loneliness was going to drown you.

“What is there to talk about?”

His features turned grave. You were struck that he looked as if he was going to announce the end of the world, as if the Earth was about to stop turning and you’d all crash into a wall at eighty miles per hour.

“I have to admit something,” he said. His eyes found the floor again, though he had been avoiding your gaze for a moment now. “I have someone in my life.”

A lump formed in your throat. A disgusting, guilty lump that tasted like bile. “You cheated on someone with me?”

He slowly shook his head no. “We’re on a break. I just thought you deserved to know.”

The loneliness was real. It was a feeling you knew all too well, in all of its labyrinths and corners. It wove its way in every crevice of your soul, and God knew your soul was filled with crevices. With cracks, from all the times you had needed to glue yourself back together.

“Oh.”

It was all you could voice as the enormity of his revelation dawned on you. Was that why he had looked upset yesterday? Had he tried to forget his own loneliness by drowning in you?

Had it worked?

“I’m sorry.”

Min Yoongi did look apologetic, but you found him a coward. A coward for avoiding your gaze like he was right now, for looking devastated sitting there on the stairs. And maybe he truly was devastated, if he was on a break with the person that he loved.

Why had you come when you were at your most vulnerable?

“Thank you for your honesty,” you said, voice blanched with the horror in you. Because you were horrified, to think you had slept with a man that belonged to another. Though the pounding in your head reminded you that it was alcohol that had caused the ordeal, that it wasn’t you, and you clung to that thought.

Because if your inhibitions hadn’t been lowered, you would have never slept with Min Yoongi.

He remained silent for a little eternity, and then somewhere in himself he found the courage to look at you again. You almost wished he hadn’t.

“Do you want me to send you the song today, still?”

It was a fair question. One that could bring you back in the charted territory of your professional relationship. It felt safer, and you let out a shaky breath to calm the pit in your chest.

The pit had always been there, you reckoned. It just was harder to ignore on this dreadful dawn.

“Sure,” you answered, though you had no intention to listen to it.

No, it was probably better to put this all in the past. To forget the comfort Yoongi had brought to you last night. You almost wished you had been able to run before he’d woken up, but you weren’t a coward. This conversation would have been needed at some point.

“Is there something you want to say?” Yoongi enquired, gently. With a voice that sounded far older than he was, far wiser than he had to be.

“I don’t know.” You parted your lips as you wanted to continue speaking, but nothing came out. So you shut your mouth, rocking back and forth on your heels as anxiety spiked through you, replacing the initial horror. “I am sorry it happened.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. As I told you, I don’t do regrets anymore.”

You would have liked to be able to tell if he was lying, but Min Yoongi was an unreadable book when he wanted to be.

“I hope you fix your relationship,” you said. You really did, if only to forget last night had ever happened. He remained silent, lips stretched in a tight smile. “I…” you trailed off, and it was your turn to lower your gaze to the floor. “I appreciated last night, though.”

He wet his lips. “I won’t lie to you. I appreciated it too.”

“But life is life, isn’t it?” It was a rhetorical question, one he didn’t reply to. “I guess I��ll go.”

He sighed, loud enough for you to hear. It wasn’t an annoyed sigh. No, it sounded as if he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

So much for not regretting, uh?

“I’ll send you the song,” he reiterated. “Please take care of yourself.”

It made a drop of anger fall in the ocean of loneliness you were drowning in. Because you had shown him the darkness in you last night, and he had hidden the truth from you. And maybe he didn’t even owe it to you, you just wished he had said something last night, before it was too late.

Before your body knew that it was molded to fit his perfectly.

“Will do,” you replied curtly.

You turned away from him then, hoping he couldn’t see the hurt in your eyes. You didn’t even know if you were allowed to be hurt. Didn’t even know if you were actually hurt, or if you just needed to be alone.

In all the misery that it brought you, loneliness was your comfort zone.

*****

The days had stretched into eternity, busking keeping your mind from rushing back to the events you had partaken in with Min Yoongi. Minhyuk had been appalled, when you had told him that the song would likely never be released. You had told him enough about what had happened with Yoongi, without ever really confirming that you had slept together, yet Minhyuk hadn’t let it go.

He only had when you had received the money Min Yoongi had promised to pay, earlier this afternoon. It was an astronomical sum for someone who got by with busking. As your contract with Minhyuk asked for, you had shared half the sum with him, and still it left you with far more money than you had ever owned.

Min Yoongi hadn’t offered an explanation as to why he had paid you so much money. And you hadn’t asked for one yet, choosing to go to Hongdae to change your mind instead. To remind you that busking was who you were, even if you hadn’t rented an area for tonight.

No, tonight you would just walk around and watch people live their lives. Happy, smiling, unaware of the abyss you felt like you were drowning in.

Seeing Min Yoongi on your birthday had been a mistake. The anger had turned into something else, something far more intimidating. Disgust with yourself, with your acts and your choices. Regret that you hadn’t stopped when you should have, and that he hadn’t said anything before it was too late.

You wondered if he was back with the person that owned his heart. If you leaving like that had pushed him back in their arms, if their relationship had found grounds to work again.

You were jealous. But also hurt… because Yoongi had been comfort. You wished you had told him, wish he had known what it had meant for you to be with him on your birthday like that. When you laid awake at night, sleep evading you, you wondered if it would have made a difference.

Would Min Yoongi have let you go on that dreadful dawn if you had told him?

You couldn’t know. But then again, sometimes, during those same sleepless nights, you wondered if it was too late. If there was a chance you could tell him. If he had chosen not to get back with his partner.

If he too sometimes laid awake at night thinking about your body against his.

Loneliness was making you go crazy inside.

You sighed, taking a deep breath of the fresh evening air. Hongdae was lively. Filled with laughter and chatter. And with your own dark cloud, that seemed to loom over you wherever you went now.

You were at a low point in life. You were aware of it. It was hard to see the good in things when you had turned your back on the little sense of company you had been able to find in Yoongi. Though he hadn’t really been company, no? Just a brief connection in a sea of temporary people.

Only Minhyuk stayed around, and he only did because he worked for you.

But the money… The money was more than you had ever thought you’d have. It made you wonder, was that what celebrities made when they worked together? Why such astronomical sums for people that didn’t even need money in the first place?

Or maybe Yoongi had known that you were struggling with money. Maybe that was his way of apologizing. You weren’t prideful enough to hate him for it. As a matter of fact, you had been debating calling him to thank him, or even going to his place. Maybe that was why you were in Hongdae after all.

Long walks to clear your mind usually always worked, didn’t they?

A couple in front of you burst out laughing, and the guy grabbed his girlfriend’s hand, pulling her in a hug. Public displays of affection were rare in Korea, but Hongdae held a different crowd. A looser one, that didn’t live up to the expectations of elders. It was a crowd you found you rather enjoyed, especially as you busked and they enjoyed your music.

You brought happiness to their lives, didn’t you? Why then was happiness evading you?

You scoffed, and the guy threw you a glance. Your eyes dipped to the floor, and you almost winced in embarrassment. You thought about telling him that you weren’t scoffing because of him, but it would have been useless, wouldn’t it?

His attention was already back on his girlfriend, as if he was but the mere moon and she the Earth. It was cute. It really was, in a heart-wrenching kind of way.

So much for dealing with loneliness alone, right?

You wanted to talk to Yoongi. Wanted to thank him, wanted to let him know he had been the first to make you feel something in a long time. Hell, you hadn’t had sex in over a year before him.

Could you just go and talk to him? Could you tell him that you had been too shaken that morning, and that you hadn’t been able to tell him the thoughts in your skull? Your imprisoned mind, clustered in a dark corner of your head, had been subdued to your loneliness.

Surely he would understand.

A group of friends walked past you, and their joy felt contagious. You wanted to cling to the feeling of your lips stretching into a smile, wanted to use the warmth they carried themselves with to forget the cold in you.

Being a lyricist made you far too dramatic for your own good, didn’t it? Because you could see around yourself, people that were alone too. Walking with their hands in their pockets, with light in their eyes as they watched the scene around you. It didn’t have to be a sad scene. You didn’t have to cling to the sadness.

It didn’t matter that it was your comfort zone. If you ever wanted to get better, you had to stop using it as a shield. Had to shrug the coat off, and step into the summer warmth, leaving the winter cold behind.

Only, it was still cold at this time of the year.

You thought about Minhyuk. Minhyuk, who had always believed in you. Who trusted that you would make it someday, that he just had to encourage you in the process. Minhyuk, who had fallen in love with one of his friends, and had a beautiful love story to call his now.

There was happiness in this world. And you weren’t selfish enough to believe you didn’t deserve happiness. It was just hard to find it when your family had forgotten about you, when you woke up to learn he belonged to another.

You didn’t have feelings for Min Yoongi. At least you tried to convince yourself of it. You didn’t really know what you felt. Only that what had happened on your birthday had to be caused by more than just the alcohol. Because it hadn’t been your first time being vulnerable and drunk in a man’s company. It had been your first time jumping on that man though.

You had enjoyed working with him. Had found his work ethic inspiring, and had felt as if your soul was singing whenever you worked on music together. There was something in Min Yoongi that resonated in you, as if his existence triggered a harmonious frequency inside of you. A terribly unprofessional harmonious frequency, yet you hadn’t found friction to slow it down. Only had your treacherous thoughts and sleepless nights.

Maybe talking to him would release you. Would free the mind that was clustered in your skull, would let it fly into the sky again, to soar above clouds and mountains and valleys.

You probably needed it. Needed to say thank you for the money, and tell him you would find the strength to listen to the song someday. Just not when you were already so vulnerable.

And a hidden, dark corner of your heart also wanted to tell him how you had felt that night. Wanted to tell him he was comfort personified, and that you were thankful you had had the chance to experience it, even if it had been but a mere, fleeting moment in your life.

A romantic through and through, weren’t you?

Or maybe it was just Hongdae’s air, and the ambiance it held. Of happiness, that you could find if only you reached out far enough.

And life was about risk, wasn’t it? If you never talked to Min Yoongi, never told him the thoughts in your imprisoned mind, then you would be stuck with them for the rest of your life. Stuck with their decaying form, until they turned your memory into a prison in and of itself too.

You didn’t want the memory of Min Yoongi to turn into decay. Wanted to remember the good parts of it and let go of the bad. He was the one saying he didn’t do regrets anymore, wasn’t he?

Maybe you didn’t have to regret this either. But for that, you needed to tell him the feelings in your mind.

You sighed, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Long walks really did wonders to you, didn’t they?

You should have left your apartment before.

Instead of beating yourself up for it, you took a few steadying breaths, before heading straight to the nearest subway station. It wasn’t particularly late, and by chance you’d get to his place before the hour would be indecent.

It wasn’t like night hours were indecent to Min Yoongi. He was a night owl, much like you were too. Him letting you in his condo the last time at such a late hour was proof enough of it.

It was in that mindset that you made your way to his condo, with no gifts this time. Considering where the last time had led you, you didn’t want to risk offering him anything. You just wanted to talk. To tell him thank you for that night. For making you realize that you weren’t quite alone in this big wide universe.

This time, Min Yoongi wasn’t outside when you arrived. It occurred to you that there was a possibility he wasn’t even home, but then again he had always come off to you as the kind of person that usually stayed in most of the time. So you walked into the building, nodding your head curtly at the security.

It was the same person you had seen the two other times you were here, and you had become familiar enough to them so that they’d let you pass without asking a question. You were glad for it – you didn’t know what you would have told them anyway. You had no business being here, belonged to an entire other world.

Still, you found yourself on Min Yoongi’s door mat. Fist hovering in front of the door, not daring to knock or ring the bell. You stayed there for a good five minutes, trying to assemble enough courage to make a move, but all you could do was stare.

It seemed staring was enough, because five minutes later, after you rang the bell, the door turned on its hinges, and Min Yoongi appeared.

His gaze widened, quite at the same time as yours did. Blood flushed your cheeks, and you let your hand fall at your side.

“Seonbaenim,” you greeted him, an echo of your greeting the last time you had seen him. Your lips stretched into an easy smile, and you wondered if your heart picking up its rate in your chest was a normal physiological response to the presence of Min Yoongi.

Maybe it was.

Yoongi didn’t move. In fact, he looked as if he was holding his breath, and as if all colour had leached from his features.

You understood why when a small figure appeared behind him, and all colour leached from your features next.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and her eyes slid to you. “Who’s that?”

Your brain went empty. Entirely empty. There was the sound of ringing, but everything else was distant, as your vision blurred on the edges, until all there was was a tunnel leading right to Min Yoongi’s pretty features.

The moment stretched into infinity, and your heart rocked against your ribcage three times before Yoongi spoke. You didn’t hear his voice, only saw the lips you had been kissing just a couple of weeks ago moving. And then the pretty girl disappeared from view, features casted into a frown, and all that was left was Min Yoongi and you. Him, inside of his home; you, in the hallway.

It felt like two entire different worlds.

“I didn’t know you were going to come,” he said.

Sensations rushed back to you, and your gaze dropped to the floor.

“I…” you trailed off.

“Is it about the song?”

All you could do was nod, as you blanched standing there. And you did blanch, as if all your blood had exited your body. It was dizzying, and oxygen felt foreign in your lungs.

He led you inside. Right to the studio. You could hear the girl talking as you made your way there, likely to the dog from the sounds of it. And then Yoongi shut the door of his studio, and the sounds faded to nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

It was all he said, as you just stood there not knowing where to look. Not knowing what to do. Not knowing if it was right for you to be in here.

“Oh,” you let out. You wet your lips – had they been so dry this whole time? “I came to say thank you for the money.”

He watched you carefully for a few beats of silence, before replying, “You deserved it”.

You chuckled. Bitterly, achingly, or somewhere in between. “I’m not sure I’m worth all of that.”

“I paid you the amount of money your work is worth,” he declared simply. He moved in the room, sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “It was the right thing to do.”

You slowly nodded, before glancing over your shoulder. “Is that…”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence for him to understand. He looked apologetic, once your gaze settled on him again.

“It is,” he confirmed.

It had no business hurting as bad as it did, and yet you felt as if your heart was ripped in two. “Oh.”

His hands were folded in his lap, his shoulders hung low. He looked horrified, somehow, as if only then realizing that all that had happened was wrong. Wrong, and the kind of thing one should regret.

“Have you listened to the song?”

You held his gaze for as long as your heart could manage, before letting it drop to the comfort of the rug on the floor. “No. We probably shouldn’t release it.”

You felt out of breath. The breakthrough you had had while in Hongdae was foreign now, as if it had happened to someone else. Loneliness caught up to you, and all you could do was watch the fall as it happened.

“I’ll put it on hold.” He sounded disappointed, and he wasn’t looking at you anymore when your eyes flitted to him.

How had he been comfort? He was all but comfort now, the source of the ever-growing loneliness that was seeping through every inch of you.

“Thank you.”

Another silence. You were drowning. Drowning in the heaviness in you. It was like quick sands – nothing could stop the sinking, the fall. Falling and falling. You had thought you would fall into him, hadn’t wanted to let yourself formulate the thought, but the hope had been there. The hope had been there, and now you were falling away from him.

“Listen,” Yoongi started. He paused, ran a hand through his hair, folded his arms on his chest, let his fingers fall back into his lap. “I am sorry.” He wet his lips, and you found the strength to look at him. He wasn’t looking at you, and it didn’t seem as if he’d ever have the courage to do it. “I don’t want us to be left on bad terms.”

“We are nothing to each other, aren’t we?” you commented, voice sounding strangely high even to your own ears. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“I honestly didn’t think you were going to come back.”

“I never should have been here in the first place.”

His eyes kept at their journey on the rug, as if he could see lines down there, or maybe one of those drawing you traced with numbers. It was hard to know what he could imagine, hard to know the thoughts in his head.

Could he tell you were falling?

“I know,” he said. His voice was tired, exhausted, remorseful. For someone that didn’t want to regret anything, you could tell he was regretting this, far more than you had expected he would. “She came back two days ago.”

So, if you had been there a week ago, the end would have been different? Now, where would you be when the end came? Alone, as always.

“I’m happy for you.” You surprised even yourself at how genuine you sounded. Maybe because it truly was genuine. Min Yoongi deserved to have someone that loved him around. Someone he loved too. After all he had been through, he deserved it.

He said your name. Intimately, not with any formalities he usually reserved for it. It hurt, far more than everything before. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassured him, even if it sounded false. “It was one night, I’m just a little… shocked.”

You tried to play it cool with a smile, but his eyes were still stubbornly following the lines of his invisible drawing, so he didn’t see it.

“I understand.”

You weren’t sure if he really understood. You didn’t even know what there was to understand. You had slept with Min Yoongi once when you had both been vulnerable, and he had fixed his relationship after. It was just life. You weren’t one to catch feelings easily. He had just been comfort, and it always hurt when comfort was ripped from you, didn’t it?

It was going to pass. Even now, a few minutes later, it was lesser. The initial ache in your heart turning dull, and oxygen returning to your lungs and blood. It didn’t quite feel like drowning anymore, and you could watch him without feeling like your heart was going to stop.

No, you just wanted to go home and forget this ever happened. Blame it all on a fever dream, and move on with your life.

“It was nice to work with you,” you said. Your voice had returned to its normal tone, and you took in a steadying breath. “I’m going to treasure the memory.”

At that he looked at you. “So will I.”

You exchanged a long look. Filled with words unsaid, with possibilities that could have happened had you never left that morning, or had you come back before. Had he been waiting for you? Had he considered not getting back together with her if you were to come first? It was hard to tell, and yet it didn’t make you feel anything. No, the initial shock and hurt really had dwindled away, because you were even able to smile at him, a tight-lipped smile but one nonetheless.

Or maybe your coping mechanism had just come in clutch, pushing all emotions to the deep, dark depths of your heart.

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

He slowly nodded. “You deserved it. You really did.” He seemed to consider it for a time, before he added, “You are an amazing artist. I’ll be on the lookout for what you release next”.

You chuckled. “We’ll see what I come up with.” You looked around, committing the setting to memory. Committing Min Yoongi to memory, him and his long hair and sad eyes.

“If you ever want to release the song, just let me know,” he said.

You weren’t sure that would ever happen, but if it could ease the remorse in his sad gaze then you would give it to him. “I will, I promise.”

He nodded once more, wetting his lips. “And if you ever need anything, I’m just a call away.”

A call and a world away. Min Yoongi wouldn’t be your comfort. Had probably never been comfort to you, you had just been blinded by the loneliness of your birthday.

“Right back at you,” you said, because it was the civilized thing to say. “I doubt I have anything that you might need though.” It was said like a joke, but it landed in deaf ears, because Yoongi just looked sadder.

“You would be surprised.”

Four words that you hated. That you found yourself to hate for a long time, after you left Min Yoongi’s place that night. Never looking back, not even as you walked outside, each step feeling like another crevice forming, until you were back to that same pathetic lonely self you had been before him.

You were going to need to pick your pieces up yourself, were you?

*****

Present day

Doing interviews still felt foreign. Strange, as if they were meant for someone else than you. Someone that existed a year ago, someone that was just a regular busker.

Not someone that had just sold out an entire concert venue. It still felt unreal, and you always thought you were going to wake up from the dream some day. Thing was, you only woke up to more comments, to more views on your videos.

All thanks to a certain BTS member you had been trying to forget. Three months ago, Min Yoongi had mentioned you in an interview. It had been uncalled for, out of nowhere really. He had been asked what inspired him with his music and he had said fellow artists. When the interviewer had pushed for names, it was yours that Yoongi had given, and Army had immediately jumped on the boat.

Until you were the talk of Korea as the new soloist that everyone needed to know. It was crazy, how your life had changed in just a few months. Now, people recognized you when you walked in the street, fans asked for your pictures. You didn’t know if you liked it, but it was a dream come true.

Your parents had called you, once. You hadn’t picked up, and they hadn’t tried again. You lived in blissful peace now, without the money problems you had had last year, without the fear that one day you would just lose it all. In truth, the fear still existed, but it was more distant. You were a rising star, and for now you didn’t think you had reached the top yet. No, you were still shooting up, and you were willing to work your ass off to make sure you wouldn’t fall back down.

You deserved the success you were having. Had worked blood and sweat to get that success.

You hadn’t talked to Yoongi after. People had suggested collaborations, Armys had posted edits of you (of you?!) next to Min Yoongi all over the Internet. Videos of you busking had gotten millions of views, and Minhyuk was doing his best job to make sure to shut down any hate before it reached you.

You still saw some comments sometimes, but you didn’t really care. You couldn’t be liked by everyone, and that was just life. You had long accepted such a thing.

But yes, doing interviews felt strange. Especially as people tried to desiccate your past, to find every little truth there was to know about you. You were good at keeping most of the truth to yourself, just giving them little snippets of your life here and there to make the fans feel like they knew you.

You were pretty sure none of them knew your loneliness though. Loneliness that was a lot more bearable now that you weren’t struggling with money anymore, come to think of it.

The questions you hated the most were those about Yoongi. And you got a lot of them, especially from male interviewers. They tended to ask questions that were a lot more sexist than their female counterparts, who usually focused on your work instead of on your life. But the male interviewers came with the rest, and even if you had asked Minhyuk to try and filter most of them out, you still had to answer some questions once in a while.

That was how you found yourself on a talk show you had only watched behind the screen of your computer before, sitting across a famous host that had been asking increasingly more personal questions as the hour that you were to spend with him slowly passed.

It was awkward, yet you tried to be your most friendly self, to smile when you were supposed to and to laugh politely whenever he made a joke you personally thought to be degrading. You were relieved when he finally concluded the interview, and you dipped behind the scene as soon as you were allowed, heading straight to the refreshment table.

You were gulping down a water bottle when a familiar figure moved out of the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. Minhyuk sported a toothy grin, and he stopped next to you as you finished the water.

“You were fantastic,” he complimented you. “How can you be so good at this?”

He had asked that same question numerous times already, and you still didn’t have the answer for it. You had always been a huge introvert, yet whenever cameras shone their light on you, you found courage in you to act and pretend to be at your most comfortable.

Only the people that knew you the best could see through the mask, and though Minhyuk knew, he still was amazed that you could just do it like that.

You shrugged, winking at him as you put the water bottle away in a recycling bin. “I don’t know.” You sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the host of the show. He was walking towards you, and you immediately hated the look on his face as he beelined towards you.

He stopped a little too close for comfort, with a placid smile on his lips that felt wrong.

“You’re good at avoiding juicy questions, aren’t you?” It was said like a joke and his eyes even sparkled as he let out a small laugh.

Immediately, you let the camera-adequate you take the lead, and you echoed his laugh. “I want my personal life to stay personal,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

The host nodded, glancing at Minhyuk as your manager moved next to you. “But seriously, how did Min Yoongi come to know you? I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

You pursed your lips, the perfect picture of indifference, even though Yoongi’s mention still felt a little strange. “Honestly, I don’t know. I am very flattered that he likes my music enough to say he’s inspired by it.”

The host looked at you suspiciously, as if he was trying to read between the lines, between the words you had said to find the truth about you and Min Yoongi.

You didn’t think anyone but you and Yoongi really knew the truth. Even Minhyuk didn’t know everything, and he was your manager.

“When’s the collab going to drop?” the host continued. “Surely you must be working on something.”

You shrugged. “I can’t say we are planning to release something together, unfortunately. We’ve never worked on anything together.” An easily crafted lie, that you had said so many times in the last three months that you almost believed it now.

You had yet to listen to the song you had made together. Had buried the file away in your computer, somewhere you had tried to forget as best as you could. It hadn’t really worked, especially not now that Yoongi was mentioned to you almost daily.

“That’s a shame, I’m pretty sure lots of people would love to see such a collab,” the host said pensively. He then offered you a smile he probably thought was kind, but mostly looked paternalistic. “You should try to get him to collab with you, it’d give you a lot of visibility.”

You wanted to tell him you didn’t need visibility, but it was a lie. Well, maybe not anymore, because Yoongi had already given it to you.

You wondered what had brought him to mention you. What journey his mind might have taken to lead to you, when he knew damn well what had happened with you was unprofessional. Maybe it was his way of apologizing, of giving you the little something that he could even though you hadn’t contacted him about the song. Maybe he even believed it would make you change your mind about the song, but that was unlikely.

Not when it could make people say that you were only using Yoongi for clout. No, you wanted your success to be all yours now that he had opened the door for you. It wasn’t like you had asked him to, so it wasn’t using him, right?

Minhyuk’s phone started ringing, taking you out of your reverie, and he stepped away to answer the call. He got lots of calls now, and every day it seemed like there was more. More that people wanted to know, wanted to see or wanted to hear.

It was unlikely that it’d stop someday. But it was okay. Being in constant motion kept you from feeling your usual loneliness. Made it lesser, smaller, until it was so easily ignored you almost thought it was absent.

The host dug his phone out of his pocket, and you watched as his eyes skimmed the screen, before looking at you with a delighted smile. You furrowed your brows, but you didn’t have time to say anything before Minhyuk let out a cheer as he jogged back to you.

“You are never going to believe this!”

You looked at him with a slightly widened gaze, glancing at the host once. “What?”

“You’ve been nominated as rookie of the year for MAMA.”

Your mouth fell open, quite at the same time as your heart stopped beating in your chest. “What?”

Minhyuk nodded quickly, and he pulled you into a crushing hug. “Look at you! I knew you were going to make it.”

You laughed, pushing on his chest so he’d release you from his hold. “Are you sure?”

You couldn’t really believe it. It didn’t make sense to you, and all you could do was meet Minhyuk’s gaze as his eyes filled with proud tears.

“He’s right,” the host said. He raised his phone, showing the screen to you. Sure enough, you read the article that had just come out, and your name was the first thing that caught your attention. Then everything blurred behind a wall of unexpected tears, and you let out a disbelieved laugh.

“How?”

Minhyuk shrugged his shoulders, smiling fondly. “Because you’re the best at what you do?”

Both of you knew you had Min Yoongi to thank for that. Hell, without him mentioning you three months ago you would probably have given up on making music all together. But no, he mentioned you, and you skyrocketed, your music even making it to the radio.

It was unbelievable, and it seemed new heights could be reached. Because MAMA was a lot of visibility, and publicity too. A room, full of other artists, and you were one of the nominees? It truly was a dream, wasn’t it?

You could only thank your lucky star for it, though you’d never go to the extent of thanking Min Yoongi, would you?

*****

You had been hesitating for a few hours now. Watching your phone, reading Yoongi’s contact on the screen, and then shutting off the device to focus on the lyrics you were currently writing. It was hard to focus – your mind just kept going back to Min Yoongi.

You didn’t know if you wanted to thank him. To tell him this was all thanks to him. It felt too real, like acknowledging it would take your success away. And you couldn’t lose it – it was one of the last things you had.

Your mother had tried to call you, the day after you learned that you were nominated as rookie of the year. You had sent her straight to voicemail, like you’d been doing for a while anyway. You deleted the voicemail without listening to it, uncaring of what she would have to say to you.

Nothing would ever make you want to have her in your life again, in any way whatsoever. She was dead to you, and you wanted it to stay that way.

You sighed, and your eyes fell to the paper you were writing on. Your handwriting looked more like scribbles, and you had doodled some flowers at the top of the page, as if they’d help you find some inspiration. Needless to say, they hadn’t, as your thoughts always trailed back to Yoongi.

You looked at the two lines you had already written. The only two lines your brain had been able to come up with in the last three hours since you’d sat down.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to a city

You didn’t like it. Something about the two lines didn’t work together, and you decided to strike through the last word. Because what city was it supposed to represent? Seoul? You’d been in Seoul for so long it didn’t seem quite right anymore. Unless the city represented something else entirely. Perhaps a dream?

You sighed once more, replacing the word city with dream.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to a dream

You already liked it more. You replaced the ‘a’ in front of ‘dream’ to ‘my’ before humming it out loud. You knew you’d still have to tweak it a little, but already the next lines started forming in your head.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to my dream

Bright light and Heaven’s door

I knock and scream at them to open

In a world where no one knows my name

I can almost hear Heaven’s choirs

You’d think they’d ring true and high

But I think they’re the devil in disguise

They push me out and in the mud

I beg on my knees, they don’t hear me

In the land where no one knows my name

I’m the scraps that you’ve thrown away

They say one day I’ll understand

But I’ll be the one to make the rules now ay

It always hit you like that. Once the inspiration found you, you couldn’t really stop. You had to put the words on paper, ink staining your hand as you barely let it dry. You wrote quickly, eyes not blinking, brain entirely zeroing in on the spot where the tip of your pen kissed the paper, tracing the curves of the words you were ingraining.

It was an exciting feeling. Because yes, you felt like your success was all you had left, but it was a lie. Because even without your success, you’d still have this. Your pen against the paper, the flow of words spilling out of you like an overflowing glass, nothing but you and the lyrics.

It was your home when you were younger, and you knew it would always be your home. Music, that is, and the lyrics that found their way out of the confines of your skull.

You reread the verse, smiling to yourself. You knew it would likely change a little by the time you’d consider the song ready, but for a first draft you really did like the sound of it.

Especially considering it had helped you escape the will to contact Min Yoongi.

Your eyes slid to the window of your apartment. The sun was setting outside, coloring the world in shades of gold that made it feel like you could conquer it, if you so wanted. You felt infinite then, as if the start and the end happened all at once, and never at the same time. Like there was just this moment, right now, and nothing else, but also everything else. Every little moment, stretching into infinity.

It was a recurring feeling to you, whenever you found your inspiration, like it was some old friend coming home.

Once the sun was fully set, dusk settling on the world outside, you focused back on your apartment. You had to cook dinner soon, but somehow the idea of it exhausted you. Perhaps because you had used a lot of brain power on the song, and now you just wanted to rest. You figured ordering some food tonight would be okay, and you ordered fried chicken as you moved to your couch. You turned on the TV, moving to a channel that played some drama you’ve been invested in, and you watched the show for a while, up until the fried chicken was delivered.

You were on your way back up to your apartment when your phone lit up in your hand, and you almost threw it across the hall when you saw the name on the screen.

It made no sense. Like you had summoned him from the depths of your skull. Like you had passed the itch to call to him, and unlike you he hadn’t been able to resist the urge.

You picked up the call, hands shaking lightly, as you neared your apartment door.

“Hello?”

There was a short silence, and then the unmistakable deep voice of Min Yoongi filled your ears. “Hey, Y/n.”

Your throat felt dry, a lump keeping you from swallowing properly. It indeed made you gulp, and you could only hope that he hadn’t heard.

“How have you been doing?” he asked.

You stopped in front of your door, putting the fried chicken down long enough so you could dial your password and push the door open. “I’ve been great,” you replied truthfully, because there was no use to lie to him.

You still were lonely, but it was easier now.

“I’m glad,” he pensively said. It took him a while to speak again, but once he did he said, “I wanted to congratulate you for being nominated as rookie of the year.”

You blushed, immediately embarrassed, even though you were walking in your apartment and no one could see you. You put the fried chicken down on the counter, and then headed to a cupboard to grab a plate.

“Thank you,” you told him. “I think it’s… because of you.”

He chuckled, deeply, and the sound brought you right back to that night you had spent in his bed. Your blush turned furious, and you gulped once.

“You’re getting the success you deserve, as an artist. It’s all you.”

“Right. No one would know about me if you hadn’t mentioned me that one time.”

You heard him sigh, and regretted how your words had come out aggressive. “I just told the truth.” He paused, and you could almost hear his brain work as he figured his next words carefully. “Your music does inspire me.”

“Seonbaenim…” you trailed off.

“Ah, no need to call me that anymore,” he gently said. “We’re equals now.”

You doubted you’d ever be his equal, but you still let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

Another awkward silence followed, as you put your plate down on the coffee table in your living room. You had gotten a nicer apartment once the money had started to come in, which meant you finally had more than just one room – an improvement that you still were struggling to wrap your head around.

You went back to the kitchen to grab the fried chicken, and then you settled on the floor, next to the coffee table.

“I was wondering…” Yoongi finally said, and you almost startled at the sound of his voice, as if you had forgotten he was on the other side of the line. “Would you like to… grab dinner one of these days? To celebrate your nomination.”

“Dinner? Us two?

He chuckled once more. “Now that I’m thinking of it, it might be coming out of nowhere to you.” He laughed, and you wondered if he was blushing just as furiously as you were.

Because you weren’t expecting him to want to see you again. It made you think of his girlfriend, and you couldn’t help but wonder if they were still together, or if they were broken up now. You didn’t think he’d suggest dinner if they were still dating, but it was hard to tell.

Maybe that was his way of making things professional with you again, because he wanted to release the song.

“Is it…” you trailed off, struggling to find the words. “Is it to discuss the song?”

You were pretty sure you could hear him gulp. “Ah, nah, the song doesn’t matter. I’m not going to force you to release it, not when you’ve made it clear you’re not interested. I just thought… you deserve to celebrate?” He paused, just long enough to collect his thoughts before he continued. “Unless you’re already celebrating? You have a manager, right?”

You didn’t think you had ever heard Yoongi string so many words one after the other before, except when he was rapping or singing. It made you laugh anxiously once more, though you reckoned the anxiety was slowly dwindling to nothingness.

“I do,” you answered. “But I’m not celebrating with him. We’ve never really hung out outside of work stuff before.”

“That could be considered as an important work event, no?” Yoongi pointed out. “Your first nomination… it always means a lot.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, eyes reading the words on the unopened box of fried chicken again and again. “It does,” you admitted, voicing it for the first time. “I…” Your eyes filled with tears, and you took a deep, steadying breath. “I still can’t believe it.”

His voice was kind when he spoke again. “It’s hard to believe it at first,” he said, gently. “That’s why you deserve to celebrate.”

“But why… Why with you? We’re not even friends. Barely work acquaintances at best, especially after…”

You didn’t finish your sentence, and it seemed it had stunned Yoongi into silence, because he didn’t say anything. Didn’t reply, and for a moment you imagined that he had hung up. But he hadn’t, so you waited patiently.

“I have to admit,” Yoongi said, his voice infinitely small. “I’ve been thinking about you. I’m sorry for how things went between us. I guess I’m trying to make amends? And I really want to make sure you celebrate this nomination the right way.”

“Isn’t that weird though, considering what happened?”

He pondered for a time. “Maybe. It’s only weird if we let it be weird.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you still didn’t know why he wanted to be the one celebrating with you. You barely knew each other, outside of the song you had worked on and that night you had slept together. He didn’t know about what you did for fun, about what you liked and disliked. Could only imagine what your relationship with your family was, if he listened to the song closely. Yes, he could relate to your love for music, as he had the same one, but he still didn’t know you.

Had that night with you mattered to him, too? Had he felt comfort when he was by your side, in the soft sheets of his bed?

“Right,” you let out. “I just… I don’t know. What about your…”

“Oh.” He paused, sighing. “We broke up months ago.”

Your eyes widened, the revelation giving you hope that you hated. You weren’t sure you were supposed to be hopeful right now. But he still had called you, right? Still wanted to celebrate with you, no?

“Oh,” you echoed. “I’m sorry.”

“It was my decision,” he admitted. “You made me realize some stuff… but I’d rather talk about it in person?”

So that was the reason why he wanted to see you after all. And somehow, it made your initial reticence disappear, until you found yourself saying, “Sure. I think that could be a good idea.”

You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. “Great! Would you want to come over? I could cook you a nice meal.”

You smiled, softly. “You want to cook me a meal? We could just go to a restaurant and…”

But you couldn’t, right? People could recognize you, paparazzi could take pictures of you, rumours could blossom left and right.

“You know what?” you added before he could say something. “Yes, I’d like to come over. I’ll find a nice bottle to drink?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “Are you available sometime this week?”

As you scheduled your dinner with Min Yoongi, you wondered if he could hear the wild beats he had ignited in your chest. You wondered if he could hear the hope in your voice, hope that you tried to push away. Because the last time you had been hopeful, you had ended up hurt, badly. Way more than you had been before he had come into your life. You didn’t want to give him this power over you once more, and so you promised yourself one thing, and one thing only.

You would only be friends with him this time around. Nothing more. Because your self-preservation came first.

*****

Yoongi didn’t move, in the few months you didn’t talk to him. He still lived at that same fancy building you had used to hate, yet now you lived in a similar one. Not quite as expensive, and your apartment didn’t lay on two stories like his condo did, but making your way to his place wasn’t quite as anxiety-inducing as it had been then.

You had told Minhyuk that you were going to visit Min Yoongi. It felt like you needed him to know, now that you were famous enough to get recognized. Not enough for the receptionist to let you pass though. Indeed, the lady stopped you as you were walking in, clutching an expensive bottle of wine in your clammy hands.

“Excuse me,” she said, and your eyes widened as you turned to look at her.

You stopped in your tracks, and your heart picked up its pace in your chest. “Yes?”

“You don’t live here.”

The sudden will to reply ‘Obviously’ almost made you blurt it out, but you swallowed the word like a lump in your throat, glancing towards the elevator.

“I’m visiting a friend,” you told her, though you hesitated on the last word.

Because Min Yoongi wasn’t really a friend. Yet at least. And you reckoned you had no idea if he’d be one someday, especially after what had happened a few months back. You had been hopeful since your call on the phone, but ever since this morning you rather felt anxious, like you were about to be swallowed up by the ground never to be seen again.

Still, you stood strong, head up high as the lady eyed you up and down.

“And who is that?” she asked, an eyebrow cocked as she clearly didn’t believe you.

It might have been your fault. You had decided not to wear too expensive clothes, because you still weren’t used to even having some. Indeed, you had been receiving designer clothes by a couple of different brands, but you had yet to sign with one, feeling a little too overwhelmed from it. You had never been big on fashion after all, and if it wasn’t for Minhyuk’s suggestions, you were pretty sure you would have had more than one faux pas so far.

“Uh,” you let out, and your eyes dropped to the wine bottle. “Min Yoongi,” you revealed, and somehow you wondered if you just looked like a crazy fan.

Did it happen, sometimes? Did fans try to visit him, pretending they knew him?

The lady’s gaze narrowed as you looked up at her, trying to appear as convincing as you could. “He didn’t mention he had a friend coming over.”

Maybe you had grown lucky after all these years of bad luck. Maybe your stars had finally aligned, maybe the ocean’s waves were finally beating the shore in your favour. Because Min Yoongi stepped in from the outside world, hair ruffled by the wind, with a slight flush to his cheeks as if he’d been rushing home.

At the sight of the wine bottle in his hands, you assumed he was.

“Seonbaenim,” you instinctively said as a way of greeting, as your heart decided it was time to run wild.

He looked better than you remembered him to be. Healthier, as if the months had been good to him. And maybe they had been, the same way that they had been for you.

“I told you not to call me that,” he reminded you, after a few silent seconds of him just staring at you. “You can call me Yoongi.”

It was way too casual for you, so you just nodded your head as your cheeks burned.

Yoongi made his way towards you, nodding at the receptionist. You had half a thought of saying ‘told you so’, but you refrained, choosing peace over war. In truth, you weren’t quite sure you could speak right now, as your heart just kept rushing on and on as if it was running the last few miles of a marathon.

Silence was all that accompanied you and Min Yoongi on the elevator ride up to his condo, though once the doors slid open, he glanced at you. You wondered if it was blush dusting his cheeks or if the wind had been colder outside than what you had thought.

“How are you?” he asked, and as soon as your gaze met his, he looked away.

You gulped down the anxiety, before saying, “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Great.”

You followed him out of the elevator, all the way to his door before you managed to speak again. “You got some wine? I thought I was the one that was supposed to bring it.”

He chuckled, shyly. “Just trying to be a good host.” He dialed his code in, before pushing the door open. “After all, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating you tonight?”

You pursed your lips, walking in behind him. “Well,” you choked out, before gulping down another lump. “I wouldn’t have gotten nominated if it weren’t for you, as I said before.”

“Oh please,” he let out as he kicked his shoes off, and you quickly did the same. “How many times will I have to tell you that it was all you?”

You shrugged, and your eyes slid to the stairs, picturing him there all those months ago. It made your gaze drop to the ground, and the heaviness of his gaze on your profile told you that he had noticed.

“Was it?” you said, chuckling awkwardly as you tried to keep the atmosphere light. “It rather feels like it was all thanks to your interview.”

He shrugged it off, sliding his feet in a pair of slippers. “You can grab those slippers.”

Your eyes moved to a lonely pair closer to the door, and you nodded.

“I really was thinking of cooking something?” Yoongi said as you were putting on the slippers, and you wondered if he was purposefully ignoring what you had said. “I’m not big on take-out, but I do like to cook.”

You truly met his gaze for what felt like the first time tonight, even though it really wasn’t, and it felt like the whole world had slowed. Like the lights had dimmed, and the walls and art decorating them had gone out of focus. The only thing you could see was his soft gaze, and the way he had a small, shy smile on his lips. You were pretty sure you could count the lashes on his eyes, and it made you feel like you were falling forward, while simultaneously staying in place. Like motion sickness, and you blinked a few times as your gaze dropped to the floor once more, too much of a coward to hold his.

“Sure, I’d love to cook,” you replied, worrying at your bottom lip. “I can help.”

At that, a true, bright smile moved on his features, and it made the room feel warmer, cozier. “Then let’s go cook, Y/n.”

The way he said your name had your insides go molten, and it took you a good few seconds before you actually managed to follow him as he walked towards the kitchen. And that was how you found yourself cooking with him, talking about everything and nothing with just a little bit of awkwardness clinging to the air. You didn’t think it was a bad thing – it was only normal after the months and what had happened. After all, even then you hadn’t been particularly close to him. Yes, that night, he had been comfort personified, but you rather thought that It was only because you had no comfort in your life then. Nothing to cling to to make you want to get up day after day.

One full glass of wine later, as food was sizzling in a pan on the oven, Yoongi leaned against the counter, looking at you. You felt shy under his gaze, and you busied yourself by refilling the glasses. It didn’t help, as it forced you to step closer to him, but at least it occupied the silence for a time.

“How have you been adjusting to this?” he asked, motioning around him.

You were aware he wasn’t talking about his kitchen, but rather about your new life. It made you ponder for a time, because you thought you were adjusting well, though you weren’t quite sure if it was just an act. It was still too early to tell, and you didn’t have it in you to lie to Min Yoongi.

“Honestly,” you let out, slowly, as your eyes got lost in the rich colour of the wine. “It’s been easy, so far. But I don’t even know if it’ll last? And each time I do an interview, or talk in front of people, it just feels like someone else takes over. I’m not even sure it’s me.”

He remained silent for a while, making you feel as if you blurting out your truth was a little too real for the relationship you currently had with him – which was none, you reckoned. You saw him take a sip of wine from the corner of your eyes, and it took him a moment before he swallowed. Once he did, he finally spoke up, making relief flood through you.

“I understand,” he said. “More than you can imagine. I’ve felt this way since I debuted with Bangtan all those years ago. Struggled with it a lot if I’m honest.”

You worried at your lip, slowly nodding your head. “And how have you adjusted?”

He smiled, softly. “All thanks to the members. They supported me when things got rough. Made sure I was never alone, and helped me to be comfortable with my public persona.”

You could taste the slight tang of jealousy on your tongue, yet you pushed it away, ignored it as best as you could. “I can imagine. It must have been… great, to have all of them around as you climbed the ladder to success.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, tilting his head to the side. “That’s… why I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone in this?”

He looked startled, for a few seconds, eyes a little wide as his mouth fell open. He had a line of red wine drying on his lips, and your gaze focused on it as your brain took the words in, spinning them around until they made no sense whatsoever.

“I…” you trailed off. “Why?”

He sighed, probably realizing that he had been too upfront. “No one should be alone in this,” he carefully said, and he turned away from you to check the food on the stove.

It smelled delicious, but he must have deemed it wasn’t ready, because he put the lid back on the pan and faced you again.

“And I know… I know we shouldn’t be talking about the song,” he continued. “But I also heard your lyrics.”

Lyrics of loneliness and despair you had spat in his mic that day you had come to record. On your birthday, the epitome of loneliness every year.

“You did,” you said, shying from his gaze once more. You took a sip of the wine, let it roll on your tongue, and then you spoke again. “It hasn’t been as bad as before,” you admitted, carefully. “It doesn’t feel as lonely as before. I think it’s because I’m not struggling with everything else anymore. Like… financially, and all that. I used to not even know when my next meal was going to be, and now I can always order or cook if I have time for groceries.”

The kind smile on Yoongi’s lips felt like the warm rays of a spring sun, and you couldn’t help the shy smile that grew on your own lips. “It does help,” he said. He glanced at the food, before settling his gaze back on you. “I bet you’ve been feeling like you are running out of time, though.”

“Gosh,” you let out, and you laughed awkwardly. “Yeah. It feels like I always have schedules to do, and whenever I don’t I feel bad if I’m not working on new lyrics.”

“I totally get that.”

There was a silence, only interrupted by an alarm Yoongi had set for the rice cooker. He turned it off, and then his gaze slid to his kitchen table that still stood empty where it was a couple of meters away.

“Let me set the table,” he told you, not meeting your gaze, and then you spent the next few minutes watching him do so, feeling a little awkward in your spot in the kitchen. It was lessened when Yoongi put some music on, some chill beats that wouldn’t make the conversation hard.

“Thank you,” you told him when he moved back to the kitchen to check the food. “I could have helped.”

“No,” he said, reassuringly. “I told you, we’re celebrating you tonight. You already helped with cutting the vegetables.”

If someone could call your poor attempt at cutting the onions as help, then you would take the compliment. “Right,” you let out, laughing lightly.

And for the first time tonight it didn’t feel awkward or forced. It felt comfortable, as if watching Yoongi set the table, in the mundanity of the action, had brought back the comfort he radiated back then.

“Trust me,” he said, offering you a toothy grin.

It was surprising, and it did things to you that made your cheeks burn and your tongue ache for the taste of wine. So you took a long gulp, before moving to grab the bottle and place it on the table.

“Here, I’ve contributed,” you told him, and your nose was a little scrunched up, awkwardly so, when you looked at him again.

He laughed, a sound you reckoned you could get used to hearing, and then he started putting the food in bowls. “I don’t know what I would have done without your input.” He sounded sarcastic, teasing, and maybe, just maybe you really could be friends. “Thank you.”

“No problem, seonbaenim.” This time, you said the formal nickname teasingly, and he rolled his eyes, slightly shaking his head.

“You have to stop. You’re making me feel old.”

“Would you rather me calling you ahjussi?”

The way his smile fell to be replaced by a startled expression had you burst out a laugh that was nothing but feminine, one he joined after a few seconds.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asked, and you grinned at him as he carried the bowls to the table. “I see.”

The atmosphere shifted, after that. Conversation grew easier, not forced, and the exquisite taste of the food made you feel like maybe you could cook after all. You finished the first wine bottle as you ate, which you reckoned might have been a bad idea, because you were tipsy by the time Yoongi uncorked the second one, his cheeks having turned red from the few glasses he had already ingested.

“Are you sure we should be drinking that too?” you asked, and you giggled as he threw you a no-bullshit look.

“Celebrating, remember?” he replied. “We have to be getting drunk.”

“Just us two?”

His gaze widened slightly, and he put down the wine bottle. “Unless you don’t want to.”

You raised your glass, looking at the light over his kitchen island through it. “I do want to. Just feels like we should… not be stupid this time around, no?”

His features were somber when your gaze slid to him. “Right,” he said, slowly nodding. “I didn’t invite you over with any intentions, if that can reassure you.”

You were too tipsy for where the conversation was going, so you said, “I want to be your friend, Min Yoongi. Let’s not be professional this time. Let’s just be friends.”

His eyes lit up, slowly followed by a smile that took over his mouth in the most beautiful way. He looked heavenly, standing there, long hair behind his ears, pale, expensive Louis Vuitton sweater rolled on his forearms. He looked princely, like he had looked that night, and it made your gaze slide away.

For preservation, perhaps.

“I’d love to call you a friend,” he said, gently. “I’d really love to.”

You pursed your lips, steeling yourself for the glance you sent to him. “Then pour me some wine, Min Yoongi.”

He laughed, and soon enough he was back at the table next to you, talking about what growing up was for him. You could see the similarities in your past, and maybe that was why you had always been comfortable with him before. Because he really did understand where you were coming from, though he had been able to fix things with his family.

Which wasn’t something you ever wanted to do. You were content with not talking to them, and you were pretty sure that wouldn’t change. Especially not as the only reason why they were contacting you now was because they probably had heard about you on the television.

“I swear!” Yoongi said, slightly shaking his head, a long time after the conversation had shifted to anecdotes about his past and yours. “I’ve never seen anyone get so worked up about some bananas.”

You laughed, quickly followed by him. The retelling of a fight between Jungkook and Hoseok had you shedding a tear, and Yoongi watched you carefully as you dried it with the back of your hand.

“That is so stupid,” you commented.

He nodded wisely. “I know. But it’s been a long time. Jungkook-ie was mostly upset because it was a gift.”

You chuckled. “Bananas?”

“Yes.” Yoongi laughed, and then his eyes slid to your empty glass in front of you.

You were halfway through the second bottle, and the alcohol had been buzzing through your system. The scene had lost its focus around you, the wine fuzzing it up until all that was left were Yoongi’s pretty features. His cheeks had turned red a while ago, and you reckoned yours probably had too, sometime between your third and fourth glass. You didn’t really care – this Yoongi was comfortable, friendly. Something you had been needing more than you would have ever cared to admit – a friend.

You liked how easy it was, that friendship. And it really was, even in the days and weeks that followed you reconnecting with Yoongi. Like maybe that was what you had always been meant to be – friends, and nothing more.

He never talked to you about the song again. Never pressed you to listen to it, to release it, but if you were in his head you’d know that he was dying to drop it out of the blue, to have his fans know just what you felt, what he felt. Because the loneliness that had inhabited you when you had written your share of the lyrics was common to him, though it was growing less frequent now that you were in his life.

Min Yoongi really was comfort indeed.

*****

After weeks of talking once in a while, of hanging out even more rarely, with Yoongi’s and your busy schedule, MAMA arrived. You were anxious about it – it was your first award show after all. Yoongi was there in spirit to reassure you before, sending you an expensive whiskey bottle as a gift. He was getting ready with the members of BTS that were attending, which meant you weren’t going to see him before the ceremony. So all you did that day was prepare with a glam team hired by Minhyuk, and then you were driven to the venue where MAMA was held.

It was surreal, to sit in that venue. With the other artists, the whole scene of music that was Asia. You were sat next to Twice, a group you had never expected you’d see in real life. Sana and Jihyo congratulated you on your nomination, and you immediately went into camera mode, easy smile and bright eyes on display.

If you were honest, the camera mode was barely faked today. No, you rather were amazed by the scene, by the crowd and the buzzing of chatter and laughter. You awed at the sight of so many famous people, of Twice and Stray Kids and some groups you didn’t even know. You hadn’t realized you were part of it before today, and now you could see IU sitting on the other side of the venue, along with some people you didn’t recognize.

Imposter syndrome chose this moment to hit you. Out of nowhere, the way the first bolt of lightning strikes, even before the sound of thunder is heard. With clammy hands, you watched as the lights dimmed, and the crowd ushered until a spotlight shone on the animator of the evening. You barely could listen, barely could watch the groups performing. All you could think was that you were alone in this room, without anyone by your side.

Not even Minhyuk. And it wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to – for some reason, he hadn’t received an invitation along with you. Something you didn’t quite understand, but didn’t really have anything to say about it. Because, after all, you were just a rising star, and rising stars tended to fall into darkness more often than not.

Why would you be any different?

You were starting to panic. You knew it, and yet you couldn’t help it. Sana must have noticed, because during a commercial break, she leaned closer to you.

“Hey,” she greeted you once more. “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

The whole of Twice turned towards you, and your eyes widened. “Uh,” you let out. “I don’t…”

But Jeongyeon was already extending a water bottle towards you, and you thanked her as you took it. Your hands shook a little as you uncapped it, but the first swig had the anxiety calm down, just enough for you to thank the girls again.

“It’s okay!” Sana reassured you. “We know how overwhelming this can be. Can’t imagine what it must be like for someone alone.”

You winced, glancing around. Your gaze stopped as it met Yoongi’s. He was not too far from IU, with the rest of the BTS members in attendance. You hadn’t noticed him before, perhaps because they had arrived late.

You had been so early you had been able to see everyone walking in.

Yoongi nodded his head at you, offering you a secretive smile. It grounded you in the present, and you finally felt the wave of panic recede, the way the ocean recedes at low tide. It calmed you down, and you found yourself able to actually enjoy the show from then on.

When it was time for the award for rookie of the year to be announced, anxiety returned to you. It wasn’t the same kind of anxiety – no, it was the kind that one anticipates, uses to push themselves forward. You leaned on the edge of your seat, almost imperceptibly, listening as they called out the names. Smiling shyly as they said your name, and the big screen shone with an image of you. You watched yourself, prettily sitting there, with your hair perfectly styled and makeup on fleek, feeling like you were watching someone else entirely. It was an out-of-body experience, somehow, especially as the camera you took over.

The crowd was silenced expectantly as the announcer opened the envelope, slowly. You thought you could hear the envelope tear. It was like it was echoing, on repeat like a song stuck in your head. All you could do was watch as they got the paper out, and when they said your name, loud and clear, your eyes widened as your lips parted slightly.

For an unknown reason, your head turned towards Sana first, and she offered you a bright smile as the room erupted into claps. You slowly got up, feeling thousands of eyes following your every move, and your own gaze slid to the other side of the room once more.

Yoongi was clapping, with the softest smile on his lips. It was a smile you rarely saw from him – it was fond, like you were the sun after a long night. He mouthed a congratulation, only meant for you – something personal, that you tucked in a safe corner of your heart. It made you stand straighter, and it guided you towards the scene as you walked to accept your award.

You bowed as you were handed the trophy, its weight surprisingly heavy as it landed in your hands, and you smiled widely as the announcer congratulated you. You thanked them, and then moved to the mic, letting the camera persona take over.

And take over she did, giving thanks to the people that helped you. You couldn’t resist but gaze towards Yoongi as you kept talking, and you had to bite your tongue not to thank him too. Because to you, it was thanks to him that you were standing there, in this spot. The winner of rookie of the year – a year ago, you were all but an unknown busker, barely getting by. And this year, you were shining in the light, rising towards the heavens.

An out-of-body experience indeed.

When it was done, you could barely remember anything. From the whole evening, if you were honest, as if it was too good to be true. You had been invited to an after-party, and on your way to it, after you had changed into a less formal attire, you found yourself coming back to your body.

You blinked once, twice, letting out a small, disbelieved laugh. The driver glanced at you, cocking an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror.

“Sorry,” you apologized, and then you let out another laugh. It sounded a little crazy, perhaps, but you didn’t care.

Your body was the vessel of a happiness it had never known before, and you were going to enjoy it. To drink it till the very last drop, because who knew when you’d feel like this again?

You got to the party, almost at the same time as another similar SUV. You smiled as you saw Sana and Jihyo come out, and they motioned for you to join them.

Another friendship you had never seen coming. But it blossomed easily, and they chatted and laughed and drank with you for a while. Long enough for you to forget that there was actually a reason why you had accepted the invitation to this after-party in the first place.

Min Yoongi was in attendance. And you thought you could feel the moment he walked into the place. As if the frantic energy lessened, somehow, and your eyes immediately searched for him. You saw Hoseok first, and he grinned as his gaze met yours, waving at you.

You waved back, which didn’t go unnoticed to Sana and Jihyo.

“You know Hobi-nim?” Jihyo asked, pretty mouth forming a pout. “So the rumors are true after all.”

You winced. “The rumors are out of mind but yes, I do know Hobi-nim.” You did, from Yoongi. You had only met him twice before though.

You didn’t mind Jihyo’s comment. Mostly because it was said so genuinely, so nicely, with no ounce of jealousy or any other negative emotion behind. You didn’t think she had it in her anyway. Neither did Sana, who just said, “Rumors are always out of mind. Don’t pay attention to them.”

Easier said than done, but you still nodded your head, before glancing towards Hoseok again. This time, you noticed Jungkook and Yoongi too, and the latter offered you that same secretive and fond smile he had offered you earlier. It made something in you constrict, and blush crept on your cheeks.

“You can go with them, if you want,” Jihyo told you, noticing the emotions on your face. “This is a safe place for us celebrities to mingle.”

Sana chuckled. “We like parties like this. Makes us feel a little more normal.”

“Do they happen often?” you enquired, and you broke eye contact with Yoongi to meet the girl’s gaze.

“Not really,” she admitted. “Unfortunately.” It was her turn to look towards Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook, and then she added, “Do go with them. Yoongi-nim is looking this way.”

This time, you turned fully beet red, but luckily enough the expensive foundation on your skin held, hiding your emotions. To Sana’s eyes, perhaps, but you were pretty sure Jihyo knew.

And knew what? You didn’t even know. Yoongi was a friend, nothing more, and you liked it that way. You liked that you could count him as a friend, because God knew you needed friends in your life.

“Well then, better go talk to him before he makes rumors spread,” you joked, and the two girls laughed.

Before you went, you exchanged numbers with them, promising that you could meet up in the following days, and then you were off to meet Min Yoongi, where he stood close to a wall on the other side of the room.

He didn’t like parties. That much you knew. He had only decided to go because he wanted to be there for you, whether the outcome of the evening was positive or not. And it was positive, the brightest thing that had ever happened to you. An evening built of the stuff that makes the sun shine – bright, ever-lasting. You clung to that feeling as you reached Yoongi’s side, and Hoseok and Jungkook dipped as soon as you appeared, leaving you alone with Yoongi.

“Congratulations,” he said, this time aloud.

It still felt personal, and you tilted your head to the side, offering him a smile. “I should congratulate you. It’s because of you.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You know it was all you. You have to stop saying it was me.”

“Right.” You narrowed your eyes, imperceptibly. “Of course I won rookie of the year because I was busking in Hongdae.”

“Come on,” he let out. “We’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“And we’ll go over it a thousand times more until you accept that it’s because of you.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “Right. Then why don’t we get a drink to celebrate me? Since it’s all because of me.”

You laughed, eyes sliding to the bar. “Whiskey?”

“Champagne?”

“You like champagne?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. But if we are celebrating something that didn’t happen, then we should drink something we don’t like.”

You cocked your head to the side once more. “What makes you think I don’t like champagne?”

“Do you?”

Your silence was answer enough for Yoongi. You both laughed, and then he motioned towards the bar. “After you.”

You nodded, slowly, and then moved towards the alcohol, and towards your salvation, maybe. Because though Yoongi had always felt like comfort, right now he felt different. New, a little like you had felt that night months ago.

The night you were trying not to think about, whenever you hung out with him. You had never talked about his ex either, as if the subject was taboo. And perhaps it was if you wanted to maintain a friendship with Min Yoongi.

“We’ll take two whiskeys,” Yoongi said as you reached the bar, and you threw him an offended look.

“Whiskey? I thought we were going for champagne.”

“I’ll be damned if you catch me drinking champagne,” he muttered.

It was said so adorably you widened your gaze, letting out a small laugh. “Maybe you’re already damned,” you said, and you raised your hand so the barmaid noticed you. “Can you change that for champagne, please?”

She nodded, and you turned back towards a bewildered Yoongi. “You…”

He fell silent, and you cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

He only snorted, shaking his head slightly as his eyes fell to the floor. “Nothing.”

You moved a little closer, trying to meet his gaze. “Right.”

He rolled his eyes, gently pushing you away. It was familiar, more familiar than your usual friendship, but it felt fitting for the night and its brightness.

Your champagne arrived, and you looked down at the golden liquid as Yoongi handed you your glass. Your fingers barely even touched, yet you felt the warmth of a thousand suns crawling up your arm, slowly. You would have flinched had the feeling not been so pleasurable, especially as Yoongi looked at you again.

He looked at you differently. Like it was his first time seeing you after a long time. Like you were a flower he had forgotten, years ago, and was now only seeing again. It made your heart stop in your chest, before it started again on an erratic beat.

“Enjoy,” he said, and he clinked his glass with yours before downing his own.

Your gaze widened as he put the glass down on the bar, wincing slightly. “What was that for?”

“Your turn.”

“What?” you let out, and you laughed.

His eyes were different again, familiar, when they looked at you this time. The eyes of the friend you had grown to know in the last few weeks. “Finish it, so we can get some real alcohol.”

“I don’t want to chug.”

“Why not?”

You pursed your lips. “I don’t want to get too drunk tonight.”

He remained silent for a time, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Why not?”

Because. Because last time he had looked at you like this while you had been drinking had led to an unimaginable chaos, one you didn’t wish to revisit. No matter how comfortable he was, Yoongi was always going to just be a friend.

“I want to remember tonight,” you chose to say, carefully. “I’ve already forgotten most of the award show, I don’t want to forget the after-party too.”

He laughed, a clear sound that was meant just for your ears, in the loud music playing in the party. It was almost your first time noticing the beat since you had joined Yoongi, as if you had joined him in a pocket outside of this room.

Crashing back to reality had you look down at your glass. And then you knocked it back, chugging it in a few long sips as Yoongi watched you with a widened gaze.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said as you put it down. “Let’s get you some water.”

“Why?” you asked. “Why do you care if I remember or not?”

Your tone had changed. He noticed it right away, and he stilled in front of you, turning to stone. “Because you’re my friend?” he answered carefully. “If you want to remember, then the good friendly thing to do is make sure you do.”

The way he said that sentence, with that low voice of his, the one that only came out when he was in private, or perhaps when he was tired… it did things to you. Made you look at him as if the light was shining differently on him.

Differently, yes, but all the same too. Shining like that night months ago, and if you weren’t in public you think you would have grabbed his collar and pulled him into a kiss.

A terrifying thought if you had ever seen one, and it made you glance around. “Should we… go somewhere else?”

It wasn’t what you had meant to ask. It was threading dangerous territory, a slope that could only lead to mistakes again. To unprofessionalism, though this time your relationship with him wasn’t professional.

You were giving yourself whiplash. All the months, of fame and newfound friendship, were giving you whiplash. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it.

“You don’t like the party?” he asked.

You met his gaze. “I know you don’t. We don’t have to stay.”

His lips parted slightly, and your eyes fell to them, admiring their pinkish tint. “What would there be for you to remember, then?”

You.

You didn’t say it, only shrugged your shoulders. “I already partied before you got here. Do you know that Sana and Jihyo are the sweetest girls?”

He smiled, softly. “Are they? I’ve never really spoken to them.”

You wet your lip, eyes sliding to the empty champagne glasses on the bar, almost at the same time as they were picked up to be put away. “Yeah. And honestly, I don’t do parties all that much either.” You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, only then noticing that your hands were shaking slightly. “I only came because you were going to be here.”

“Did you?” he asked.

He sounded like he didn’t believe you, like you were supposed to be enjoying the scene around you. And you were, you really were, but the light was shining on something else entirely now, a treasure you wanted to find, like it was but the red cross on a treasure map.

You didn’t know if it existed, but tonight you wanted to believe that it did.

“Yes, I did,” you replied truthfully.

He chuckled. “And I only came here because you were coming.”

You smiled, knowingly. “So, should we go?”

*****

The city lied beneath your feet. An ocean of twinkling lights, out of reach. Like jewels shining in the night, never-ending. You felt small, standing atop the building, and your breath froze in the air, curling up to reach the clouds above.

“It’s cold,” Yoongi stated, and you glanced at him.

His hands were buried deep in his coat pockets, and he was visibly trying to hide his face in the collar. You smiled at him, shivering in a soft breeze.

“The cold is sobering,” you replied, eyes trailing back to the city. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Yoongi took a few steps forward, until he was standing next to you. He contemplated the view, and to your surprise he tilted his head back to look at the clouds.

“The sky looks like it’s on fire,” he commented.

You imitated the position, your eyes trailing to the sky. Indeed, the clouds were shining orange, reflecting the neon lights of the city below. “It does,” you agreed. “Would make for good song lyrics.”

He chuckled. “You never stop thinking about music, do you?”

“I don’t.” You paused, and the feeling of his heavy gaze on your profile had you look at him. “Do you?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, slightly. “Sometimes, I think it’s a gift. Other times, it feels like it’s a curse.”

Understandable. Because if the grind never stopped, then neither could you.

“I’ve started writing a new song,” you revealed, as it felt fitting in the moment. Your eyes trailed back to the city below, and you wondered if this city, this collection of shimmering lights, was what you were referring to in your lyrics. If it was the dream you were writing about. “Why is it that most of my songs are sad or angry?”

Yoongi didn’t say anything for a long time. Only contemplated the city in a pensive silence. Wind lapped at his coat, at your hair, and you shivered again. Your own coat was tightly wrapped around you, but it did nothing to keep the cold at bay.

“Are you sad and angry?” he asked.

You pondered for a time. “It’s hard to let go of emotions that have been integral parts of your life for so long.”

To your surprise, he stepped closer to you. Maybe because it was cold, and your bodies gave off heat, just enough for you to be attracted to each other. Like your gravity sucked him in, and soon enough his arm was pressed against yours.

“The letting go is the hardest part,” he admitted. “Because it’s a comfort zone. But once you allow yourself to feel… it’s a whole new world.”

“How did you do it?”

He sighed, and his eyes dropped to the ground beneath your feet, no longer admiring the city. “I’d say it’s Hoba, that helped me the most. But all of them. They showed me that there’s more to life than anger and sadness.”

“Your music still carries it, though,” you pointed out.

“It does.” Head hung low, Min Yoongi looked the perfect example of defeat. Like he’d run a race, reached the end only to realize he was going in the wrong direction. “The emotions still exist. I still experience them sometimes. And…” he trailed off, looking in the distance. “It’s what my fans want of me. They don’t expect me to release soft music all that much.”

“So, you’re doing it for the fans?”

He smiled, softly. “I love my fans. I’d be nothing without them.”

A year ago you would have been deadly jealous but now, now you had fans of your own. You could understand him.

“They love you too,” you reminded him. “They’d still love you if you released different music.”

He shrugged. “I have an album coming soon. It’s different.”

“Is it?”

A car honked in the world far below. “It is. I can send it to you, if you want to listen.”

“I’d love to.”

He met your gaze, and for a moment it was as if winter had ceded its place to summer, and warmth blossomed inside of you. “As long as you let me read your lyrics.”

You winced, chuckling lightly. “Maybe when the song is ready.”

He faced you, extending a hand in the air between you. “Deal.”

You grabbed his fingers, gently. They were cold, terribly so, and you felt bad for forcing him to be out here. “Deal,” you agreed, shaking his hand.

His thumb moved on the back of your hand, slowly, drawing a strange pattern. Current flew through your bloodstream, and you shivered once more, for a completely different reason this time.

Your brain chose this moment to remind you of that night, months ago, when you had gone to his place wanting to tell him how he had made you feel. When you had seen him with his ex, with his girlfriend. When you had realized he had chosen her, though he had never really known you were an option, had he?

You let go of his hand, albeit reluctantly, but you remained facing him.

“You never told me…” you started, but didn’t know if you should finish. Mostly because you didn’t think it was a good idea to ask, not when the evening still shone like a thousand stars. Especially now that Yoongi was looking at you again, with that fond glimmer in the depths of his eyes.

“What?” he asked after a few seconds, voice small in the infinity of the world.

“You never told me why you broke up with your girlfriend, in the end.”

If the world could stop breathing, you were pretty sure it did, in that instant. It held its breath, as you watched Min Yoongi carefully.

“She cheated on me, before I met you,” he revealed, flatly. “Claiming I was too absent. I took her back when she came back… because I felt lonely. Realized she was the source of the loneliness and broke up for good.”

You held his gaze, hoping yours held nothing of how you felt. Because you felt a lot, as the truth reached your ears. You ached for him, ached at knowing that he had felt like that back then. But you ached for yourself too, because what else had he been pursuing with you other than the company she couldn’t give him?

You had just been in the right place at the right moment. Something that he had been able to use for comfort. The way you had sought his comfort, perhaps.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a while. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

His eyes were unreadable, but his cheeks were tinged red with the cold. He looked pretty, angelic, in front of you. With the burning clouds overhead, you’d almost think he was a fallen angel.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, his voice low once more. Intimate, just for you. “I never should have let her back in.”

“Why?” you asked, and your throat suddenly felt dry. You tried to swallow, but a lump made you gulp.

“Why did you actually come to me, that night?” he asked. “Not when we recorded the song. After we…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was referring to.

He was referring to the night you had believed you could confess to him how you had felt. To that night, where hope turned to decay, and all you could do was let go of comfort. All you could do was go back to the sad discomfort that was your life.

“I…” You bit your lip, pulling on some dry skin. “I wanted to tell you what it had meant for me? When we slept together.”

He gulped. You could visibly see it, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “And what did it mean?”

Your gaze dropped in the vague space between you. It felt infinitesimally immense right now, like he was an entire universe away. “We shouldn’t be speaking about that.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends now.” You met his gaze, surprised to find his pained. “Friends don’t speak about such things.”

“True friendship is when there’s no taboo subject, is it not?”

Min Yoongi and his wisdom would be the death of you.

“I guess it is,” you said. “I just… I don’t want to ruin this.”

He took a step closer to you. So close you could feel his warmth, even though the night was cold. “Why would it ruin anything?”

Your heart beat faster, in your chest. Reaching a speed unknown to it, one that left you breathless. “Because…”

Because what? You didn’t even know. You weren’t drunk, at least not on alcohol. But you sure were drunk on the aftertaste of winning the award, of being right here with him on top of this building as if you were standing in your own pocket in this world. A little like it felt down at the party, but so much more. So much so that you pictured yourself leaning in, falling into his orbit.

“I don’t think it’d ruin anything,” he said, voice so low you really felt yourself leaning in. “I was there that night. I know how it felt.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I told you I didn’t do regret, right?” he asked, question seemingly out of the blue.

“You did.”

“I regretted what I did to you, for the longest time. Thought I deserved to be lonely. So it wasn’t just because of her, that I broke up. It was because of you too. I regret going back to her in the first place.”

Softly, like a feather falling or snow dancing in the wind, your heartbeat found a steady rhythm once more.

“You shouldn’t have regretted,” you said, and you surprised both of you as your hand reached between you, and you cupped his cheek. “I don’t think we would have worked, then.”

“Why?”

“We were too different.” You chuckled, infinitely sadly. “We still are, aren’t we?”

“We’re not different in the ways that matter,” he pointed out.

And when he leaned forward, you welcomed him in as one welcomes a lover home from the war. You let him press his chapped lips on yours, let his mouth move against yours in the slowest dance. As if he was afraid you’d pull away, but tonight you didn’t want to pull away.

It wasn’t about seeking comfort anymore. It really was about going home, to something that could be great.

You kissed Min Yoongi under the clouds, in the winter night. You kissed him with all the longing you had felt, though you had been trying to ignore it. It came back, far stronger now, and it made you grab at his collar so you could pull him closer. He sighed in the kiss, big hands finding your waist, holding you in place.

And when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mingled, forming a single cloud that moved up towards the sky.

“See?” he murmured. “Nothing to be ruined.”

“Yoongi,” you breathed.

He said your name, and then pulled away, just enough for his eyes to flutter open. You looked at him too, and when your gazes met, you understood that it really had been supposed to happen this way all along. You hadn’t been supposed to be with him then. Because it was unprofessional, yes, but mostly because you would have always felt like you weren’t enough.

Hell, you didn’t know if you were enough right now, but you were already something more.

“Do you want to go in?” he asked after a moment of gazing at each other. “I’m starting to freeze.”

You laughed, the sound lighter than dust in the sun. “Yes.”

“I’d invite you to my hotel room but…” he trailed off, resting his forehead against yours again. “Let’s take this slow. Let’s wait until we’re back home.”

“We’re going home tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s still slower than going at it tonight, no?”

“We can wait longer,” you said, and you were the one that pulled away this time around. Because you needed to look him in the eye when you said the next words. “If we’re going to really do this, I want to do it the right way.”

His smile shed warmth and light on every dark spot of your soul, until you were shining from within. “Works for me.”

*****

Dating Min Yoongi felt strange. Unreal, like it was a dream come true. Like you were walking the land of dreams, and really you wished you wouldn’t have to wake up. You didn’t think you would – he pulled through every day. Met you in the middle, in the places that mattered most. He supported you as an artist, and supported you as a person too.

But for some reason, you hadn’t been able to fully give yourself to him yet. You had only been going on dates, never sleeping over, never sleeping together. And if he minded, he never said it.

The holidays came, and Yoongi invited you to a party hosted by Jeong Hoseok. All the other members were in attendance too, except Kim Taehyung, who apparently was away in Daegu for the week. Some of the members also had their partners with them – in truth, everyone did, except Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon and Jeong Hoseok, though the latter had a friend over that seemed a little too comfortable with him for her to just be a friend.

The girlfriends were nice. Sweet, another group of friends you hadn’t expected to make. None of them treated you differently because you were somehow famous, probably because they were all dating people far more famous than you’d ever be. You got along with Hoseok’s friend the most, and you thought it was only because it was also her first time meeting everyone.

The party was fun. It was more of a dinner, with alcohol and food like a banquet for the gods. You ate so much you thought you couldn’t walk anymore after, yet you managed to make your way home with Yoongi.

Because this time, when he had asked you to sleep over, you hadn’t found it in you to refuse. Perhaps because it was the holidays, and the feeling of coziness and comfort that the days oozed had you wanting to drown in his familiarity.

If Yoongi noticed the switch in you, he didn’t say. Ever so the patient man when it came to you.

You looked at him, during the drive home. His features shone softly, in the neon light of the streetlamps. It made his skin glow like honey, like amber. You reached between you, grazing your fingers on his cheek.

“What?” he asked, letting out a small chuckle. “Have they made you drink too much?”

You snorted, resting your head against your seat. “No.”

He spared a quick glance at you, before resuming his attention on the street in front of him, as he was the one driving the car. Indeed, for this private dinner you had all chosen to drive yourself, instead of asking for the company to drive you around.

“What’s up, then?”

You sighed, a little dreamily. “You’re pretty, Min Yoongi.”

It was hard to tell in this light, but you were pretty sure his cheeks had dusted with pink. “And then you say you haven’t drank too much?”

You laughed. “It’s just a compliment!”

“You don’t usually compliment me like this,” he pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong, but it felt fitting, tonight. Because you were staying over, maybe.

“Well, I should start doing it. You deserve it.”

He snorted. “You’re adorable.”

Now, it was your turn to blush, and your eyes trailed to the street in front of you.

“Am I?”

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers. “You sure are.”

When you got to his place, Yoongi parked his car in the underground parking lot. He forced you to stay in your seat while he walked around the car to hold the door open for you, and you swatted his arm as you got up.

“You know you don’t have to do this with me?”

“But I want to,” he said, pouting. “Can’t I do something for you once in a while?”

“You always do stuff for me.”

It was true. Whatever you needed Yoongi was always ready to provide, whether it was help with some lyrics or a hug.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do more,” he said as you stepped out of the car, standing next to him.

By instinct, you reached between you, one hand resting on his waist as you tilted your head back, slightly, enough to be looking up at him.

“Right,” you breathed, and your eyes moved to his lips as he wet them.

“What’s that look on your face?” he asked, voice low and husky.

You smirked, ever so slightly. “What look?”

He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to you, and the smirk disappeared. “So you want to be a brat?”

You hadn’t expected that of him. In truth, you didn’t really know how he was sexually, considering the only time you had had sex with him was when you were both drunk and vulnerable, trying to chase comfort in the other’s touch.

“Do you like that?” you asked, breathlessly.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, before pulling away to explore your features with that dark gaze of his. “I like whatever you like.”

“So if I tell you to get on your knees and eat me out you would?” you whispered, smirk moving back to your lips.

He had the decency to blush as he spared a careful look around. “Here?”

You pondered, tilting your head to the side to reveal the soft skin of your neck. “You think we can wait until we’re upstairs?”

“Anyone could see us.”

You looked around. “The garage is empty.”

He murmured your name, dangerously. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then we shall die together.”

It was the last thing you said before he pressed his lips against yours, ravishing your mouth in a wet kiss that had you moan. His large hands found your sides, pulling you back against the car until you were stuck between it and him. His tongue toyed with yours, exploring your mouth until you were panting, feeling the start of his erection on your lower stomach.

He pulled away, just enough so he could move down and press warm kisses on your jaw. He then bent down a little more, reaching your shoulder, and he bit at the skin over the collar of your coat.

You breathed out his name, sensually, as your hands got lost in his long locks. It only enticed him further, and he grinded into you. It made you throw your head back, and this time he nipped at your neck, not so gently, eliciting another moan from you.

“Gosh, Yoongi,” you said, and he raised his head to look at you.

His pupils were blown wide in his eyes, clear indicators of his lust for you. They made his gaze look like a bottomless pit, one you jumped in right as you pulled him back into another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip.

You blindly reached for the knob of the car’s door, the one for the backseat behind you, and when you found it you pushed Yoongi away, just so you could open it. As you did so, he shut the passenger side door, and he followed you in as you lied on the backseat.

He hovered over you, hair falling around his face, and you pushed it away from his face, holding it in a ponytail-like grip. Some strands escaped the confines of your fist, softly cascading the sides of his face again.

Min Yoongi was a prince. A prince and an angel. A dream, something you had never thought you’d witness yourself in your entire life. And witness you did, with your eyes and every inch of your body that you knew he’d come to worship. Just like you worshipped him and the ground he walked on.

“What?” he murmured as you just kept carefully surveying him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathed, and you watched as his mouth fell open.

He had never been good at accepting compliments, even those coming from you.

He whispered your name like a lover’s caress. “So are you. You’ve been a vision, ever since the first time I saw you.”

You wet your lips. “The first time?”

“I was walking in Hongdae, with some company staff. Didn’t get recognized by some dumb twist of luck I’d say. But you were busking.” You thought you could see him gulp. Hear him, as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I couldn’t walk away. Just kept looking at you, for so long the staff started getting worried. Because they didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. But gosh, you were so beautiful.” He chuckled, lowly. “It was like I had walked into a temple and seen a goddess.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, because you too weren’t good with compliments.

But he wasn’t done.

“And you sang. The voice of an angel, if I’m honest. I was entranced. Then I spent weeks trying to find you, making staff go to Hongdae to try and get your name. Because I needed to know you. Needed to know you weren’t just a construct of my imagination.”

He pecked your lips this time, as if he really needed to make sure you were real.

“When I started listening to your music, I recognized myself in the lyrics,” he admitted. “That’s why I approached you in the first place, and then I just…” He rested his forehead against yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. “I just needed to have you in my life. Any way whatsoever. I was stupid to stay with Yejun, because I think I already knew then that I was going to fall in love with you.”

You repeated his name, like he was a melody. And to you he was. He was your melody, the music that made your soul dance. The muse to your mind, and the song to your heart. “We all are stupid sometimes.”

He chuckled. “I’m relieved the months have led me to you after all. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“You do.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, trying to bring him closer. “You deserve everything in this world.”

The following kiss was slow. Languid, as if he needed to trace his love into you, using his lips to build you anew. It was beauty personified, comfort revived. Everything in you went steady, and then sang to the melody he carried, the one you carried together.

When he pulled away from the kiss to look at you with his dark eyes, cheeks flushed from the ministrations, you read the desire on his features, like one would read a sheet music. Unsure at first, focusing, until the language of music took over you.

At least, that was how it worked for you.

“I want you,” you breathed in the space between you, and he nodded.

“I know.” He laughed, looking around. “You made me get in this car for that reason, didn’t you?”

You barely remembered. All you knew was that you never wanted to exit the safety of this nest, with him. Of his embrace, and of the fondness and desire in his eyes. Whatever song passion was about to have you dance to, you were ready to jump in, feet first and soul open.

“Eat me out,” you breathlessly begged, and his pink lips parted slightly.

“I’m no contortionist,” he joked, unexpectedly. “Can you move up?”

You laughed, slightly pushing him so he knelt between your legs. “You’re annoying. Yes I can.”

He offered you his secretive smile, and then his hands deftly discarded you of your coat. He took his off too, throwing both on the passenger seat. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You bit your lip, a mischievous glint igniting in your eyes. “I think you should work for it.”

At that his face went fully dark, like all the light had gone out. He looked like the devil incarnate, the fallen angel you had thought to see on the rooftop of the hotel some weeks ago.

He said your name like a warning, and it made your head cock to the side. “Aren’t you a good boy? I think I remember you liked me ordering you around last time.”

In truth, you weren’t even sure he had. Just felt like being a brat, and you had always been more on the dominant side anyway.

“As I said,” he murmured, and he bent down to ravish another kiss on your lips, “my goal is to make you feel good. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

That was enough for you, and you quickly moved up until your back was resting against the car door. He took off your shoes, before pulling your dress pants down your legs.

“I’m already dripping,” you purred, hand reaching to palm yourself over your panties. “I think I’ve been dripping all night thinking about you.”

He chuckled. “So you’ve been thinking about fucking me all night?”

“Oh, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Just wanted to make you wait.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Eat me out and I’ll tell you.”

He let out a sound between a groan and a moan, and then he moved back, resting one knee on the ground so he could position himself between your legs. “Fuck, baby.” He looked at your clothed cunt, and then his eyes met yours again. “You really are dripping. I don’t even have to touch you.”

You breathed out an uneven breath. “Touch me.”

It was his turn to smirk, though he still obeyed, leaning forward so he could kiss your entrance over your panties. “Like this?”

“You’re a brat,” you said.

“Maybe.”

“Fucking eat me out, Min Yoongi, before I decide not to have sex with you tonight.”

Emboldened, he said, “As if you’d step away now.”

This time, he sucked on your clit, eyes never leaving yours. The devil incarnate indeed. Though, it seemed he had teased you enough, because he pulled your panties to the side, and his tongue dove once between your folds.

“You taste so good,” he praised.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, and then he lapped at your entrance, before swirling his tongue around your clit. “Yeah.”

When his mouth closed around the sensitive nub and he sucked hard, your lips parted on a silent moan, eyes closing tightly with the pleasure that moved through you.

“You know,” he said, barely pulling away. You could feel his hot breath on your pussy, and it only made you ache for him. “This time I want you to come. I’ll make you fucking come until you can’t walk anymore.”

“Jesus, fuck, Yoongi,” you uttered, and you cracked an eye open to see him smirking devilishly between your legs. “You go all romantic on me and then you say that?”

The smirk turned into a smile, and he pressed a kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Can’t I be romantic and want to make you feel good at the same time?”

“What are you doing talking to me, then?” you asked. “Shouldn’t you be –“

He didn’t let you finish before he dove back in, and this time he dove hard. As if he wanted you to forget every word in the dictionary, every song you had ever sang. All that was left was the sounds of your pants and moans, entwined with the squelching of his fingers when they started slipping in and out of you, following the same relentless pace as his tongue.

Yoongi was too skilled with his tongue. You remembered as much from that night months ago, even though you had been drunk then. You were a little drunk today, but the alcohol had mostly worn off on the way home. So it didn’t surprise you when an orgasm bubbled on the horizon, rushing towards you faster than you had expected it to.

When Yoongi sucked hard, teeth grazing your clit, you lost it, crashing into your high like a car crashing into a wall at eighty miles per hour. You cried out, something that resembled his name, and your hands pulled at his locks, as your hips rocked forward.

He planted a firm hand on your stomach to force you to stay down as he pulled away, resting his head against your inner thigh. His gaze met yours, and he resumed the movements of his fingers.

You hadn’t noticed he had stopped in the first place.

“That felt good?” he asked.

It felt better than good. It felt like a symphony, a complete orchestra guiding you to heaven. A choir, beautiful, angelic.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Fuck it did.”

He smirked, content, as he fingered you, slowly. “That was only the first one.”

“We’re going to have to work on you too,” you purred. “I want to see you come.”

Your words shut him up, as he inhaled sharply, lust burning so bright in his pupils you thought he might combust in front of you. Yet, he pressed into that sweet spot inside of you, arching his fingers so he could play with it until you were seeing stars again.

You stopped him before he could make you come. Mostly because, when you squirted, you were done for after. You weren’t ready to be done tonight.

“Let’s go up to your condo,” you suggested as he threw you a questioning glance. “As much as fucking in a car’s hot, I’d prefer the comfort of your bed.”

“Your wish is my command,” he agreed, and he sucked a hickey on your inner thigh before pulling his fingers out of you. He put your panties back in place gently, and his eyes fell to his fingers. You both watched as he spread them, strings of your juice connecting the digits still. “Fuck, look at this.”

“That’s all because of you,” you praised. “A good fucking boy.”

He chuckled, wetting his lips. “Always, for you.”

He licked at his fingers, as if to clean them, before he seemed to consider something else. When he brought them closer to your mouth, you huffed a moan before wrapping your lips around the digits, sucking as your tongue cleaned them. His breathing turned a little ragged, and he looked as if he was seconds away from fucking you right then and there when you pulled away with a satisfying pop.

“Everything okay?” you asked, teasingly.

“The elevator ride is going to be so long,” he muttered, and you let out a laugh as you pulled your pants up your legs.

He handed you your shoes, and you quickly put them back on as he got out of the car, grabbing the coats on the passenger seat. It took you a few seconds, but soon enough, you were out too, ready to go up.

Yoongi wasn’t wrong. Just waiting for the elevator took forever, and when you were encased in it, you both exchanged a look so full of longing you jumped on him, grabbing his collar so you could pull him into a heated kiss. He pushed you against the wall, sucking on your bottom lip as the elevator moved up, ever so slowly.

It felt like time was stretching, turning to infinity, and he was sucking a hickey on your neck by the time the elevator came to a halt, doors sliding open on his level.

You walked out, hot and bothered, making your way to his door. He dialed the code in, pushed the door open, and as soon as it was closed, he was on you again, pressing you against the door. He must have dropped the coats on the floor, because his hands held your cheeks as he kissed you stupid, toying with your mouth with that wicked tongue of his.

“Yoongi,” you moaned in his mouth, and he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours.

You both breathed raggedly for a few seconds, and then he grabbed your hand, moving it to where his dick pressed against his pants.

“You got me so fucking horny,” he said, and he chuckled, low sound that reverberated through every inch of you. “I’m so fucking hard and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

“Should I suck your dick?” you asked. “I feel like you’d be coming down my throat in no time.”

He moaned as you palmed it harder, and he grinded his hips, seeking friction. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Whatever?” you asked, and you let out a small dangerous laugh. “So if I ask you to fuck my ass you would.”

It wasn’t that you wanted that. You just knew he was wrapped around your finger, ready to obey your every command. The way his dick twitched under your hand told you so, and he let out a breathy sound.

“You like that?” he asked.

You captured his lips in a kiss, and once you pulled away, you said, “It could be fun. But I’d rather have you fuck my pussy tonight.”

He nodded against you, before straightening. His gaze drank you in for a few seconds, and you admired his swollen lips. They looked even prettier like this, especially knowing that you were the cause of it. That your ministrations made him look like this, like he was minutes away from losing it.

You were going to make sure he did. But first, you wanted to make your way to his room. Because as much as you wanted him, you weren’t an animal. You could wait a moment longer.

“Let’s go to your room,” you told him. “Then you can fuck me.”

“Alright,” he said, and he added your name like a sinful melody. “You think you can come around my dick?”

“Fill me up and we’ll see.”

He let out a small whiny moan, and then you pushed him away so you could take off your shoes. He kicked his off too, a little awkwardly, and a moment later you were following him up the stairs, both of you ignoring the barking of his dog.

Yoongi had taken to caging Holly in the kitchen, mostly because he didn’t want the little dog to pee on the carpet of the living room once more. You both ignored the dog, and you would have felt a little guilty had he not thrown you a lustful look over his shoulder.

“I’ll fill you up just fine, if that’s what you want,” he said, in response to what you had said earlier. “I’ll fill you up and watch you drip with my cum after.”

Your mouth fell open, mostly because you were surprised at his crude words.

“You know, I thought you’re more of a sub,” you admitted, and you chuckled. “Seems getting you horny makes you a brat too, uh?”

“Seems you make me a brat,” he replied, and he chuckled too, slightly shaking his head. “I am more of a sub though. Hence why I’ll do whatever the fuck you want.”

You reached his room, and you cocked your head to the side as he paused in the doorway, turning to look at him.

“Take off your clothes.”

If he was surprised by your command, he didn’t let it show. He instead obeyed, slowly unbuttoning the pale nude colored dress shirt he was wearing.

Some Valentino dress shirt he had worn in Paris, that you had told him you loved too much for him not to wear again. He had taken to wearing it more often than not, especially when it was just the two of you.

The shirt fell softly to the ground, slowly. It puddled at his feet, and he cocked his head to the side as your eyes roamed his figure. Barely stopping on the scars on his shoulder, scars you promised yourself you’d kiss later, when the sins had come to completion.

He took his time to rid himself of his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. They burned with desire, so much so that you thought you had caught fire. You weren’t sure you were hearing an angelic choir anymore – you rather thought you had descended straight to Hell, and you were more than okay with it.

The pants fell at his ankles, and he stepped out, blinking once. “Should I take this off too?” he asked, thumbs hooking in his underwear.

“That and the socks,” you said, nodding your head.

He bit his lip, wet it, and then the boxers joined the rest of his clothes on the floor. He bent down, took off the socks, and then he was standing again, in his full naked glory, hard dick standing proud against his stomach. You took a step closer, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, and you pressed a kiss on his jaw.

“Were you good enough for me to suck you a little?” you asked. You nipped at the skin of his neck, and he let out a soft moan. “I’ll suck you if you promise you won’t come.”

He laughed, and he sounded a little scared, but infinitely turned on. “I’ll try.”

You held his dick tighter. “You’re going to have to do better than try.”

He didn’t reply, just surveyed you with his dark lustful eyes, as you dropped to your knees. As if he needed all his focus on not coming, even as he drank in the sight of you on your knees for him. Already licking your lips, remembering just how good he tasted then.

He tasted just as good today. Maybe even a little more, because he was yours, and that had to account for something. He tasted like ambrosia, like the wine of the gods. His dick was rock hard in your mouth, and his eyes shut as soon as you started working on him.

Probably because, if he was to look at you for a moment longer, he was going to come. He really was wrapped around your fingers again, and so you offered the best you had to offer. And when his breathing turned so ragged you were pretty sure he was about to lose his fight against his orgasm, you pulled away.

It looked like it pained him, but when you got up and captured his lips in yet another languid kiss, he kissed you back with a fervor you almost weren’t expecting. It made your head spin, until you were a moaning mess.

Or maybe that was because he had sunk two fingers inside of you again, sliding his hand in your pants, and he was fucking you like that.

“You’re so,” he started, and he hissed as you bit at his neck, “so wet. I’m going to slide right in.”

You rested your head against his shoulder as his fingers kept fucking you, so quickly your legs started trembling. You grabbed his wrist, trying to slow him down, but if there was a thing about Min Yoongi that you were now realizing, it was that he was just as skilled with his fingers than with his mouth.

“Fuck,” you hissed against his shoulder. “Stop, I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss on your temple, and his digits left you empty. He teased your clit for a moment, and your teeth sunk in his skin in retaliation. He cursed under his breath, but he finally slid his hand out of your pants, bringing it up to his mouth to clean himself.

You didn’t move as he did so, mostly because your legs still felt infinitely weak. You only moved when he grabbed your shoulders gently, pushing you away just enough for you to meet his gaze.

“You want me to fuck you?” he teased, and you clenched your jaw.

As you loosened it, your tongue poked at your cheek and your eyes turned dark. Lustful, sinful. Vengeful. “I didn’t tell you you could finger me like this, did I?”

He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

You grabbed his balls, squeezing lightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to have him tense next to you. “Oh, I enjoyed plenty. Now, why don’t you get the clothes off of me?”

He smirked, nodding against you, and then he pulled away. His large skilled hands quickly rid you of your clothing, and soon enough you were standing naked next to him.

“Should I fuck you now?” he asked, with that same bratty attitude he was just now getting.

“Bed,” you ordered. “I’ll fuck myself on you.”

“You want to use me?”

You captured his lips in a kiss, sucking on his tongue when it slid in your mouth. “I will use you.”

At that he gulped, but it was enough to convince him to obey. He finally moved towards the bed, laying down on the pillowy softness of his mattress, hands propped behind his head. He surveyed you carefully as you stalked closer, though you aimed for his night table first.

“Is that where you keep your condoms?” you asked.

He seemed scared for a time, sitting up quickly with a widened gaze. “Let me get that for you.”

You paused, hand on the knob of the drawer. “Got something to hide?”

He gulped, seemingly searching for words. His tongue darted on his pink lips, and then he let out a nervous chuckle. “Not really.”

“Okay?” you said, cocking your head to the side. “So I can open this?”

He breathed in, holding his breath as he nodded.

It wasn’t anything embarrassing, if you were honest. All you found in the drawer were condoms, lube and a pair of handcuffs. At least that was what you thought at first glance. You met his gaze, grabbing the handcuffs. Though your fingers grazed something else, and you shot a confused look to the drawer.

That was when you noticed the black anal plug. Your lips parted, and your gaze met Yoongi’s once more.

“So you do like anal play, do you?” you breathed out.

He looked away from you, though a smirk played on his lips. With that deep, scratchy voice of his, he said, “Can’t say that I don’t.”

You let go of the handcuffs, grabbing the anal plug instead. “You use that on yourself?” you asked, raising it in the space between you.

“Both me and my partners,” he replied truthfully.

You grabbed the lube, and then made your way to the bed. “I’ve never had an anal plug in before,” you admitted. “Now you’ve got my curiosity piqued.”

He laughed, and it wasn’t horny or anything of the sorts. Just sweet. “You want to try?”

The dominant side of you wanted you to say you’d rather put it in him, but there was something about the unknown that made your breath hitch in your throat. Because you did want to know.

You put the plug and lube on the bed, before sitting next to him. He put a large hand on your thigh, running it up and down leaving goosebumps behind. He was looking at you expectantly, and you bit your lip, finally nodding your head yes.

“I’d love to try.”

He leaned closer, pecking your lips once in a familiar gesture before motioning to his bed. “I’d recommend getting on all fours. Face-first in the pillows.”

“What makes you think you can order me around, mmh?” you purred.

His hand gently cupped your neck, skilled fingers immediately finding the arteries. He didn’t choke you right away, instead forcing you to tilt your head back. He sucked a hickey on your jaw, and you hissed, trying to move away, but he was firmly holding you into place.

“The fact you want me to use my toys on you, maybe?”

The fucking brat.

You rarely were silenced, when it came to sex, but it seemed Yoongi had found how to render you mute.

He smirked, and then he choked you, mouth finding yours in yet another hot, languid kiss that left your mind spinning. Or maybe that was the absence of a blood flow to your head. All you could do was reach between you, aiming blindly for his dick. He was rock hard, and you jerked him off slowly, mostly because you were too focused on the kiss. On every swipe of his tongue, on every grunt he emitted.

When he pulled away, fingers finally letting go of your neck, you breathed in shakily.

“I guess I’ll get on all fours then,” you said.

It must have sounded funny, because Yoongi laughed, pecking your forehead. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek once more, and you slightly shook your head. “You really are going to be the death of me.”

“Just trying to make you feel good,” he said, face falling fully serious. Serious and dark, like he was about to ruin you. And you liked the switch in dynamics, even though you had always been more of a dom yourself.

You positioned yourself, ass up and face down in the pillows. Yoongi kneeled behind you, and you heard more than you saw when he uncapped the lube bottle. You startled a little when the first drop of cold liquid hit your asshole, but when Yoongi started rubbing it around, your eyes shut and you focused on the feeling.

Though new and foreign, it was a pleasurable feeling, one that made your pussy clench around nothing. Especially as Yoongi pushed against the tight ring of muscle, dipping his thumb inside.

“You think your virgin ass can take it?” he asked.

He moved his thumb out, then in again, slowly. You gulped, eyes still tightly squeezed shut. “I can take it for you.”

He remained silent, and you cracked an eye open to look at him. His cheeks and his upper chest were flushed red, and his gaze dripped with lust for you. You wanted to swim in the lust, to drown in it. No matter what it took.

His thumb slid out, replaced by a finger. A second later, another finger joined, and you let out a breathy sound. Gazes still connected, your mind zeroed in on him fingering your ass, slowly. When he figured you were ready enough, which he probably understood by the breathy sounds and moans falling from your mouth, Yoongi’s digits left you empty. They were soon replaced by the plug that he lightly pressed against the ring of muscle, never pushing in.

“It’s likely to hurt,” he warned you. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“You’d rather me put it in your ass?” you said through gritted teeth.

He bent down, pressing a kiss on your cheek before he straightened again. “I’ve done it countless times before, I’m a lot more used to it than you.”

“Just put it in, Yoongi,” you said, voice low.

He smirked, and when he started pushing in, you clenched your hands in fists, grabbing at the comforter of his bed. He was right – it hurt. But you wanted to show him you could take it, wanted to prove you could, and so you kept the pained whimper in. Kept your gaze connected to his, trying to keep your face neutral too.

It took a moment, and Yoongi had to pull it out a couple of times before he actually managed to get it all the way in, but a few minutes later, the anal plug was fully embedded into you, making you feel full in a whole new way.

“How’s that feel?” he asked, large hands gently caressing your ass.

“Full,” you replied.

He laughed. “I haven’t even started fucking you yet.”

The thought that he was going to fuck you, while you were impaled by his anal plug… it had a moan bubble in your throat, unexpectedly. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Should I handcuff you too?”

Now, you needed to regain control. So you straightened, turning towards him. “I’ll cuff you. Lie down.”

He seemed surprised by the new switch in dynamics, but he still complied, lying down on his back as you fished the handcuffs out of his night table. You also grabbed a condom, and then you moved back to his side.

The key to the handcuffs currently was in the lock, and you took it out, eyeing it pensively. “Should I hide this?” you asked, gaze darting to Yoongi.

He gulped, turning his head to the side to regard you. His hair fell on his forehead, and you put the condom down so you could brush it away.

“Just put it on the night table, we don’t want to lose it.”

You tutted, but you still did as told, knowing that it would be a stupid thing to throw it somewhere in the room. You then gently grabbed one of Yoongi’s wrists, cuffing it. As you pulled his arm over his head, he himself brought his other wrist to you, and you imprisoned it too. You made sure it wasn’t too tight, before sitting back on your heels. It made the anal plug move inside of you, and you let out an unexpected moan.

His eyes widened at the sound, and you leaned down to steal a kiss on his lips.

“Now,” you said once you straightened. “Let me put this on.”

You grabbed the foil package, tearing it open to fish the condom out of it. Yoongi was still watching you carefully, awaiting your next move. You grabbed the base of his cock, before lazily stroking it. He gulped, lips parting slightly.

“You think you’re ready?”

He chuckled, glancing down to his dick. “Pretty sure I am.”

You smirked, cocking your head to the side, though you were done being a tease. You wanted to feel him, to have him inside of you. So you rolled the condom on with an expert hand before climbing on his lap. Your hands landed on his chest, and you gently ran them down, along his ribs, and then back up to settle around his neck.

His pretty eyes just watched, and suddenly warmth bubbled inside of you. Not arousal, but really the kind of warmth only looking at a lover can bring out of someone. You stilled, meeting his gaze, and you wondered if he could see the adoration filling your eyes.

He must have, because he said, “I am going to fall so hard for you.”

You bent down, and it was with lips connected that Yoongi pushed inside of you, slowly. It hurt, stretched and burned, with the anal plug, so he was gentle. He was soft, and when he was fully embedded in you, you pulled away. Just enough to meet his gaze, and see the passion lighting up the depths of his pupils.

“Gosh, Yoongi,” you breathed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Feelings swelled in your chest. Like wind catching in the sails of a boat, until you felt yourself rushing forward. Towards him, finally meeting him. Finally finding the comfort that was meant to be yours. You kissed him again then, slowly, languidly. Passionately, tracing a melody of love and desire on his lips. One he reciprocated, and his cuffed hands moved until his arms were wrapped around you, trapping you into place.

He slowly fucked up into you, lips never faltering against your mouth. He swallowed every little breathy sounds you let out, grunted on your lips until it seemed passion gained over love, and his pace increased. It increased until he was pounding into you, and it was his turn to grunt and moan against your lips.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, and he held you tighter, closer, crushing all of you against him. When his movements grew sloppy, you tried to pull away, but his cuffed hands kept you into place.

He chuckled, sucking on your shoulder. “You’re stuck here, baby.”

“I just want to fuck myself on you,” you whined.

He sighed. “I like having you close.”

The way he said it made you bite at his neck. “I want you to fucking come, Yoongi. I want to look you in the eye while you come.”

He moaned, and to your surprise he let you go, hands going back over his head. You straightened, eyes finding his, and his ragged breathing told you enough – he was going to come in no time. So you started moving, up and down, one hand massaging your breast while the other settled on his neck again.

“Faster,” he begged, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

He hissed, though his gaze found yours. He looked desperate, under you like this, and you smirked, tilting your head to the side. You still started going faster, and soon enough your second hand settled on his shoulder to give you better leverage.

Yoongi was close. You could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open, mind swimming in ecstasy as his high neared the horizon. You wondered how long he’d fight it – how long he’d keep his sinful gaze on you, just wanting to please you.

He moaned, loud, jaw going slack. Still, you didn’t feel the telltale twitch of his dick inside of you, telling you that he had yet to lose it. So you started choking him, moaning his name when his hips started moving up, meeting yours halfway. The sound of skin slapping on skin became louder, and a second later he cursed, loud and clear. His hands flew towards you, and you grabbed at the chain linking his two wrists, picking up the pace as he released inside of you.

Something about the twitch of his dick had you racing towards another orgasm, and you clenched around him. He probably figured what it meant, because he forced you to lean down, wrapping his cuffed hands around you. Holding you close, he fucked into you, rough. The feeling, combined with the anal plug, had you soaring up to the sky, and you came blindly, vision turning fully white.

He milked your orgasm, as it kept going on and on. You were a moaning mess, and his grunts entwined with your sounds until all that was left was you and him, breathing raggedly. You rested your forehead against his, and he kept you close as you came down from the high that sex with him consisted of.

He pulled out of you when your heart had finally calmed down in your chest, and you pulled away just enough to be able to look him in the eye, his cuffed hands keeping you from moving too far.

“Holy shit,” you said, and he laughed, softly.

“Yeah.” He pulled you down to press a kiss on your lips, before moving his hands over his head once more. “That was amazing.”

“Why did we wait?” you asked.

He laughed again. “I would wait for you for eternity.”

“You’re so cheesy, Min Yoongi,” you teased him, and you bent to peck his nose.

He smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m just happy.”

“Your happiness is a beautiful sight to see.”

There was a silence, of you gazing at each other. And you thought, you thought if the loneliness was meant to lead to this moment, right now, you’d do it all over again.

Because happiness, it really was a beautiful sight to see.

*****

You watched Yoongi carefully, as he read the lyrics of your song. You had finally managed to finish it, a month into the new year. It led somewhere else than you had first wanted it to, but you thought it was fitting.

You could only hope that he agreed with you.

You blinked as time stretched, with him just reading. You followed his eyes as they skimmed the paper, going back to some line once in a while. You didn’t know if it was because of disapproval, or because he liked your turn of phrase. It was hard to tell, because professional Yoongi was sitting across from you.

Professional Yoongi didn’t let his emotions show on his face.

Holly barked somewhere on your left, startling you. While Yoongi read, you went to the dog, petting it with clammy hands. Because the silence meant nothing good, right? He probably didn’t like the song.

Anxiety was starting to make you spiral when Yoongi said, “Wow.”

Relief flooded through you as you glanced at him. “What do you think?”

“Is this… it’s about us.”

You nibbled at your lower lip. “It is.”

He murmured your name, right as you straightened to walk back to where he was sitting, on the couch. You sat next to him, holding his gaze.

“Never thought I’d be someone’s muse someday.”

You threw him a no-bullshit look. “You are the muse of a lot of people, Yoongi.”

He smirked wickedly. “Am I?”

You said nothing, because really there was nothing to say. He just smiled, that gummy smile of his, and your heart swelled with fondness.

“You’re going to release this?” he asked.

You wet your lips, nodding your head. “I have an idea for a melody, but I thought you… maybe you could help?”

His eyes sparkled. “I have something that could work.”

He grabbed your hand, jumping to his feet to pull you behind him, towards his studio. Halfway up the stairs, you tugged on his hand, trying to gain his attention.

“What?” he asked softly.

“I want to release it with the song.”

He stopped walking, and you almost bumped into him.

“The song song?”

You nodded. “I was thinking of an EP? I have two other songs I used to play when I went busking that I never recorded. I thought, why not record and release everything together?”

His face split into a smile once again, and he pulled you in his chest. You almost fell, and it made the both of you laugh, until you finally started walking up the stairs again.

“It’s a good idea,” he said. “It’s going to be perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, because you doubted that it’d be perfect, but with Yoongi helping you, you knew it’d be good. And good was enough for you. Good was smiles and warmth and the flush of his cheeks whenever you complimented him.

Min Yoongi was good, in all the ways that mattered. He was good to you, and good to the world around him. He was good at what he did, producing a melody for you that resonated with your soul, with the lyrics you had put down on the paper. Lyrics that came back to your mind, as you watched him working on his computer, a focused look on his features.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to dreams

Bright lights and Heaven’s door

I knock and scream at them, open

In a world where no one knows my name

I can almost hear Heaven’s choirs

You’d think they’d ring true and high

But I think they’re the devil in disguise

They push me out and in the mud

I beg on my knees, they don’t hear me

In the land where no one knows my name

I’m the scraps that you’ve thrown away

They say one day I’ll understand

But I’ll be the one to make the rules now ay

It starts out slowly

Your light and darkness, everything

Success comes and goes, and I

If I make the rules, then I’ll make them bleed

Haters, they think they know

But ignorance is their song

They had me on my knees

Now I watch them beg, scream

I’ll never fucking care for them

In the land where no one knew my name

Now I look down to the world

And I think they live in hell

In the land where no one knew my name

I was no one, I was scraps and mud

The mud’s taken shape now

It screams of your name, more than mine

I was thrown to hell, burned eternity

But I made the rules, right?

If hell is for the lonely people

Then I think we’ve found each other

They brought me down when they could ay

Now I stand tall and proud

Who cares about Heaven, about the choirs

When you stand next to me

They thought they could bring me down

I laugh and say, “Watch them try”

But can they, when I’ve got you

We made the rules and now we reign

Over this hell of lonely people

And heavy is the crown, yeah

But light is the heart,

With you, a thousand eternities

Won’t be enough to bring us down

In the land where no one knew my name

Still you knew it

And isn’t that all that matters?

In the hours of darkness

Down in the mud

You said my name and I looked up

If hell is a lonely place

Then maybe you’re my heaven

And maybe, maybe you had always been meant to love Min Yoongi. Reigning over your little world, with him.

That night, you laid in bed entwined with him, listening to his deep breathing as he slept the night away. Silver light from the moon outside lit up his features, and you took a moment to admire him. To admire his softness, and the flutter of his eyelids whenever he moved in his sleep.

He looked like a prince, regal, eternal, lying next to you like this. His steady breathing was comfort, and his beauty was awe. It was unbelievable that he was yours, that he was to be by your side from now on and until the end.

Loneliness was a distant song, when Min Yoongi was next to you. And you knew he wasn’t to go, not anymore. Because, no matter how unbelievable it was, Yoongi was truly meant to reign over the world, with you.

So now you’d reign.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Woooow I hope we enjoyed this! I was really excited to post this after The Forgotten Spaces. What did we think?

Taglist:

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn

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outrogi · 2 years ago

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And at last, I've caught up with the story that stole my heart so long ago and I didn't even know it was a series 🫣

THIS

THIS story just THIS

If I had to pick a story to stay with me forever, to reread over and over? This one's it. It damn well could be my all time favorite

The absolute filth in the smut, the attitude and the chemistry from the mc and yoongi, the freaking TENSION!!! The fluff? Don't even get me started. The side characters tho?? They own my heart. The sibling relationship, the amount of soul crushing moments that had me losing me mind... the happiest of sighs

It had me kicking my feet, actually yelling into my pillow so many times I am still so freaking giddy just thinking about it

I'm whipped

Completely gone for 3tan

I could list on and on everything about it that makes my chest so full but I'm just gonna wrap it up at: read this. Read it, and reread it, and gobble up on all the extra content (i sure as hell will now) and join this incredible ride

I read the first two chapters back then and thought it was a two-shot and just yesterday I had the delight of my LIFE when I realized it was a full on series with so much content to last me the author's break 🤌🏻

If you haven't read this yet, go fall in love with this story, go go

You'll absolutely adore it, I sure as hell did

Thank you author for this masterpiece 🤧 Its so wonderful, I can't wait for future chapters <3

forfeit (3tan) (m) | myg

title: forfeit (m) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: something is up with yoongi. note: alright, y’all. i won’t say much here, other than thank you. thank you all endlessly for the support that you’ve shown me and this series thus far. it’s been one heck of a ride, and a huge part of that is bc of all of you. i will leave the rest of my mushy thoughts for the end bc the wait for this has been long enough! note 2: if you haven’t read the three tangerines series yet, read the other parts first! it will all make more sense. lastly, this chapter wasn’t beta’d bc i wanted it to be a surprise for everyone! warnings: pov switch (just one), cursing, house party, yoongi in glasses<33, angst, choking, crying, pen*tration, studio talk, jk is here and he is blond lmao, BRO REVEAL FINALLYYY, hair/head pulling, hitting from the back, protected s*x, uhhhhhhh 34+35 l o l, oral (f/m rec), rough s*x, kissing (yes, this is a warning and i’m warning u that it’s a warning), a struggle, spanking, assss play, yoongi is rude, overthinking, did i say angst?, alcohol, weed mention, spitting, manhandling, cowgirl, the chains!! stay!! on!!, body worship, obligatory ‘yoongi on the phone’ warning :)) drop date: october 25th, 2022, 7:17pm est word count: 22.6k holy hell

“You in all day, too?”

Keep reading

#smut myg #fluff myg #angst myg #fave myg #fav myg #i have no words #none #currently ascending #myg

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alphabetboyluvr · 6 months ago

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HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning.

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed.

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long.

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many.

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel.

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening.

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

A fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors had been fought earlier that evening, and you'd been the poor sod declared as the loser.

Already half a bottle down, they're drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again.

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities.

It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows.

They rarely ever 'hang out', 'cause work often feels like that anyway. It's only when they take a break that they realise how much they enjoy each other's company. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on. As you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut.

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again.

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks.

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too.

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin.

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #rockstar!yoongi #yoongi fluff #bangtan ff #bts x reader #yoongi masterlist #yoongi x reader #yoongi ff #rockstar!bts #dappleddaisies #byholly #dating app au #rockstar au #myg x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut

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pennyellee · 7 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐭

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings:minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, religious references, mentiones of physical violence, loss of blood, incision wound, suicide attempt, strong language, consented sexual intercourse, oral sex, fingering, handjob, emotional distress, remorse, verbal confrontation, emotional manipulation, suicidal ideation, bargaining, ... (if i forgot smth, pls i'm so sorrryy)

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 11,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: is at the end of the chapter! 🫧🩵

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER IX

lítost (n.) a state of agony and torment by a sudden sight of one’s misery

She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, the soft rustle of wind making her hair dance. The scent of fresh blooms filled the air. She buried her feet into the warm sand and smelled the summer heat mixed with the salty ocean. It was as if time stood still, frozen in a moment of perfect happiness.

She relished the sensation of sand between her toes, the soft grains shifting beneath her feet with each step she took. As she gazed out at the endless expanse of the ocean, the horizon stretched out before her like a canvas painted with shades of blue and gold. The waves lapped gently against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that echoed the beating of her heart.

She slowly returned to the porch of a quaint cottage, the soft glow of sunset casting a warm embrace around her. Y/N could hear the front door to open when she carefully slumped down to one of the armchairs in the cosy living room.

“I’m home!”

His footsteps were steady and purposeful as he crossed the threshold, his presence filling the room with a sense of familiarity that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, his voice like a soft melody that danced through the air, sending shivers down her spine. He moved closer, his features slowly coming into focus as he stepped into the light.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. His eyes were dark and intense, but filled with a warmth that made her pulse quicken with anticipation.

“How was your day?” she asked standing up again to greet him, her voice barely above a whisper as she took in his rugged appearance, the faint stubble lining his jaw, the way his hair fell effortlessly across his forehead.

“Been better, -”

“-hurried home to you, love,” he replied, his voice low and husky as he reached out to take her hand in his. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her veins, igniting a fire deep within her soul. She feels such a strong connection to him, not stopping to think why.

Y/N’s eyes wandered around the room, overlooking the family portraits on a wall full of memories. Her fingers enveloped his dark soft hair, playing with them. As she caressed his hair, a sense of comfort washed over her, as if she had done this a thousand times before. The warmth of his hand in hers felt familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “And how is my sunshine?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the endearment, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her eyes soft with affection as she smiled up at him.

“Missed you,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. His lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes glowing with adoration as he leaned in to press another kiss to her forehead.

“Did you?” he teased her.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush at his teasing tone, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she nodded in response.

“Of course, -” she replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. “You know I always miss you when you’re not home.”

He grinned at her words, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, we better fix that, love,” he said, his voice laced with warmth as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. Y/N melted into his embrace, her heart fluttering with joy as she wrapped her arms around him, savouring the feeling of his lips against hers.

“Good enough?” He asked, his tone playful.

“Maybe a tiny bit more,” she murmured, her voice filled with love. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he pulled back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Is that so?” he teased again, his voice husky with desire. Without waiting for her response, he captured her lips in another searing kiss, his hands trailing down her sides, igniting a fire deep within her.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she melted into his embrace, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss, losing herself in the intensity of their passion. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of them, their bodies pressed together in a perfect symphony of desire and longing.

“Seems like I can’t get enough of you, love,” he moaned to the kiss, his hand already travelling past her underwear to coat his fingers with her juices. The nearest wall served as a support column for her once she wrapped one of her legs around his waist, working on his suit pants.

With each touch, each caress, she felt herself slipping deeper into the abyss of desire, her body humming with pleasure as his fingers expertly explored her most intimate places. She gasped as he skilfully teased her, sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through her veins.

Hiking the hem of her dress up, the nearest table collided with her upper body, her hand spread over the width of the wood, gripping the edge forcefully. Within her, a fire burned bright, consuming her with a fervour she had never known before, as she surrendered herself completely.

“Such a pretty ass, -” slapping the soft skin with his palm he lowered to taste the juices she produced. Y/N’s free hand reached to press his head to her heat, moving her hips slightly to the rhythm of his tongue.

The feeling of his warm breath against her skin, the flick of his tongue, sent her spiralling into ecstasy. Her hand gripped the edge of the table tighter, her knuckles turning white as she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of his intoxicating taste.

With each flick of his tongue, she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge, the fire within her burning brighter with each passing moment. Before she could release with a loud moan he slapped the other cheek, turning her over while he straightened himself behind her, chuckling at her frustration once he did so. With a hunger that bordered on desperation, he positioned himself, his hands roaming over her curves as he leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.

“Is my baby needy?” a soft whimper came out of her, she nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she craved more of his touch, more of his intoxicating presence.

“Yes, -” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she pressed her hips back against him, desperate for the connection she knew only he could provide.

With a swift movement, he entered her from behind, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her lips. The sensation of him filling her, stretching her in all the right ways, sent waves of addiction coursing through her body. His movements slow and deliberate as he fills her completely. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she felt him moving inside her, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over her.

“Fuck!” She had to curse out loud, biting her lip. The room was filled with loud moans and groans, the audible skin to skin contact as he raised the tempo, his hand pressing her head to the table.

As he moved in perfect harmony, Y/N felt a sense of bliss wash over her, her body trembling with pleasure as she surrendered herself completely to the moment. With each thrust, she felt herself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, her senses heightened by the raw intensity of their desire.

“You’re such a good girl, -”

She tightened around him, her nails digging into the wooden surface of the table. His groans became louder with each snap of his hips to her welcoming heat and Y/N could not help but bite down her lip, painful yelp filled with the backdrop of pleasure leaving her mouth as he continued to hit all the right places.

A primal growl resonated as he buried himself deeper inside her, feeling her walls clenching around him, urging him closer to the brink.

With one final thrust, they both reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies exploding in a symphony of ecstasy. Y/N’s back arched, a guttural cry escaping her lips as waves of orgasm washed over her, engulfing her in a whirlwind of bliss.

He groaned loudly, his release echoing hers as he emptied himself inside of her, their connection deepening with each pulsating wave of pleasure.

As they slowly came down from their euphoric high, Y/N’s breaths came in ragged gasps, her body still trembling with aftershocks. She turned to him, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, a lazy smile playing on her lips.

“A bath, shall we?” Y/N’s head twitched to the side, thinking why this trivial sentence sounds way too familiar. Shaking it off she pressed her damaged lips to his with a pleased hum as agreement.

Time seemed to slow as Yoongi lunged forward, reaching out to stop her, but it was too late. The blade sliced through her skin, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as pain seared through her, her vision swimming with darkness. She felt Yoongi’s hands on her throat, his panicked voice calling out, but it was too distant, as if coming from a faraway place.

“Seokjin?!!” he shouted; his voice raw with desperation.

He cradled her in his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed in the corridor as others rushed forward to reach the doctor, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. But amidst the chaos, Y/N’s empty gaze remained fixed on Yoongi, her eyes still burning with flames.

“Stay with me, baby. Don’t leave me please.” Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his lips to her forehead, willing her to hold on, to fight for her life.

But as he looked down at her pale, lifeless face, he knew that the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges. For now, all he could do was pray that she would survive, that she would find the strength to forgive him, and that they would someday find their way back to each other.

“Please don’t take her away from me, my Lord.”

Yoongi prayed that it was not too late to save her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

One thing remained clear in Yoongi’s mind: he would do whatever it took to save her, to make amends for the pain he had caused, and to prove to her that his love was worth fighting for.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for forgiveness. He begged for her to forgive him, to give him another chance to make things right. No more secrets, no more lies. No more pain. He was willing to rebuild their relationship from the ground up, on a foundation of honesty and trust.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the tang of fear, thickening the air with a palpable sense of impending doom. He ripped one of his sleeves a while ago, pressing the roughly crumpled fabric to the wound, praying that Seokjin is near, or that anyone heard him scream frantically enough to relay the message.

“You can’t leave me, baby, please. I promise we’ll work everything through.”

He kissed and caressed her hair with his free hand that was covered with her blood. Tears blurred his vision as his hand trembled at the sight. A blood he never wished to shed.

“Please, Y/N, you have to forgive me.” The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with the weight of his mistakes.

“Fucking goddammit, Yoongi!”

Y/N set the plates on the table, pouring the hot water into a kettle of green tea as he joined her at the table. They exchanged smiles, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the kitchen and the windows providing a magnificent view of the sea.

“I’ve been thinking, -” she said with a smile on her face while she set the seaweed salad down in front of him. He hummed in response, reading today’s paper.

“About opening my own practice.” He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“Thought you wanted to wait until the babe arrives?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at his words, her mind spinning with confusion. A baby? What baby was he talking about? Her mouth seemed to work without the help of her mind. As if she was a mere observer, not the main character.

“I know. I know. But I can’t shake the feeling that now is the right time. I want to create something for myself too. Daddy's successful, why shouldn’t Mommy be successful too?”

Lifting his eyes from the paper, he reached across the table, his touch gentle as he took her hand.

“Opening a practice is a big step, especially with a baby on the way.”

She knew this was going to be hard, but she was determined to build herself a name too. And help those who can’t help themselves.

But as she looked into his eyes, she noticed a subtle yet unmistakable change. A faint scar marred his eye, tracing from above his eyebrow to his cheekbone. Y/N was certain it wasn’t there before.

“How are you feeling? Can you feel the babe moving?” he asked, his eyes softening with concern as he gently brushed his hand against her stomach. Y/N gulped down, trying to shush all the thoughts that echoed in her mind.

“He’s been active today,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly as she placed her hand on her growing stomach, feeling the gentle flutter of movement beneath her palm. “I think he’s just as eager to be with his Daddy as I am.”

The man’s eyes widened with surprise at her words, his expression softening with emotion as he took in the sight of her. And in that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the room with hues of pink and gold, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her.

She cradled her swollen belly with tenderness, feeling the gentle flutter of life within. The promise of new beginnings and the joy of impending motherhood enveloped her in a cocoon of love and warmth.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. Something doesn’t feel right, and she can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding.

The door slammed wide open, Seokjin’s voice was soar, his breathing frantic from running. His expression grave as he took in the scene before him.

Seokjin wasted no time, his training kicking in as he rushed to Y/N’s side, his hands moving with practised efficiency as he assessed her injuries. Yoongi watched in silent desperation, his heart pounding in his chest as he prayed for Seokjin to work his magic and save the woman he loved.

“You have to save her, Seokjin-hyung,-” Seokjin never saw Yoongi in a condition like this since his parents died and never thought he would ever again.

“She would lose too much blood if we attempted to transport her now, but I need my shit, Yoongi,” his tone was urgent and commanding as he took charge of the situation. “Get me my briefcase, hot water and towels, -”

As Seokjin worked to staunch the flow of blood, Yoongi hovered nearby, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face as he whispered words of encouragement and prayer. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, of facing a future without her by his side.

“Yoongi, snap out of it and get it! I left it in the sunroom,” Seokjin left in hurry once a distant cry of his leader echoed at the first floor. He was sure that everyone outside of the celebrating banquet room heard it.

Yoongi nodded in a mixture of desperation and determination, scrambling to his feet as he absorbed Seokjin’s instructions. His mind raced as he mentally registered each item Seokjin urgently needed. In the tumultuous atmosphere, Yoongi rushed out of the room, his steps echoing in the corridor as he desperately sought the necessary supplies.

“What happened Yoongi?” Hoseok rose from his seat in the sunroom walking towards the dishevelled state of his friend. Yoongi did not even register him as he frantically searched for Seokjin’s briefcase. Reaching out to get it with his bloodied hands his ears miffily caught the younger Miss Wang’s anxious voice.

“Whose blood it is, Kkangpae Min?”

She couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was amiss. The scar on his eye screamed volumes to her, yet her mind could not put things together and decipher what it wanted to tell her and why she does not recall that her husband had a scar like that. Where would a businessman come to get hurt this way? She couldn’t shake the feeling that her husband’s explanation didn’t quite add up. She stared at the scar on his face, her thoughts swirling with confusion and doubt.

“What do you mean, baby? I’ve always had it.” Said he, setting down the hat from his head, running his finger through the dark locks, pushing them back from his face.

But try as she might, she couldn’t recall ever seeing that scar before. It wasn’t just a minor detail that had slipped her mind—it was as if her memory had been rewritten, leaving her with a sense of disorientation and unease.

“Always?” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled to comprehend what he was saying. Following him to his office where he lifted the briefcase to put it on the table while she slumped down next to the unlit fireplace.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the scar as if searching for answers.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of her confusion, and she did not understand why the scar evokes so many feelings inside her, yet his touch calms her.

“You traced it with your fingers when we first made love, baby, I can assure it has been there for a very long time.” She tried to grasp onto the fragments of memory, to recall the moment he spoke of, but it eluded her like a fading dream.

“I want to remember,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the tumult of her thoughts, “it feels so... significant.”

“Memories can be elusive, maybe it’s because of the accident?” he murmured, his voice soothing.

“An accident?”

“You are fucking lucky she did it with a stupid letter opener, it seems like it did not manage to do as big of a damage as a regular knife would.”

His brow furrowed with concentration, his hands moving with practised precision as he worked to staunch the flow of blood and assess the extent of her injuries.

“She scraped over her artery, not much but enough to slow the blood flow to her brain. I need to close the wound as soon as possible.”

Seokjin’s words hit Yoongi like a physical blow, sending a shiver of fear down his spine. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him as he realised the severity of Y/N’s injuries. The thought of her life hanging in the balance sent a wave of panic coursing through him, but he forced himself to focus, to push aside his fear and uncertainty.

“She did not reach her windpipe, nor did she cut herself deep enough, thank God for that Yoongi.”

He never fell out of God’s grace, and he hoped he wouldn't do so now. His hand intertwined with hers as he whispered words of love and hope into the stillness of the room. Minutes felt like hours as the doctor carefully disinfected the wound to reduce the risk of infection. The stitches are precise.

“Why is she not awake, Seokjin?” He asked carefully, awaiting the worst. Seokjin’s expression softened briefly as he glanced up from his work, meeting Yoongi’s anxious gaze with empathy in his eyes.

“She lost quite some blood, Yoongi.”

“I understand-,” Yoongi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he squeezed Y/N’s hand tighter, as if to anchor her to this world. “But she’s strong, Seokjin-hyung. She’ll pull through this, right?” Seokjin offered a small nod of agreement, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and determination. If only he had been more attentive, more willing to listen and understand, perhaps they wouldn’t be facing this crisis now.

“I should have done more,” Yoongi murmured, his voice heavy with remorse.

“You know, this would probably never happen if you would let me ease her mind in the beginning.”

The warm water cascaded over their bodies. He was holding her and her naked body in a tight embrace. The flickering candlelight casting a soft glow upon their entwined forms.

His hands roamed over Y/N’s skin, she arched her back in response, a soft moan escaping her lips as he trailed kisses along her neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His touch sends shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins.

She moaned softly against his lips as he teased her, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her whole body. Y/N reached between them, her hand finding his manhood, firm and ready for her touch. She grasped him firmly, feeling his arousal pulse beneath her fingertips.

“Fuck, love, —” he moaned loudly, a raw expression of his pleasure and desire as she brought him closer to the edge. She followed the rhythm he settled for, stroking his manhood.

Y/N first felt the warm stream of his ejaculation before she heard his throaty moan of her name and then she could feel his fingers deeper in her than before, moving faster until she saw the stars too.

So, is this how love feels?

Her fingers slowly traced the faded scar from a wound on her neck she couldn’t quite remember when it appeared on her body nor how it came to that. Closing her eyes, trying to recall and dig up any memory that would help her and ease her confusion turned out unfruitful.

“Good night, Dove-” Her eyes snapped open hearing his voice. She felt his lips press into her cheek, one hand caressing her belly. Y/N’s lenses took in the change of surroundings. She’s in bed that feels like home as if she was sleeping in it for years. Clutching the silk duvet she looked at him. The scar is still present on his face, calling to her. He looked so calm, at peace, falling asleep with a smile on his face.

Dove. The word echoed in her mind, stirring up fragmented memories that danced just beyond her reach. It was a name she couldn’t recall ever being called before, yet it felt right, as if it belonged to her in ways she couldn’t comprehend.

Everything around her felt right yet so wrong at the same time. The soft crackling of fire, soft wind blowing outside and the symphony the crickets created. It was nighttime. A day went by, and she could not remember what she was doing for all the hours after breakfast.

Her hands slipped down to caress her belly with a stranger inside. Her hand slowly moved to cover his. Holding it felt somehow right, even though her mind was saying otherwise. The only thing that was wrong yet felt right was her helplessness, her indecisiveness, her unawareness. She was a prisoner of her mind and her body. This life felt surreal, sweet, and endearing, musing to her to live it without doubt. But doubts she had. Is this what her mind thought life would be? The more she thought about it, the more she felt like this projection is what her sound heart and mind longed for. This is what she wanted.

Love, happiness, and-

“Why do you call me that?” She asked suddenly, leaving her mind to speak to him. His eyes fluttered open to lovingly gaze at her. He pulled his hand from under hers, gently took it to intertwine their fingers together.

“What do you mean?” with a gentle smile playing on his lips, he whispered. The flickering firelight danced across their intertwined hands, casting shadows that seemed to whisper untold stories and shared moments.

“Why do you call me Dove?” She searched his eyes for answers.

“Because you brought peace to my heart, -”

“-and my world.”

His gaze held hers, a depth of emotion swirling within those familiar eyes that she couldn’t quite place. The doubts and uncertainties that had clouded her mind seemed to fade away, replaced by a deep sense of trust and acceptance. At least, for now.

“Are you satisfied now? Hm?” The widow’s steps and words were aimed at the man she loathes. Her brother is laying at the sanitorium’s metal beds, a fractured skull and internal bleeding to be treated. They fear he might have been admitted far too late as Doctor Kim’s priority was the lady of the house.

They are to relieve pressure on the brain caused by the fractured skull and to stop the internal bleeding. They did not tell his older sister anything else. It was a horrific picture of her brother’s head being immobilised to prevent further injury, a trepanation has been done to prevent severe head trauma, his face swollen from all the hits he took from his leader. All for the Kkangpae’s selfish act of desire for his loved one to obey.

She stopped in front of the man whose face was puffy and eyes bright red from all the tears he shredded for his loved one. Now he cries. Daiyu’s mind could not understand the notorious man Min Yoongi is. Nor any of the men of Min Clan. Their women are weeping, yet the reason is not what they assume it is. They weep because of them. Because of the pain they brought upon them. The pain they’ll never admit that ever was there.

“You ruined us all, Yoongi.” No honorific for a man that has done so much damage to her family. He stood there without looking her in the eye and quietly apologising for his doings.

“Missus Park,-” he attempted to raise his voice above the line so she could hear him.

“My mother gave me up to your clan during the first war and after years I made my peace with that, -” he listened to her, standing there like he was the victim.

“Yet you were cocky enough to ask for more?” Her words are laced with bitterness and anger, fuelled by the injustice she feels at the hands of the Min Clan. She vows to never forgive him for the harm he has wrought.

“And yet again my mother gave up Y/N too. But that’s not quite right, hm?” The widow’s heart remains hardened, her anger burning bright as she refuses to grant him absolution for his sins.

“You think you and the rest of your hooligans are clever? Abducting women and forcing them to elope.” A heavy silence descends upon the room, broken only by the muffled sounds of distant footsteps echoing through the hotel corridor. Yoongi is letting her relieve her anger on him. He deserves it.

“Missus Park, I think you’d rather be at your brother’s side, don’t you think?” A smooth low voice echoes right beside her. She turned slowly to face the source, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Standing there, with an air of quiet confidence, was a man she recognized all too well – Kim Taehyung, a trusted associate of the Min Clan.

“You.” She said with venom in her voice. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she regarded him, his presence only adding to the tension in the room. She knew all too well the power and influence he wielded, and she braced herself for whatever he had to say.

“Hyung, go inside, she might wake up any moment now. She’s been through a lot; you should make sure she’s taken care of-”

“How dare you say that!” Daiyu’s voice got an octave higher when she accused the consigliere.

“This is not the time or place for your interference, Missus Park.” Taehyung said, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of warning.

“We all have been through a lot because of you!”

“What on earth you did to make Xiaoli love you so blindly, -” Taehyung’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but there was a hardness in his eyes that belied his demeanour. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. But she refused to be intimidated. She knew that Taehyung’s influence over Xiaoli was a dangerous one and her mind was bothered numerous times.

“Your mother was not as smart as the clans perceived her after all.�� The widow’s jaw clenched with anger as Kim Taehyung’s words cut through the air.

“You dare speak of my mother?” she spat, her voice trembling with fury. “You and your ilk have no right to claim any semblance of intelligence. You prey on the vulnerable and the innocent, twisting their minds and hearts to serve your own selfish desires-”

“The nature of our private affairs are not something you have the right to be noisy about, Missus Park.” His tone dripped with disdain as he stared at the widow with cold indifference. Daiyu’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to contain her anger.

“You and your clan have caused nothing but pain and suffering, and yet you have the audacity to stand here and lecture me about privacy?”

Taehyung’s smirk widened; his eyes gleaming with amusement at her outburst. He took another step closer, invading her personal space with an air of arrogance that made her skin crawl.

“We operate by our own rules, Missus Park,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And if you value your brother’s life, you will do well to remember that.”

“This is far from being over. Once my brother recovers, I’m taking them both and Xiaoli to America.”

“Is that so?” he replied, his tone laced with scepticism. Taehyung’s expression darkened at her words, his jaw tightening with barely concealed rage. For a moment, it seemed as though he might lash out in anger, but then he seemed to regain control of himself, his features smoothing into a mask of icy calm.

“You’re welcome to take your brother and go to the far far land but my fiancé and Buin will stay put, end of the discussion, Missus Park. Or do I need to take any precautions — how’s your son?”

She knew all too well the lengths to which the Min Clan would go to protect their interests, and the thought of her son being caught in the crossfire filled her with a sense of dread.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she spat, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. “You wouldn’t lay a hand on my son.”

“Oh, of course not, we’re not child-killers, Missus Park. But you wouldn’t want me to make sure they take him away as you’re clearly unstable to raise a child.” Taehyung’s smirk returned, his eyes glinting with malice as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear.

“You all are fucking monsters.” She spit his way and with a flick of fear in her eyes she turns away to storm down the hallways back to the waiting car that will take her to the sanitorium.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, lending an eerie atmosphere to the hushed conversation that unfolded.

Yoongi’s brow furrowed with concern as he glanced at Y/N, her delicate features softened in sleep. He was holding her small hand in his large one, refusing to leave her side.

“Hyung, do you think she could be pregnant?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, mindful of the gravity of their discussion. Seokjin and Namjoon exchanged a solemn glance, their expressions reflecting the weight of Yoongi’s question.

The older man did not want his brother to be in more pain than he already is.

“It’s certainly possible, —” Seokjin replied softly, his gaze shifting to Y/N’s still form.

“—yet, it’s way too soon to tell.” Namjoon nodded in agreement, his eyes lingering on Y/N with a mixture of concern and hope.

“Her health and recovery must remain our primary focus.”

A sense of apprehension settled over Yoongi as the reality of their situation sank in. The prospect of impending fatherhood filled him with both excitement and trepidation. His hand possessively slipped under the duvet, caressing her belly with a tender touch. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her hand, a silent vow of love and protection that lingered in the quiet of the room.

He was determined to never fail her again.

Y/N found herself drifting into a state of peaceful slumber, the gentle rhythm of his breathing lulling her into a sense of security she hadn’t known before. A feeling that was for a long time foreign.

Yet, even as sleep beckoned her towards its welcoming arms, a nagging sense of unease lingered at the edge of her consciousness. It was as though a faint whisper echoed through the chambers of her mind.

Images flickered in the darkness, fleeting glimpses of faces and places she couldn’t quite place. It was like trying to catch hold of smoke, the harder she tried to grasp onto them, the more they slipped through her fingers.

And then, amidst the chaos of her mind, a single image emerged from the depths of her subconscious—a flash of silver amidst the darkness, a glimmer of recognition that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins.

As Y/N’s dreams began to swirl with fragments of memories she herself did not recognise, she found herself waking with a start, the remnants of a haunting nightmare still lingering in her mind. The boundaries between reality and illusion blurring in the hazy mist of slumber. Beside her, the man stirred, his gaze filled with concern as he noticed the tension in her features.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft yet filled with a quiet intensity that spoke volumes.

“It was just a bad dream-” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression understanding as he reached out to gently brush away the stray strands of hair that clung to her face. “Nightmares are just the mind’s way of processing the chaos of the world,” he said, his words carrying a weight of wisdom born from years of introspection. “-the unwanted reality we dare not to accept,” he slowly caressed her cheek.

“Sometimes, facing our fears head-on is the only way to conquer them.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the lingering unease that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. “It feels like the nightmares are trying to tell me something, -”

“Perhaps they are,” he said, his tone tinged with a hint of curiosity.

“What do you mean?” She asked, shrinking her eyebrows.

“Wake up, little Dove.”

“I don’t want to wake up, Yoongi. I’m wide awake.” Her words proceeded her mind once she uttered them.

Yoongi. Only now she realised that she never uttered his name out loud this whole time. His name is Yoongi. She recognises him now, but this man is not the one she married.

This man is the one the other will never be.

“Are you?”

The warmth of the bed was replaced by the sterile chill of a sanitised room, the soft breathing beside her now replaced by the distant sound of metal clinking against itself.

Her eyes fluttered open to meet the gaze of Seokjin, the doctor who had been overseeing her treatment. There was a sombreness in his eyes, a depth of understanding that spoke of the gravity of the situation.

Her initial reaction wasn’t one of shock or panic but rather a stoic silence whilst she looked around the room. Just yet. That was giving the young doctor a hunch that her mind is stronger than anyone ever thought it is.

“Y/N,-” he began, his voice gentle yet firm. He carefully placed the file he was holding in his hand back to the nightstand next to the bed. Seokjin didn’t want to trigger her. He needed her to be as calm as possible.

“What did you do to me?” A hoarse broken voice laced with pain echoed in the room. It was barely heard and the immense pain on the side of her throat got her head spinning. The sight of Yoongi’s rage-filled eyes flooded back to her mind, the desperation of her attempt to protect Kai from his wrath. She instinctively reached up to touch the bandages that now adorned her neck, wincing.

“You mean, what did you do to yourself?” he replied softly, his words heavy with implication.

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her as the reality of her actions sunk in. The realisation that she had tried to take her own life filled her with a sense of profound despair.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “There was no stopping him. He would have—” it was hard to swallow, it was harder to breathe, painful to speak and just like countless times before, it was harder to see through the tears.

“Is Kai alive?” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. Seokjin met her gaze with a solemn nod, Y/N felt a sliver of hope pierce through the darkness that had consumed her. Perhaps, amidst the chaos, there was still a chance for redemption, for healing.

“He’s going to make a full recovery in a few weeks,” he said softly, his words a balm to her wounded spirit.

“But you need to heal too—”

Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded in silent agreement, the weight of her own pain pressing down upon her like a burden too heavy to bear.

“Little birdie sang that you promised to make a snowman with a certain little man.” The little boy was a reminder of the love and happiness that still existed in her life despite the darkness that surrounded her.

“Can I sleep some more?”

Before she managed to drift back to sleep, Seokjin quietly went about checking her vitals, his experienced hands moving with precision as he monitored her condition. With a deep sigh, he made a mental note to bring her iron pills to help replenish the blood she had lost. Looking at her bandaged neck, he couldn’t shake the feeling that her academic background would totally exclude the possibility that this petite woman wouldn’t know how to kill herself with that one swipe of a letter opener if she aimed correctly. And that made Seokjin suspicious of the young Buin’s intentions and endorsed him into believing that after all, the girl still has some fire to burn and will to live. She just needed good guidance, he thought.

“How is she?” The Kkangpae rushed to approach him once he closed the door to his office. It was very hard to convince him to leave her side. She was asleep for a while and Seokjin did not advise on waking her up anytime soon until she woke up herself. With conflicting emotions, he turned to face his dishevelled form.

“She wants to sleep some more, otherwise she’s stable, but—” Seokjin replied, his voice tinged with weariness.

“—she’s lost a significant amount of blood so I’m going to have her take iron pills—”

The Kkangpae’s brow furrowed in worry, his gaze flickering back to the closed door behind Seokjin.

“I want to see her,” he said, his voice tinged with desperation when he interrupted his Hyung.

Seokjin hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks of disturbing Y/N’s rest against the Kkangpae’s obvious concern. Ultimately, he decided to trust his instincts.

“We need to talk first, Yoongi.” Seokjin said firmly. The Kkangpae nodded reluctantly, his shoulders slumping with defeat. Not happy with Seokjin’s stalling. Nonetheless, Seokjin could sense the tension radiating off him, the weight of guilt and fear pressing down on his shoulders.

“You pushed her way too far, Yoongi—” the doctor begins, slumping down to the low cushion sofa looking at the faded yet evident scraped puddle of blood on the wooden floor.

“I want you to consider me helping her.”

Yoongi’s blood ran cold at the mention of such a drastic measure to be taken. He knew of the doctor practising such methods and he knew of them being successful once two living and walking examples were among them.

“We’ve talked about this Seokjin, and I declined your offer. She doesn’t need it.”

Seokjin’s gaze hardened, his eyes locking onto Yoongi's with unwavering intensity.

“Are you ever going to accept the truth Yoongi? She is suffering here!” Yoongi’s jaw tightened; his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to control the rising tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He knew that Seokjin was right. But he was also still the selfish man he was before.

“She’s my responsibility, Seokjin,” Yoongi said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll find another way to help her. I won’t let you do this to her unless it will be absolutely necessary.”

Seokjin’s expression softened, a flicker of empathy shining in his eyes as he reached out to place a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I know you love her, Yoongi,” he said gently. “But sometimes, loving means making difficult decisions for the greater good.”

Yoongi couldn’t continue to bury his head in the sand, hoping that Y/N’s pain and suffering would simply disappear on its own and perhaps the moment she heals she’ll be capable of falling in love with him just like he did.

“Just how long can you go without your love being reciprocated?”

Seokjin’s question echoed in Yoongi’s mind, a painful reminder of the unrequited love that had tormented him for so long.

He couldn’t bear the thought of robbing her of her identity, of erasing the very essence of who she was. The essence he loved her for. But now, faced with the prospect of losing her altogether, Yoongi couldn’t bear the thought of erasing the very qualities that had drawn him to her in the first place. He loved her for her fire, for the strength and passion that burned within her.

He wanted to keep her flame alive.

How ironic, isn’t it?

Waking up again felt even worse than the first time. The dizziness remained and a strong feeling of fatigue only reminded her of what she had called upon herself. The bed seemed to mock her with its warmth, the pillow unyielding beneath her. It was a bit firmer for some reason and a heartbeat echoed in her ears.

Her hand went up the sheets until another hand fell upon hers. The bed was not warmer, the pillow was not firmer and the heartbeat she hears isn’t hers. The fingers, adorned with cold metal rings that now laid on top of her smaller hand squeezed hers in firmer grip. What was supposed to be a comforting touch seemed like shackles to Y/N.

Y/N gulped down, trying to not slap his hand right away just like she wanted to. The pit in her stomach was larger and larger. She did not know what to expect from him. Is he going to punish her? Is he mad? Does he have the right to be mad? Of course not. But for what is to come, Y/N would rather him mad and angry.

“I am so sorry, little Dove.”

His voice shattered her thoughts and Y/N’s eyes stayed wide open, just staring up front. He was holding her laying form on his chest and she could feel his other hand caressing her back. He held her way too close, as if trying to mend what he had broken with his other hand.

“I thought I was going lose you,” he choked out, confessing, his grip tightening. She pulled away with swift movement, sitting up to confront him and look down on his half laying form.

“You’ve almost killed him, and the only remorse you feel is for me?!”

Her weak voice trembled with a mixture of anger and disbelief, her eyes flashing with hurt as she confronted him. Her vocal cords were not as damaged, yet her throat was too sore for her voice to be heard fully. The weight of his actions hung heavy in the air, suffocating the space between them. Guilt etching lines on his face as he met her accusing gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

“The words you said before, back home, got to me, and I lost control. I did not mean for any of this, Dove. I am genuinely sorry,” he finally managed to utter, his voice thick with regret. His eyes pleaded for her understanding, begging for forgiveness in the face of his unforgivable mistake.

Despite the hurt and betrayal, she felt a small part of her longed to believe him, to believe that he was capable of change. But she knew very well that the Yoongi starring in her dreams is a completely different man. The scars of his actions ran deep, leaving behind wounds that could not be easily healed.

“You crushed his skull, Yoongi,” she said with a stone-cold anger, her voice laced with an icy fury that sent shivers down his spine. He messed up.

“And I shall do everything to redeem myself. I love you, baby-” He knew he had to make things right, to earn back her trust and repair the damage he had done. How could he earn something back if it was never there?

“You don’t love me, Yoongi. You love the idea of having me under your control!” Each syllable drips with bitterness and resentment. He lifted himself on his elbows to look closer to her teary eyes. They reflected so much pain and sorrow.

“You know that’s not true. I’ll do anything for you.” He insisted, his voice trembling with sincerity as he reached out to gently wipe away her tears whence she slapped his hand off.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she spat, her voice sharp with venom. She stood up, putting distance between them, but he refused to let her go. The weight of his actions had left her wounded, her trust shattered beyond repair. She could no longer bear the false promises and empty gestures that had become their relationship.

“Did I have to reach the edge of despair for you to wake up?” Her words cut through the silence, echoing with the pain of her betrayal.

“I was scared of losing you,” His voice trailed off, the weight of her accusation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He struggled to find the right words to express the depth of his fear and regret, knowing that no apology could ever fully erase the pain he had caused.

“You never had me to begin with.” She said, her voice filled with finality. But he wouldn’t accept it. The ancient melody, the notes that echoed in the silence, screamed, full of wounds that will never heal.

“Promise me you’ll never do that again, love. Hurt me, not yourself.” He pleaded again trying to reach her, his voice breaking with emotion as he reached out to grasp her trembling hands, hoping against hope that she would find it in her heart to forgive him, to give their love another chance. He cannot let her words get to him again.

“Again?!-” she retorted, her voice laced with disbelief and incredulity. She wondered if he’s even worthy of her pretending. Her hands went to hit his chest, pushing him away from her.

“-You think there’s going to be fucking again, Yoongi?!” Her words were sharp, cutting through the air with the finality of a verdict. A flying cup shattered right next to his head. He did not even register when she took it into her hands and threw it at him, missing him just by a few inches.

“I’ll do anything to have you by my side. Dove, I beg you.” Min Yoongi pleaded, his voice breaking again. On his knees, Min Yoongi bowed his head in remorse.

“You’ll never change, Yoongi.” The weight of disappointment was evident in her words as she turned away, unable to bear the sight of him at that moment. But the selfish side of Min Yoongi wouldn’t let her do that.

He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her close, not leaving an inch between them.

“I can’t fucking live without you-” his voice cracked, raw with desperation and longing, tears welled up in his eyes, begging for her to understand the depth of his love.

“-without those arms,” he continued, his voice softening with the memories of their intimacy.

“-full cheeks-”

“-lips,” he whispered, each word a plea for her to see the love and longing in his eyes.

“Yoongi, I cannot do this anymore.”

Yoongi felt his heart drop like a heavy weight in his chest. He collapsed onto his knees before her, his arms wrapping desperately around her delicate frame.

“I’m so tired of the pain in my chest,” she admitted, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

He had pushed her too far, hurt her too deeply, and now he stood on the precipice of losing her forever.

“I was ready to die—”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Dove” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the tumult of emotions raging inside him. Y/N glanced at his trembling hands and thought about his words for a second. Contemplating his sincerity.

It was his eyes this time that cried. The endearment sounds different coming from this version of Yoongi. It felt so distant from the Yoongi she had once met in her dreams. The man he’ll never be.

“I can make it better. Just let me in and I’ll show you how happy we can be.” Min Yoongi promised, his eyes filled with sincerity. He’s haunted by the knowledge that he just might have let the love of his life slip through his fingers.

“You’re really that delusional, aren’t you?” Y/N questioned; her voice laced with disbelief.

“Aren’t we all? -” Min Yoongi replied, his voice tinged with resignation. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, give me another chance.”

Y/N remained silent; her expression guarded as she wrestled with her own emotions. Her mind swirled with thoughts and even when she tried to say something, an inaudible cry of frustration, sadness and anger was heard.

Min Yoongi slumped down to his knees, holding her small hands in his. Looking at her with hope in his eyes.

“I beg you.” He pleaded once more for her forgiveness. His eyes searched hers, hoping to find even the smallest glimmer of something that would tell him that he’ll manage to woo her right this time.

If she could walk away, she would do it right now. But this isn’t her que to leave the scene. Just not yet. Be patient.

“Your beloved God shall decide upon your fate, Yoongi-”

“Upon the fate of us,” she continued to preach.

“What do you—”

“Should God spare his life, I’ll consider forgiving you,” she interrupted, her voice firm.

“Then let it be so,” he said, his voice filled with determination and hope.

Y/N was clutching the delicate cup of tea in her hands whilst her eyes remained fixed on the outside surroundings of the hotel. Riling herself up was something she was told to seize. Yet, there she stands, ready to run outside any minute.

“He’s trying, you know,” Xiaoli said softly, following Y/N’s gaze. “In his own way, he’s trying to make things right.”

The sight was both heart-warming and heartbreaking, a glimpse of the man he used to be and the man he could still be.

“Well, he certainly knows how to evoke emotional damage.” Y/N sighed, her eyes lingering on Yoongi’s figure adorned in a warm coat. His hands were covered with leather gloves that protected him from the frostbiting cold snow.

“People can heal.”

“Some wounds run too deep to heal completely,” Y/N glanced at Xiaoli, her eyes searching for understanding that she will most likely never find.

“Love has a way of healing even the deepest wounds-” Xiaoli reached out, placing a comforting hand on Y/N’s arm. Y/N scoffed, her eyes never leaving the Kkangpae and her little brother Bo Cheng. Building a snowman. It was a picture of normalcy; his current actions were mocking the magnitude of his power and acts he performed to obtain it.

Min Yoongi was on top of the world. One day, the prime minister of Japan expresses his gratitude for clearing the Yakuza clan and unburdening the country, the other, he’s powerless when the woman he chose to be his companion throughout life, and what’s after, paints the floor red with her own blood.

“Relax, Y/N Buin.” The other voice echoed from the other side of the room. She was clutching the cup way too tightly, making her knuckles go white. She hated when people called her Buin. It did not evoke power in Y/N, rather the opposite. It was a reminder that she is the lady of this clan because Yoongi forced her into this position.

The room felt heavy with tension, each word from Xiaoli pulling at the raw edges of her emotions. The far away sound of Bo Cheng’s laughter when he threw a large snowball Yoongi’s way.

“You did not see him that day,” Y/N finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with pain and regret.

“The darkness in him consumed him.”

“I saw him after that—”

“-He’s trying to make amends now,” Xiaoli said gently, her hand tightening around Y/N’s.

“I wish I could believe that he’s capable of change, Xiaoli.” The rustle of newspaper reminded her of the other presence in the room. The consigliere silently worked at the table, overviewing contracts Y/N daren’t deem anything but legal. The other man present in the room was now folding the said newspapers, standing up and walking in the direction where Xiaoli and Y/N stood by the large window.

“Never in my entire fucking life I have thought that I will see Min fucking Yoongi build a snowman-” Hoseok spat out jokingly, his disbelief evident. There was even a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Y/N’s grip on the teacup relaxed slightly, but her gaze remained fixed on the scene outside the whole time.

“He just might be able to change, we all do-” he began, leaning down to her height level, admiring the velvet rose pins holding her hair in an updo.

“for lov—”

“Jiě jie! Have you seen the snowman we built?!” Y/N’s eyes brightened at the sound of Bo Cheng’s voice. The change in her expression was immediate.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yes, dear. It’s marvellous.”

Bo Cheng’s delighted laughter echoed across the snowy expanse as he ran back outside to Yoongi, pulling him towards their creation.

Hoseok, witnessing Y/N’s transformation, teased, “See? He’s not all bad. Look at how happy he makes your brother.”

“One snowman doesn’t erase the past, Hoseok.”

Hoseok laughed, conceding with a nod, “Fair enough, Y/N. Fair enough.”

“What about two?” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. But the daunting feeling never left her as she watched him and her little brother.

“Is he asleep?” She asked quietly, trying to restrain her voice as much as possible. The best was not to overload the muscles of her throat at all. She talks very little but thinks a lot. That certainly is not the best situation for someone like Y/N.

Her mind takes her to places. To those she visited and those she is yet to see. The “Yoongi” comes back to her in dreams from time to time, and Y/N’s mind cannot grapple with why it is happening so. What is the cosmos trying to show her?

“He is usually stubborn to go to sleep if it’s not for Ma reading him a story-” The younger sister began to rely upon her never-ending gratitude to her beloved leader. Safe to say, she shifted her loyalty without having to pledge it first.

“-thank you, Kkangpae Min, you’re marvellous with children.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Xiaoli. Not like she was cautious to not get caught doing so, Xiaoli did see her doing so, poking her elbow to express her gratitude to Yoongi too.

“What?” Y/N asked her. Xiaoli was easier to manipulate, easier to forget, and easier to forgive. Y/N wasn’t, she would let him feel the chasm in between them before she made her move to wrap him around her finger.

“Aren’t you grateful for such a caring husband?”

The loud silence echoed in the room, making everyone uncomfortable. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed very loudly. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Xiaoli-” Y/N has begun only for Xiaoli to not let her speak.

“No, Y/N, he’s at least trying. You never did-” her younger sister interrupted her instantly. Y/N looked into Yoongi’s eyes, for the first time since he crossed the door threshold after he put Bo Cheng to bed. She did not know what she was looking for, yet she expected him to speak up.

“Xiaoli-” she attempted again but this time it was Yoongi who interrupted her.

“Mrs. Wang, I appreciate your concern, but me and Y/N shall resolve our marital issues without your guidance.”

Yoongi’s voice was calm, but there was a firmness to it that made the room go still. Xiaoli’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by his assertiveness. Y/N’s gaze locked onto his again, searching for a hint of what he was thinking. She raised her brows at his diplomatic words to her sister.

Not wanting to admit it, Y/N enjoyed the guilt in Xiaoli’s eyes. Yet it was Yoongi she apologised to and not her.

“Well, I would say that is our cue to leave those two alone, love,” Taehyung murmured all the way from across the office where he was still seated. The room was quiet enough that everyone heard him.

“I meant well.” Was the last thing Y/N heard before Xiaoli and Taehyung got too far away for them to hear anything.

Yoongi took a deep breath, breaking the silence.

“She can be a lot, the sister of yours.”

Y/N chuckled softly, wiping away a stray tear. They sat down by the fireplace.

They always do. He reached out, taking her hand.

“How was your day?” He said gently. For the past week, she wasn’t avoiding him - she was avoiding the talks he wished to have with her to reconcile.

“Jimin told me you went to visit Kai today.”

Y/N’s eyes widened momentarily before she looked away, her grip tightening around the fabric of her dress. Yoongi’s thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, a gesture meant to be comforting, but it only intensified the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

“Seokjin says he is getting better slowly.” She hesitated to talk, biting her lip. Kai was a sore subject between them, yet Yoongi realised that’s where his only chance of a life with her lay. He agreed upon her terms of forgiving him, seizing any opportunity to keep her by his side.

“And so do you, but I would love to hear that from you, Dove.”

“It still pains me to talk, and I get dizzy if I stand for too long.” Yoongi’s heart ached as he heard her soft confession. He knew all too well what her condition was and that he was the sole reason for it.

There wasn’t a day, an hour where he did not think about what he could have done differently with her. Maybe if he told her the truth at the very beginning, she’d let him woo her. But he’ll never know that. The damage was done, and he’ll have to build their relationship from scratch.

Yoongi hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching Y/N’s face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

“I’m sorry, Dove,” he whispered, his voice filled with regret. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Y/N gave him a weak smile. It wasn’t a warm smile, it was not genuine, and it certainly did not reflect the emotion Y/N was holding in.

“Then why lead me to this state?” Yoongi’s eyes filled with guilt, his grip on her hand tightening. For the first time, Yoongi rethought all the decisions he had made since he settled his eyes on her. There wasn’t a day he did not think about what would be different if he would’ve been honest with her. Would she fall in love with him?

“We don’t have time for that, Hyung.” The voice of his right-hand man echoed in his mind. He listened to him, and here they are. Broken.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Dove—” Yoongi’s tears threatened to fall as he watched the woman he loved struggle with the pain he had caused.

“And that there is way too much damage done, but I burn for you, and I always will.” She only listened to him, there was no need to answer.

“I will wait for you until you are ready.”

“We had a deal.” Her eyes slowly flattered open upon hearing his low baritone voice. She gulped down carefully, wincing at the still evident pain in her throat. She squinted her eyes at the change of lighting. She was wondering whether he would pay her visit. Several weeks passed and here he is. Kim Namjoon in his full glory, ready to get on her nerves.

“Where’s Yoongi?” Looking at the empty side of the bed she asked, not minding his words. He sneaked late in the night, thinking she was dead asleep and left her room too early in the morning. She has let him do that. It will only help her in the future.

“We had a deal,” Namjoon repeated, his voice firm and unwavering as he was seated in the armchair next to her bed, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of concern and disappointment.

“And we still have a deal, don’t we?” She asked rather mockingly, her tone laced with sarcasm, pulling herself up to sit on the bed. Her eyes still not used to the lighting she blindly reached to a glass of water that was on the nightstand to ease her throat of the uncomfortable dryness burning inside.

“You attempted to kill yourself. I’d count that as violating our deal,” he stated bluntly. Y/N’s jaw clenched as she listened to Namjoon's accusation, a surge of defensiveness rising within her. The man and his tactics irked her.

She knew she had pushed the boundaries of their agreement, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Not to him at least.

“It was a moment of weakness, okay? I’ve had enough at that point.” Namjoon’s gaze remained steady, unmoved by her protestations. As if he saw right through her.

“Do you want us to throw you into a mental house? Is that what you’re trying to do?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the glass of water as she fought to control the rising tide of anger within her.

“You all would have to throw yourself in first.”

She refused to back down, refused to let him belittle her struggles or dictate her fate. Y/N’s grip tightened around the glass of water, her knuckles turning white with tension as she fought to control the rising tide of anger within her. Namjoon’s words felt like a slap in the face, a harsh reminder of her own vulnerability and the consequences of her actions.

He chuckled at her response. The sound grating on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

“As I said, it was a moment of weakness, there was no different means to stop him—”

“Maybe if you didn’t provoke him before, he wouldn’t do it, Y/N.”

“I did not provoke him. I did not ask for any of this,” she spat, her voice trembling with fury. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she glared at Namjoon. She wanted to throw the glass at him so badly.

“Yet here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And whose fault is that, Namjoon? Certainly not mine.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened at her defiance, his gaze hardening as he met her eyes with unwavering intensity.

“You’re just like him, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “Stubborn. Refusing to see reason. Refusing to accept help. We had a deal goddammit—”

“With all due respect, Namjoon. I do not trust you nor your intentions to actually send me over to America once the time is up.” He had expected her defiance, but her lack of trust cut deeper than he cared to admit. He did not know why in detail. But it was for the greater good that the Buin and Kkangpae will be a power role model couple for their clan.

“You don’t trust me?” he repeated, his voice low and tinged with disbelief. Ridiculous.

“Trust is earned, Namjoon,” she retorted, her voice unwavering despite the tremor in her heart. “And you haven't exactly given me a reason to trust you.” His frustration was simmering beneath the surface.

“Aight.” He said after some time of thinking.

“What do you want?” He asked, intrigued about what would make her trust him. Y/N’s gaze narrowed; her expression guarded as she considered Namjoon’s question.

“Assurances.”

“Name it.”

“I want Xiaoli, Kai, Daiyu and her son out of here. Somewhere overseas. Unharmed and not to be bothered again.” His expression conflicted as he weighed the implications of her request. The smirk on his face was still present.

“Xiaoli is betrothed to Taehyung, and she is so of her own volition. You yourself gave them your blessing, Buin.” Y/N’s tongue clicked unsatisfied with his words.

“Give her the courtesy and at least give her the chance to decide, without your influence.” He knew she had a point, even if he was reluctant to admit it. The power dynamics within their world were complex, and he had grown accustomed to wielding his influence with impunity. The holy seven always did so.

“Fine,” he conceded, his tone grudging. “I’ll make sure Xiaoli has a chance to make her own decisions. But you’re pushing your luck, Yoongi may not—,”

“He will agree.” She stated resolutely. Namjoon’s eyebrows rose slightly at Y/N’s bold assertion, surprised by her unwavering confidence.

“Very well,” Namjoon replied, his voice tinged with resignation. “I’ll speak to Yoongi and I’ll arrange for them to sail away once Kai is well enough to travel, but only if you promise to uphold your end of the deal and it’s new conditions”

“What conditions?” She asked, utterly confused. This was about him earning her trust. But of course, Kim Namjoon would somehow manage to manipulate his way through.

“Forgive him, Y/N. That’s what I’m asking for. It’s been weeks since Kai can stand on his own feet. Talk, walk, eat, everything. Why’d you still not uphold your side of the deal?”

A weighty silence enveloping the room as Y/N processed his words. The idea of forgiving Yoongi felt like an impossible task, a betrayal of everything she had endured at his hands. She could not find a word that would describe what she feels now.

“Holding onto anger and bitterness will only continue to weigh you down. Death would be redemption, yet you are still here, living and breathing by God’s will and doing.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“When is he planning to do it?” She spoke softly, her words laced with urgency and caution.

“I don’t know-” she murmured, swallowing the lump in her throat. “But I can’t bear the thought of Bo Cheng witnessing such a horror.”

Daiyu’s eyes darted around the dimly lit corridor, wary of lurking shadows and prying ears.

“We must leave this place, Y/N,” she urged, her voice a breathless whisper.

“I can’t-” Y/N’s voice caught in her throat, her gaze dropping to the floor as a wave of despair washed over her.

“—not yet, at least.” Daiyu placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“But you will-” Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Daiyu’s gaze hardened.

“-And you’ll take Bo Cheng with you. Even Ma if we will be clever enough.”

“Xiaoli?” she inquired cautiously.

“Xiaoli doesn’t share our sentiments. Taking her against her will would make me no better than them.” Daiyu nodded, understanding the complexity of Y/N’s feelings towards Xiaoli.

“He won’t let us all go,” said Daiyu, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. In normal circumstances, he would never give a green pass to anyone from inside of their clan. Especially, to the closer circle. But the circumstances were not normal. And as he spoke himself numerous times at this point. He will do everything to keep her by his side.

“He will. If I promise to stay.”

“But that’s-”

“It’s not my time yet, Daiyu—” she interrupted her quickly.

“But it will come.”

author's note: this took me longer than I thought, mainly coz of life getting in my way, but nonetheless, chapter 8 is here. So far, this is the most I'm sceptical about chapter so yeah, nervous to put it out. Yoongi's got a taste of his own medicine to some degree and maybe finally he'll start to see things differently. Do you believe Yoongi can change for her? Hmm? We will see. Enjoy the chapter. Thank you for reading and continuing to read the story 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

PS: I hope you don't hate Xiaoli entirely coz I have a filler one-shot mapped out in my head 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction. Nor in this case, I'm a medical professional.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.

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