#because yeah of course their relationship is messy (understandably so) but they've made no attempt to actually communicate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sor-vette · 3 years

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#15.5 134340 (slowed)

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

• type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly) • w/c: 10.6k • rating: explicit

• c/w: *cracks knuckles* passive & active suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt (drowning) & mention of previous attempts, depression, homophobia, internalized heterosexism, toxic family dynamics, parental issues, use of f slur, infidelity (not really but idk how to describe it), alcohol consumption & its abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smoking, a relationship falling apart, (your beloathed) lack of communication, self - hate, arguments, sort of breakup, crying, pining, struggling with one's sexuality, mentions of depersonalization, so much crying like a ton, angst + smut!! oral (f receiving), spanking, use of a vibrator, light choking (it's...yeah.. hands... the ones who get it, get it), overstimulation, body worship, praise, light marking, just a dash of (healthy!) possessiveness as a treat, implied voyeurism, reader is insecure

• series’ masterlist • other works

• a/n: SMUT IS AT THE END SO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ IT FEEL FREE TO SKIP :) In this chapter, the relationship between the boys is messy, like just pure angst. At this point in the timeline, they've understood that the nature of their relationship is not only "friends" but they're really struggling with it because 1) there's a lot of them, 2) some of them are insecure with their sexualities 3) all of them are stressed and overworked this year as it was in real life. No one has made it official, so they're all kind of struggling to understand what is this, some want to breach the next step, some are too afraid to commit. No one's the designated bad guy during this, everyone has their reasons, everyone has their hurt, which is I guess, the whole point of this fic. It mostly takes place from early 2018 to early 2019, with the exception of time skip to present day at the very end. In the endnotes, you'll find some trivia about this year and what's released when in this universe. Also, forgive me for the smut, idk how to write it lmao

There's no point in time that Yoongi could name as a schism, as a reason why he felt different to everyone else. There was a boy named Min Yoongi, born on March 9, 1993, and he reckoned that he lived like other kids did.

Yes, the point of darkness was overwhelming yet also invisible. One day a boy, next day a man on a brink of suicide. It wasn't like he wanted it all the time - to die. Maybe once or twice had he gone to the level of planning it out, of doing it, half-heartedly, of course, if not he wouldn't be here to lament on that fact. It was just a never-ending morbid curiosity, like a shock wire that zapped him intermittently over the years. It was just always there - unshakeable, unmendable, a deep need to just rest, disappear, become once again nothing from which he was brought out into life.

It was hardly a new experience, more of an old wound, a scab but he knew not how to treat it. Maybe he should just adjust that this was him, a fundamental part of his existence - to hate it.

Namjoon stormed into his studio, face chafed red from the wind and eyes dead to the world. He walked without speaking a word, dropped a stack of torn pages on top of Yoongi's desk and left just as mutely as he came in. It had become a routine occurrence. Their hatred towards each other had snuck up just as invisible. Or it was not hatred... Yoongi's hand reflexively sank into the pages. Hoseok... No perhaps not hatred, but whatever it was hurt enough to cause unceasing bitterness. Shaking his head, Yoongi purged any stray thoughts - of Hoseok, of Jimin, everyone. Fuck them, he was too tired.

Lazily, he raised the pages to his eyes, trying to decipher the erratic, jumping lines. The ink was smudged in some places and if he would brush them, the words would fade even more as faint moisture still clung to the paper. He glanced outside. The weather was beautiful, with not a single rain cloud in sight.

He drew a big, exhausted sigh but made no attempt to follow Namjoon, it would not be welcome anyway. Rather, he fished out a nearby pen and traced the lyrics.

If only I could, I wanted to ask you Why did you do that back then? Why did you kick me out? Without a name to myself, I still revolve around you Our goodbye is colourless, that unchanging colour

He stood frozen with flowers in hand like a complete fool, stuck mid-step. What he wanted, was to run to fly, no, to evaporate, perhaps never to be born. She was really pretty and nice, blushing timidly she adjusted Hoseok's shirt around her bare thighs and Yoongi turned away to not make her uncomfortable. He wanted to hate her, to scream and curse at her but it would be unfair and he was not in the habit of ever insulting women. As Hoseok padded out of his room, he froze as well, momentarily glancing down at the flowers. The ones Yoongi knew he knew were meant for and for a brief, passing moment Hoseok's face fell dour, even something akin to guilt coloured his cheeks but then it passed and if there ever was a sound to heartbreak it would be the one Yoongi heard right now.

"Hi, you're Suga, right? Hoseok's friend?" the girl asked awkwardly, trying to ease the surging tension.

"No," he croaked.

Hoseok was staring at the wall. How do you tell your sneaky link that Yoongi was not only "that friend" but also soulmate, a lover, a hole of fucking dirt it seemed that deserved no explanation, not a single word of clarity. Her eyes flitted between the two men as tension was rising to a nearly unbearable degree.

"I'll go freshen up," she at last squeaks and was quick to scurry away. Yoongi wanted to do much the same.

"What's her name?" Yoongi asked, tone deep and expressionless as he watched her disappear. His head simply refused to turn towards Hoseok and maybe that was for the better.

"It's...uh... Do-Yun, yeah."

"Do-Yun is blonde."

Hoseok fell silent, dropping his hands by the side. Yoongi didn't know which one was worse if Hoseok would start actually loving them or remain like this. Either way, he was tired of hearing how he was Hoseok's happiness, how he set him free, how he could be the only one Hoseok didn't have to pretend with, only to be met every other morning with this - a new starstruck fancy and his own heart in tatters. He was done.

"Hey...Yoongi," Hoseok began, perhaps telling from Yoongi's expression that this time was different but he didn't want to listen to anything anymore. Definitely no more lies.

Without replying, he took a step back when Hoseok reached out and tossed the bouquet into the trash without looking back.

The most aggravating thing, of course, whether they believed it or not, was that they were all connected. More like flies in the same spider web but connected nonetheless. So when Yoongi wanted to leave, he couldn't. There were still remaining five members with who,m the relationship was no easier nowadays. They didn't know what exactly was the catalyst but the situation was stifling. They tolerated each other only due to the sheer force of managers manifesting itself as being physically pulled by their hair to be in the same room, it was just that nauseating.

Yoongi breezed past Jin, not acknowledging his presence in the lobby. To be fair neither did he as Jin's gaze remained firmly focused on the ground. From one of the rooms, raised, furious voices were travelling down the hall, inciting piqued and also nervous attention. The door was ripped open and Jungkook ran out, cheeks covered in tears. He pushed past everyone, blind and deaf to Jimin's calls after him. Wasn't that a familiar scene. Jimin stood in the doorway, frowning. On his neck Yoongi spotted a hickey and though faint there was a perfume lingering in the air that distinctly didn't belong to any of them. It was sickening and yet by now familiar.

"What do you want?" he snapped at Yoongi watching him.

"Nothing from you."

Jimin turned around and slammed the doors shut so hard they made a loud creak of protest. Numbly Yoongi trekked on, ignoring everyone's inquisitive glances. But the day proved itself in desperate need to screw him over because in front of his studio lo' and behold sat Hoseok. Unkempt and sleepless, he was perched on the ground, seemingly gone to the trouble of being here the whole night - waiting. Where once this gesture would make Yoongi's heartbeat out of his chest, now it left behind a sour taste. He just wanted to be alone. They didn't want him anyway so why the display?

Noticing Yoongi's slumped shuffling, Hoseok sprung up, eyes wide in panic.

"Hey," he stammered but Yoongi didn't respond.

Walking straight ahead he typed in the code and would have run into the safety of the four walls if not for the hand grabbing his elbow.

"I'm... Listen... I can be better-"

"No, stop. Stop spewing the usual routine! I don't care anymore."

With some sick satisfaction, he watched Hoseok recoil. When he spoke his voice was thin and watery.

"You don't?"

"No," Yoongi lied, "I don't. Did you think I was going to wait for you forever? Like a dog? Am I your pet?"

Hoseok took a step back, shaking his head, mortified.

"No! Of course not! It's just..."

Yoongi narrowed his eyes.

"Just - what?" he asked venom dripping from his tone.

"You know...It's not... you!" Hoseok shrunk in on himself. "You're confident about it. You...you say who you are and you don't care what people think! I can't...you know I struggle."

"So does Namjoon," Yoongi snarled. "But he at least respects me."

"I do respect y-"

"No, no. I'm done, Hoseok, I'm just done."

And so the conversation ended with a similar door slam.

There’s no name allowed for me I, too, used to be your star You must feel nice to be the light All I did was to receive you

Yoongi sat fiddling with the water glass, his hands clammy and his heart trembling to the point he had half the mind to worry whether it was an early stroke. The pleasant music of the restaurant did nothing to soothe his nerves.

"Hello, son," his mother cooed all the from the entrance across the floor. He got up and was instantly welcomed in her arms. Her grip was so strong he began to choke. His father trailed behind and the only greeting between them was a brisk nod. While the attempts to remain civil and conversational were made, they quickly fell through and they were left ticking slowly away. The dam burst with a seemingly innocuous albeit difficult question.

"Are you still living with those boys?" his father asked, tense and glaring at the steak.

"They're in dorms, honey, of course, they would live together," his mother laughed, glancing anxiously at Yoongi. Her eyes pleaded to not say anything but as the night progressed, so were his nerves stretched thinner. He was just so very, very tired.

"Still, when you're on a break shouldn't a healthy young man live on his own? What if you want to bring a girl home?"

Yoongi's jaw tightened.

"I don't bring girls home," he quietly amended.

His father's lips thinned.

"What do you mean by healthy?"

The whole table stopped breathing and his mother drew a big sigh, preemptively hiding her face away.

"You know what I mean."

"I do," Yoongi hummed, "but please explain anyway."

He didn't, instead, simply kept glaring but Yoongi being now not a 15-year-old kid but a seasoned man well versed in all manners of hate, responded in earnest.

"Oh, did you mean if I would bring men home? Would I be sick then?"

"It's not natural."

Yoongi fixed him with a cold glare.

"You know what's not natural? For a father to ignore his family, for him to gamble away all day when his children and wife work themselves to death to eat."

"I WILL NOT HAVE A FAG FOR A SON!" his father smacked the table so loud, the wine glass tipped over and spilt all over the white linen cloth.

"Then I will not be your son," Yoongi calmly concluded, raising to stand. He bowed to his mother, expressing that he was glad to see her and left the restaurant.

Driving back home, he bought bottle after bottle,, so much so the cashier was worried he'd drink himself to death. Yoongi wanted to smirk and crack a joke that indeed that was the plan but deciding against traumatising a stranger he settled on an impassive shrug. He drank until laughter rose from his chest. Though when inevitably it stopped, he felt somehow even worse. His phone kept buzzing, and his father's words kept ringing into his ears, and the numerous arguments and disappointments kept replaying in front of his eyes and he just wanted for it to stop. Stumbling his way to the bathroom he looked at the clear water of the running bath. Then without much thinking, acting on a split second straying thought he stuck his head in and kept it there. He forced his head down as his lungs began to burn as it started to hurt, oh God, it hurt so much but stubbornly he kept his head underwater, feeling with every passing second like he was going to explode. Namjoon should have a fun time trying to get a call back if he was dead. But still, when the moment came, his body slung back, deprived of all strength and miserably Yooongi was still very much alive, only hacking up water and clawing at the bathroom tiles.

After that, he took a sick leave and was happy to not see anything but the wall for three days straight.

What meaning is left of the fallen planet’s remaining life I’ll receive it til' I die, your stifling stare I still orbit you, and nothing’s changed If love has no name, everything has changed

Yoongi was sitting the furthest away from everyone when in the meeting room they weighed on the idea of disbandment. Bang Si-hyuk and Sejin were sweating bullets, rightfully so, but there was nothing they could do to stop the golden geese from leaving if they wanted to. And by the looks of it - they wanted to. No one did so much as a glimpse at each other maybe for Taehyung and Jungkook but one glance at absolutely homicidal Jimin and Jungkook, at least outwardly so, cast away any regrets.

"Boys, boys, I'm sure you can patch thing up!" Sejin tried to appease. Namjoon opened his mouth but was quickly interrupted by Yoongi.

"I don't want to patch thing up."

To say that Bang Si-hyuk felt sick would be an understatement. If Yoongi wanted out there was little chance the rest could be dissuaded.

"I'm done being your doll and I'm done with everyone in this room," he sneered and walked out, trying to not even catch a peek of the heartbroken expressions.

He kept working still, too scared that if he would go home, the incident would occur again but when his head hit the edge of the desk and his shoulder hurt too much from lounging on the sofa, begrudgingly Yoongi dragged himself out. It was 3 in the morning and so Bighit was emptier though not entirely vacant.

He walked with head hung long, sight occasionally blurring. Another body slammed into his and Yoongi was just about to apologize when he recognized that it was Jimin. So he said nothing. The fights had been too many to count and so brutal Yoongi didn't even recall what he should despise Jimin exactly for but he did his best to keep the flame going

"Does your shoulder hurt?" it was said exceptionally wry and with a hard scowl.

"Yes," Yoongi grimaced as well.

"Take some pain medication."

"I will."

A beat of silence passed between them.

"You know what I hate most about you?" Jimin asked and Yoongi's fists bunched up as if to physically protect him from the heartbreak.

"What?"

Jimin lunged forwards and as he did there was perhaps a briefly humorous flash of "that gremlin is going to beat me up!" but instead of a punch, Jimin landed a hug.

He clung around Yoongi's waist like a lifeline and when his nose made impact with his neck, it became wet.

"I can't hate you, I try and I can't!" he cried. " I don't hate you or anyone or even her, I just..." his breath became a mess of incoherent sobs. " I just really hate myself."

Hearing the sharp desperation in his voice. Yoongi wrapped his arms around Jimin's waist in return. He was shaking so bad it was a miracle he was still standing.

"Tell me how to not hate myself. Tell me, Yoongi, please!"

And with a sad, hollow feeling that rises when such a realization takes place, Yoongi recognised he didn't know.

Could it be really that you’ve found Eris Tell me, how am I not as good as that moon Us is the plural form of U Maybe I wasn’t there from the start

They agreed to at least stay amicable if the worst is about to happen. And it was about to happen. Yoongi felt much like he was strapped to a maglev train, rapidly breezing past everything towards an unforgiving and cruel cliff face. There was nothing he could do to stop the collision, nothing to save them from the painful demise, bounding without a care for their well being. Of course, the arrangement to at least call once a year is only made with Jimin. He was the only one Yoongi had spoken a single word on his own wish. But he was getting worse each day. They all were. When cameras turned away all smiles and cheer fled, leaving only soulless shells, lingering around like ghosts. The disbandment was largely now an undisputed fact. Preparations were made to say the final words and dance the final stage. It felt surreal to quit right at the height of their career but if anything that strained them only to new lows. No longer having their trusted supported system, everyone sought comfort wherever they could. Yoongi and Jimin drank regularly, Jin spent thousands if not millions on food or locked himself in the room all day, similarly to Jungkook. No one knew exactly what Taehyung was doing but since his other friends haven't heard from him either, the general understanding was that he did it alone. Namjoon busied himself into work, nearly all hours of the day could light be seen in his studio. But it was Hoseok who took to it the hardest. He reeked of cigarettes, sometimes came to work dreadfully hangover and spoke only in single sentences with long periods of silence between. It was hard for Yoongi to insist that he didn't care when watching them all just...fade. It did become easier when he recalled previous strings of lovers some amassed all while telling Yoogni that they were in love with him. Yes, then it became easier. But not by a lot. In many ways, time was ticking to an end for Yoongi's career, his friends and maybe his life too. He just wasn't sure of anything these days.

Someday, you’ll also understand my words My seasons were always you My cold heart is 248 degrees below zero It stopped the day you erased me Damn

"What do you mean you're in Rome?"

"It means that I'm here," Yoongi replied dryly.

"You are supposed to be in Paris!"

"I'm well aware."

If feasible, Namjoon would scream right into the phone but being a good leader he just relayed the information to Sejin who did scream. There was this little tiny detail that in twelve hours, he was supposed to be in concert in Paris but he was, extraordinarily and without his understanding, standing in Rome.

Yoongi was rather certain he had taken the right plane but the point stood that against all logic he wounded up many kilometres away from where he needed to be, without a manager or a bodyguard in sight. He was for the first time in a long time, longer than he could recall, free. With only a backpack to his name, he blended well into his surroundings with none the wiser of his identity. That actuality washed over him, making his head swim as though intoxicated. There was a great deal of chatter behind the phone, compromised security, postponement and such but it all brushed past him. He kept blinking at the airport announcement board with a newfound sense of amazement, wondering time and time again - what if he just kept being normal? Kept having the privilege of enjoying simple things?

All he gathered, in the end, was to not wander off. They shall send him security and managers. Jugnkook even advised to lock himself in the bathroom but Yoongi did no such thing. He got a coffee, a sandwich, plus some kind of sweet thing that he did not know the name of and while swaying his legs back and forth enjoyed this small reverie. It was somehow easier to breathe and his shoulder despite still aching, hurt a lot less than usual. If Yoongi didn't know better, he would almost think there was something magical at play this particular day. As he looked over the crowd of rushing people his eyes naturally lingered on one. He didn't know why he kept staring at the stranger but deep inside he had this gnawing like a distant suspicion. Intently following their journey, from the sleep-deprived stumble into the doors to the breakage of the suitcase. A suitcase whose colour made his blood run cold. Suddenly, he's taken years back, rain bouncing like bullets underneath the tarp of the 24/7 store. Him, tucked by Hoseok's side and someone, that someone, you, standing further away, red suitcase in tow and watching them back from the dark.

The longer he looked at, the less he could reign in the horrifying reckoning that her and well, her, were, somehow, the same person. He knew that red, he knew that shade. It was such a little detail but he remembered it so well. That red is the same red they kept mentioning in their songs, that red - the same red Jimin loathed so, that red - the same one which he saw behind his eyes, wondering how life would be if they'd done things differently.

She raised her head and met Yoongi's gaze. And he couldn't look away no more and he couldn't think of anything else. Did she understand? Did you understand who sat before you? Did you understand the things unravelling outside your reach?

No, you must not, because you fixed your suitcase, beat the fallen off handle in its place and walked away. Yoongi sprung from his seat. There are muffled complaints coming around - his coffee cup had fallen on the floor - but he didn't think of them. Didn't spend a single second on anything else. In frenzy one he didn't quite fully understand, he rushed after her. The only thing in his vision was the stupid red of her stupid suitcase which he chased like a moth does a flame. This is wrong, he told himself, it's wrong but he couldn't stop. He wanted to cry on her shoulder and tell her all the things that were or could be and most of all he wanted to know whether she had this space as well. Like a missing tooth or a piece of misplaced furniture, an awkward gap in Yoongi's heart that reminded him ever so often of what was not where it should be.

He finally found her right at the exit of the airport standing unsurely by the revolving doorway. The beautiful city of Rome was in front of her and the slight wind ruffled her hair. She should be excited but she was far from so. In fact, Yoongi had not yet seen eyes so lifelessly vacant. He thought to himself that she did feel as terribly lonely as he did.

He took a cautious step forward, ripping the skin off his fingers, not quite knowing what to do. But if she was as abandoned as he, maybe the story of having soulmates will bring some comfort, no matter how delirious. That there was someone, well, seven someone's meant to care for her. But then he recalled Hoseok, staring off into the wall as the next girl escapes their apartment, the endless arguments, the brushed off affections, crying, screaming, panic attacks in the corners, diets and his head below the waterline, hoping that this time will be the one he would be successful. That made him pause mid-step and gaze sadly on. What love did they have, could they give?

"I just really hate myself," Jimin's words rung crystal clear back into his ears. They had none for themselves where else to another person. Whatever dread she was feeling passed and after drawing a deep breath she stepped outside the airport. Outside this small miraculous bubble of impossibility that brought them together across the wide world. And as Yoongi watched her leave, the red suitcase trailing behind, he wished only the best.

The Paris show started as planned. It went so well, momentarily everyone forgot the circumstances around each other, animatedly chattering backstage. Jimin was lounging across Jungkook and Taehyung, Jin and Namjoon laughed heartily on the side, Hoseok hugged Yoongi and he did not push the man away. It seemed for an insane moment that the bad times will pass, that this hurt will heal on its own so that they could just enjoy each other's presence like they used to. But it doesn't. The second that rush died down, the hurt settled back like an oozing scab and one by one they realized what they were doing. And to everyone's chagrin, the playful atmosphere dissipated. And Yoongi, now brushed away, thought against mentioning that he'd seen her. Selfishly, he kept this memory to himself.

I’m just orbiting you (I missed you, I lost you) I’m just going in circles (You erased me, you forgot me)

I once belonged in a world under the sun (The song paused, the song stopped) A smoky layer of mist in the heart of the stars (You erased me, you forgot me)

It’s not much different from yesterday ay Same old days, except you’re not here We were together just up until yesterday ay But it’s to the point where it’s scary, same days but no you

This was it. The tour was coming to an end, ominous December 18th looming on the calendar. The last days. Yoongi had not seen anyone else for some time now. The only contact was Jungkook's text sent some time ago.

Even despite it all, I don't regret meeting you.

And that was it.

Eight years down the drain. Any day now Bighit will publish the disbandment announcement whilst furiously trying to arrange schedules, decline meetings snd generally ease them back into obscurity. They queued up their last songs, their final messages and prepared to promptly disappear from everyone's and especially each other's lives. Soulmates?

What a bunch fucking bullshit.

He heard a ring by the door, frowning at it from his nest of blankets on the bed. Around him there lay documents and chunks of scratched lyrics. Namjoon's song which he had worked all the way from March was yet unfinished and Yoongi feared it never will be. It was too much...too much of him had bled into it, leaving behind spots of ink pooling like blood around the paper. Sneering at the fallen papers when Yoongi at last rustled to climb out the bed, waddling his way to the door. Warily glancing through the peephole, he was surprised to see Hoseok on the other side. He was gnawing on his lip, pacing around with flowers in his hand. It had been nearly a year since meeting not-Do-Yun nevertheless he was hit with a wave of deja vu. His hair was unwashed and he was so tired, he couldn't even stand straight. For some unknown reason, his heart beat sickly in his chest, too faint and too strong at the same time. Should he just leave Hoseok, just never open the doors? He wanted to. It would be a safe action. But then he looked back onto the big bold letters of December 18th on the calendar. They didn't have much time left. Who knew maybe this was the last time he would ever see Hoseok face to face like friends, like... whatever the hell they were to each other.

Oddly self-conscious, he popped the door open and Hoseok jumped, clearly not anticipating that he would be listened to. When he saw the opening doors, his face was briefly illuminated by the brightest smile Yoongi had yet seen on him this year, and he tried not to think at all how it stirred something in his gut.

"Hey," Hoseok swayed on his feet, waving awkwardly. "T-these are for you."

He thrust a bouquet of colourful tulips into Yoongi's arms before he even could say anything. He held them close, not quite certain what to do anymore.

"Thanks," he wheezed. Hoseok looked him over.

"Are you taking care of yourself?"

Yoongi hoped that the bandage on his arm was not noticeable at this angle or the shards of glass from when he smashed the bottle of whiskey yesterday.

"Adequate enough."

It was obviously a lie but one Hoseok did not call him out on.

"I just wanted to say that they pulled out our appearance SBS’ Gayo Daejeon year-end show as well as KBS’ Gayo Daechukje year-end show."

Yoongi nodded along, gazing at the flowers. They smelt nice and the petals were in pristine condition.

"Jimin will release his solo track "Promise" on December 31 and then -"

"That's it," he concluded emptily and Hoseok's eyes began to get suspiciously damp.

"That's it," he echoed, trying to subtly wipe at his face. Yoongi shifted from one foot to another but nothing alleviated the lump rising in his throat. That train had picked up speed and he was breaths away from hitting the wall.

"Have you heard it?" he asked Hoseok lowly receiving a jittery shake of the head in response. He was on the verge of tears.

"N-no, h-he...we h-haven't made up," he gasped for air. "I-I've on-only seen Namjoon."

Yoongi remained standing in the doorway, wrenched apart by guilt and discomfort and pity and the need to protect and the need to curl up into a ball and just die. This was not how it was meant to be. They were okay with the world tearing them apart, expecting it anyway but not each other to do so. Why had the arguments become too much to be settled, since when was pride too important to listen to the other? When had they gone so wrong?

That point of darkness remained invisible still.

"I-I came here to say, th-that I don't regret meeting you. I regret hurting you, I regret lying but not meeting you," Hoseok cried in his sleeve, muffling most of his voice so that the tears would at least not be so audible. Yoongi heard it nonetheless.

"Take care of yourself. You deserve more. I'm sorry for everything. I love you, I'm sorry," and then he simply ran off.

Yoongi was yet again left standing alone and numb.

I’ll be honest, even up until one year without you I was fine, I didn’t have any feelings left The last day I had forgotten I don’t even remember your scent But wait, I’ve smelled this perfume somewhere, ay Just when my memory was about to come back I turned my head around and saw you You’re smiling brightly, but beside you there’s

I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry.

He glimpsed back onto the apartment. It was messy and trashed. He didn't have the strength to cook, to clean, to do anything but spiral, deeper and deeper. He knew, he knew it in his bones, that if he stayed he would do something to himself and that it was no little chance that his luck would finally wear out.

"What the hell are you sorry for, bastard?" he muttered to himself, stomping through the streets. Large, wet snowflakes were falling from the sky, dusting the world in a faint white layer that inevitably melted into a sludge of grey and brown. People and cars rushed past him but he nor heard, nor saw any of them.

I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry.

It became too much. The words pressed on his head, creating a neverending noise looping round and round and round. All that was said, what should be said what won't be said. It was getting hard to breathe.

He won't see them ever again. They will remain too stubborn, then too scared to reach out. They will never see each other again. It will be over. He had met his cliff face and it destroyed him. Splatters of yellow, white and red painted the snow. It was the tulips. Yoongi had been holding them all this time and as he struggled to breathe, unknowingly he had broken the blooms from the stems when he had clutched them too hard.

With a sharp gasp, he kneeled down, trying to gather them up once again but the damage was irreparable. The flowers were broken.

"Are you okay, mister?" a pleasant voice asked and a swishing end of a bright red coat entered his vision. He raised his gaze, desperate for it to be her, he thinks she would understand him, but it was not. Snow fell into Yoongi's face and he didn't know whether that made his face wet or was he crying just like Hoseok. It was not her.

"No," he replied.

"I don't think those flowers can be repaired."

"I know."

Yoongi made no attempt to get himself off the cold ground. He wanted to melt into it, into serenity and stop all of this.

"You can pick up the blooms though. My mom used to do that. Just the blooms and then put them in a shallow bowl of water. They'll keep living at least for a few days."

Obeying her command, Yoongi picked up the blooms and bowed to her in gratitude though he spoke no more. As he walked further along the streets, holding tightly onto what he could salvage, he didn't see how the woman looked after him. When he turned the corner she shook her head.

"Idiots," she whispered to herself and walked away.

Yoongi moved without much understanding or even recognition of what reality was. The lights blended in one, all the sounds, all the people, everything was a mass that enveloped all around but he could not make sense of.

He will lose, he had lost everything.

Namjoon, his number one supporter, Jin, his number one entertainer, Hoseok, his ray of sun, Taehyung, his unexpected but devoted idiot, Jimin, both the angel and the devil on his shoulder and Jungkook, who looked at Yoongi like he was the star. Like he was someone special. They all looked like he was someone to be adored, someone to be loved.

He stopped walking when he tripped over something and fell flat on his back. The tulips he managed to keep close to his chest this time. And for some reason his coat smelt of Hoseok.

"Yoongi, are you okay?" he heard Jungkook's voice and not a second later was yanked upwards. He blinked wearily through the snow and saw the once familiar 24/7 shop, the tarp, the seats, the tight voices of everyone around. He had found his far way into Daehang-no.

How are you? I’m doing okay Unlike my heart, that feels like it’ll explode The temperature right now is -248 degrees

"I hate you more!"

"No, I hate you!"

"You had no right to say it!"

"You had no right to do it!"

"Do you want us to part?! Do you want to get away?!"

"No, I don't want to! Do you?!"

"No, I can't stand the thought!"

They screamed their throats raw and once they did that they talked, and drank, but mostly talked. Yoongi said little as usual, merely looking on. Jungkook placed his head on Yoongi's shoulder as neither had the strength left to put up the front that they didn't care. They cared so much, perhaps too much. Maybe that's what caused the drift in its core. Not the hate, but the care that had been left unspoken and unmentioned for too long.

"I can't stop thinking of her," he muttered to Jungkook, brushing the petals of the red tulip. "I can't stop thinking of what her day is like, what she's doing, how she's feeling."

Jungkook reached to touch his chest.

"She's fine today," he answered as if he knew.

"You don't know that."

"I know. I have... a talent."

Yoongi put his head atop of Jungkook's and pestered him no longer. If he said he did, maybe he did. The world was so strange, far stranger than Yoongi had given it credit for.

"I don't want to leave," Taehyung cried onto the table, the warm tears melting away the small remnants of snow that managed to stick to the plastic. "I don't want to leave! What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Don't cry, Taehyung," Jimin insisted wiping away his friend's cheeks even if he was the one that bawled the most.

"Fuck this, let's just stay together," Jin called out. "Who cares what we are? What we call each other? Do you care?" he looked onto Namjoon who shook his head furiously, turning briefly green as the motion sickness took over.

"Do you care?" Jin asked Yoongi and nuzzling into his padded coat, Yoongi shook his head as well. He did not.

"Then what, pardon my language, the fuck are we doing? Are we idiots or something?"

"Undoubtedly," Hoseok murmured.

After a few more drinks, Namjoon fell flat on his ass and announced in horror that Sejin was releasing a statement of their disbandment. Rushing, tripping and yelling over each other they rushed to BigHit and upon seeing Sejin tackled him to the ground.

"We changed our mind!"

"Cancel the disbandment!"

"We're not leaving!"

Sejin was getting purple in Jungkook's chokehold. And Yoongi who kept the tulips in his hand, standing by the side, laughed and laughed until his stomach hurt.

I’m just orbiting you (Beyond the fog, I watch you as you continue to smile Without you or anything There’s no meaning to my irregular orbit)

Jungkook and Jimin finished singing the chorus and Yoongi gave a thumbs up. Namjoon and Jin were sleeping behind him on the small of the couch, Hoseok sat next to him, chiming in occasionally on what sounded better what not and Taehyung was designated on the coffee duty.

It was April 2019 and there had been no disbandment. The tour was quickly gathered up, extension dates added and the single 134340 was set to be released soon, more than a year after Namjoon had dropped the initial lyrics onto Yoongi's desk.

It had not been easy after that, arguments still rose, insecurities still persisted but they did not allow them to escape their control. And when Yoongi told them of the "incident"... they accepted him as he was, while helping the best they could. It was, for now at least, easier to not settle onto any terms, they were as they had been and had no intention of parting and whatever relationship they had going on, that was its groundwork.

"I really like your part," Hoseok remarked, bumping Yoongi's healthy shoulder.

"Thanks," he replied, blushing faintly.

"You sure you want to keep Adora in the song?"

"Yeah, if it's a song about us, she deserves a spot in, even if it's actually Adora's voice."

"Yeah," Hoseok drawled as the door was kicked open and Namjoon fell on the floor, somehow yanking the lamp with him from the shock. Taehyung without batting an eye stepped over, beaming wide and with numerous coffees.

"I got cookies as well," he announced. "They started to sell those giant ones downstairs."

Yoongi's phone rang and so he left right when they began to squabble over who would get the chocolate chip one. It was his brother for some reason.

"Hello?"

But there was no one on the other end. At least, not directly so. There were voices, arguing and loud voices fighting in the distance.

"I will not lose my son!" his mother yelled. Yoongi had not heard her this angry...perhaps forever.

"But he's..."

"I DON'T CARE WHO HE IS OTHER THAN HE IS MY SON! HE'S BEEN WORKING HARDER THAN ANYONE IN THIS FAMILY! HE'S THE REASON WE HAVE A STURDY ROOF OVER OUR HEADS AND NOT YOU! DAMNIT, YOU STUPID MAN, YOU WILL EITHER ACCEPT HIM AS HE IS OR YOU'LL SEE NONE OF US EVER AGAIN!"

And there was a hard smack of doors behind her, most likely the front. Then only silence.

"So you got that, right?" his brother suddenly spoke, nearly sending Yoongi into a shock state.

"Yeah, I got it."

Then he dared to breathe.

"Why did you show me that?"

"I don't know," his brother replied, shrugging almost audibly. "They've been going at this for a while now and I just thought that maybe you might feel...I don't know...unloved, forgotten? ...So don't think that you are... I don't know."

Neither of his mother's sons had the gift of talking easy what they felt, oftentimes, it was easier to just settle on cut fruits, tokens of apologies but not actual words so to hear his brother reach out, no matter how awkwardly, was... it stirred something unexpected when it came to his family.

"Do you care?"

"Not really. I mean, no offence, but you didn't really hide that you're gay even back home."

"I'm not gay."

There was a pause of silence.

"Ok, do you...have you...I don't know, do you identify with something or is it more like "whatever" type of thing."

"I'm pansexual."

Surprisingly, his brother didn't linger anymore.

"Ok, noted. Congratulations?"

"This sort of thing is not congratulated."

They both snickered on each side.

"Ok, noted that as well."

"How...how is he?" Yoongi tapped at the wall while he spoke. His therapist had recently begun working him through on the habit of ruining his fingers be it biting or nibbling, tapping was supposed to help. So he hoped.

"He's...different. It's not that he doesn't...don't think that he hates you...he's just...yeah."

His brother truly had not been gifted with conversational skills, yet Yoongi understood what he meant.

"Hmm."

"Do you wish he would accept you without mom threatening to leave him?

Yoongi laughed dryly.

"Wouldn't that be a perfect world?"

"Yeah," his brother sighed. "Shame though. Listen, I know you're probably busy these days, but...maybe you want to...you know..."

"Meet?"

"Yeah, it'd be cool to catch up."

"Sure. I'll free the schedule. Next week?"

"Alright, next week then. Bye, take care."

"You too."

Still unsure that the call ever happened, Yoongi lowered the phone and a new message popped up. It was from his father.

You are my son.

It took him five whole minutes to send the following text, but Yoongi had kept staring at his phone, so he didn't miss it.

If you want to be.

That was a very good question. A complicated, hard question he didn't know the answer to. Still, he gathered enough courtesy to reply.

Give it some time.

Drawing a deep breath, he tucked the phone away and re-entered the studio. Taehyung was brandishing the chocolate chip cookie.

"My king," he bowed deeply with a lopsided smirk, presenting Yoongi the treat like a crown.

"Knock it off," he scowled playfully, feeling his face grow hot and rushing back into the chair. "What did I do to earn this luxury?"

Namjoon yawned, nearly splitting his jaw in two.

"You've worked on this song harder than any of us. You deserve it."

"Do you think she would like it?" Jimin asked, staring at his cup of coffee. Lately, all his questions were about her but no one could fault him for that. Now, that everyone had stopped arguing, they were left wondering, wondering and dreaming of possibilities far away.

"I like it," you finally gave in as Jimin had gripped your face in his palms and refused to let go. "Of course, I like it. What do you want me to do, say no when you're here to strangle me?!"

It was Friday evening and years had already passed since the creation of 134340. Looking around Yoongi could hardly believe that things could have ever gone so wrong. Sitting in the small sofa, with word games and cards scattered around, squeezed amid the various take out boxes it felt so far away - the bad days, though Yoongi was not naive enough to assume they were out of reach. The arrival of Mark to him felt ominous and your mother even more so. He had somewhat patched things up with his father, not completely but enough to stay in touch, mostly for the sake of his own mother's well being. But he would rather have you not be strained into something like that.

While you and Jimin kept squabbling, he crossed eyes with Hoseok who was watching you intently from the sidelines. He hadn't let you out of his sight ever since the meeting with Mark. Sometimes Yoongi pondered had he looked at Hoseok the same way - reverent but so scared, scared to hurt, to be hurt. As they glanced at each other, they bloomed into knowing, bittersweet smiles. Everything still hung in balance but they had pulled themselves out of a more hopeless ditch so maybe, despite their shared idiocy, everything would fall in its rightful place.

He rather not think of an alternative. The "incident" was not entirely forgotten.

"Yoongi, there's literally a seat over there," Namjoon pointed out, peeking over his glasses as he leisurely munched on a fry, simultaneously obliterating Jungkook at Pictionary.

"So take it then," he tossed back, snuggling deeper into your lap.

"Dear God, it hurts," you whined as he pressed you deeper into the sofa.

"Life is pain, baby, you just have to bear it."

And so he continued to practically purr in your lap while Jungkook was breaths away from tearing into Namjoon. It felt nice having everyone around. Felt like a dream, to be honest.

When the house had quieted down and they retreated for the night, he lingered back to stare through the kitchen window. It still threw him out the loop to find somewhat unfamiliar sights staring back at him. But he didn't regret it. How could he?

When he heard someone padding into the kitchen, he turned around, expectant.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark, weirdo?" you accused him walking to get a cup of water. A habit of yours, one he hadn't at all anticipated this night.

"Waiting for you. Big bad wolf and all that."

"Get the garb, wolf, you're supposed to look like a grandma," you smirked back.

He glimpsed you all over, darting his tongue to wet the drying lips. Your bare legs, your shoulder from which that small piece of fabric you dared to call a nightgown had slipped away from. There was nothing really seductive per se and yet also it was everything. No wonder, Jin had gotten a nosebleed when you started wearing this thing.

"Come with me," he reached his hand out, standing upright. You eyed his hand dubiously.

"Why? It's 1 in the morning and again - why?"

"Do you have to ask so many questions?" he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, because you have this zoned-out look in your eye."

"I do not!"

He perhaps had a very vivid dream three days ago. One he, up to this point, thought had hidden rather well.

"Yes you do and if the Red Riding Hood had asked more questions maybe she would not be eaten."

"What if she wanted to be eaten?"

Even in the dark of the kitchen where the only source of light was the streetlamp outside, he could not miss how you squeezed your thighs closer. He licked his lips once more.

"No one wants to be eaten," you grumbled, peering anywhere but him.

"Get your ass over," Yoongi grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You began to stare at the ceiling.

"I want to show you something."

Not even a bomb could distract him from the fact that your eyes peered downward, for a millisecond but they did.

"Not that, you pervert," he snickered.

To say that it was mind-boggling to sit in between Yoongi's legs was an understatement. Everywhere you turn, you look or smell, he's just there, like a wall. A very sturdy, warm wall. Or perhaps a blanket. He had wrenched you in between his legs as you both sat and listened to his new tracks. The mystery of his daily appearances had been solved, he was still working, renting out a small space, three streets away and creating his own private little studio. You try to listen, you really do but his arms were flexing right beside you and his fingers were gently but skillfully gliding over the keyboard. And he had interrupted the now daily pleasuring session. It put you to sleep and it eased the nerves that gathered during the day. You may have gotten used to their presence, but not to them always fondling you, especially Jimin and even more so Yoongi. He'd gotten brazen, ever since Jae first appeared. In your own private dreams, you had the delusion to think that maybe he was flirting with you. More often than not he would just stare at you, sometimes looking away when caught, blushing and giggling shyly to himself, other times meeting your gaze full-on with a fuckboy-ish smile.

It was just weird.

"Hey, are you listening?" he nudged your shoulder with his nose, still typing and adjusting something on the equalizer. You had about the same gathering they did when you talked about cornice.

"Uh uh," you were intently following his middle finger stroking down the edge of the laptop.

"I could have sworn you were instead thinking of all those fun times you have with yourself here," his voice dropped down by an octave, not even really sounding like himself while your stomach lurched.

Mortified, you pretend to not understand what he was talking about, trying to not at all weigh on the fact that his arms, shockingly muscular arms, were squeezing you tighter. Or that his breath was in your nape. Or that he was in fact real. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe you were having a dream too good.

"And what would those be?" you snapped but your voice was breathless.

"You should really invest in a quieter vibrator if you want to keep it subtle."

He laughs, not exactly mocking but it does make you shiver.

"Every night as well! Me and the boys can hardly get any sleep."

It should gross you out but it doesn't that they had been listening. The embarrassment of it all of course tells you to toss yourself off the bridge, how were you supposed to look them in the eyes afterwards, but the more frivolous part of yourself is over the moon. These remarks make you feel something you never thought was possible - desired.

"Oh, shut up," you grumble, adjusting the silky nightgown.

It had been an impulse purchase, something to remind yourself once in a while that you were not a formless, putrid blob. Your mind was so loud it was hard to connect it to your body. It was perhaps silly and juvenile to do such a thing through sleepwear but now basking in someone's touch and attention it was more than successful. You felt like you were about to erupt, every touch and every graze reeled you in and out of reality.

"Why? Can't wait to get back to it?"

Yoongi toyed with the strap of your gown and you can barely remember how to breathe.

"Why are you doing that for?" you squeaked.

"Because I want you," he replied like it's easy, like it doesn't just cause your brain to explode. "Do you want me?"

You keep quiet, eyes somewhat squeezed shut. It's not horrifying but it is scary. What are you supposed to say? You hope Yoongi after all this time is not the type to lead you on as a joke, or just because you could but you never met someone who didn't do that. Most of the time you weren't even an option, let alone second or the third or the tenth and it had not bothered you because you hadn't wanted anyone. Before them, at least.

And it was them not just Yoongi.

Images of Hoseok pinning you to the wall, kissing you like he's starved, like was going crazy about not kissing you invade your mind. You well remember the heartache it caused and also the conversation. About asking. Was this Yoongi...asking?

He gently spins you around and you come face to face with his sombre expression. Fuck, he was asking. But you still don't know what to say. Hoseok said that you wouldn't be thinking, really thinking, what it meant being with them. And you weren't. It was hard to think when it all felt like a fever dream.

"Do you want me, baby? The same way I want you?"

You lick your lips and his eyes instantaneously focus there. He even seemed to be shaking, his hands on your shoulders definitely were.

"Don't overthink it, but be certain. If you don't want me, I'll go."

You skim him over. He's good looking of course but that's a little factor, a mere footnote, he was just...comfort. Even now, wearing an oversized shirt and sweats, he looks cosy, like he belongs here, there's no gap of him, the star and the idol and you, the mere mortal with your own mountain of trobles.

"I do want you," you say, squeezing your eyes shut. It was easier to say these things in the dark. "But I don't know how you want me..."

He throws his head back and lets a deep, throaty laugh, hands coming up to squeeze your sides. You shudder violently.

"Is it really not that obvious? Have we been not fawning over you enough?"

He gently noses at your neck and you lean back allowing the small space where he can lay a series of gentle pecks against your thrumming pulse.

Everything of you was rapidly going into overdrive.

Holy shit, holy shit, this is real, you're not dreaming this is real! Wait, you hadn't shaved! Wait, maybe your breath stinks! You still have that rough patch of skin around your knees! You need to shower, you need to shave, you need to get ready! Does he have a condom? Will he fit? Does your vagina even look like how it should?

Yoongi sensing your tensed shoulder leans back, gently massaging them.

"You're overthinking," he mutters, "don't."

"I have anxiety, this is the only thinking I do," you growl back at him and immediately feel a harsh slap on your ass.

Your eyes shot open and you find a mischievously giggling Yoongi staring back at you, smile so wide, his gums show.

"Did you...did you just spank me?" you ask, stunned.

Still snickering, he dares to shrug.

"It'll distract you."

Half joking, you wrap your hand around his neck. Feeling how his heart is threatening to rip out of his system. He blushes bright red but otherwise seems happy.

"You don't know how to choke someone."

"Maybe the intent is not sexual," you threaten.

Quickly he grabs your fingers into his, holding them still and wraps his free hand around your neck. His long fingers wrapping around with ease, noticeable but not overbearing. You stop moving, struggling to breathe from the excitement. Thoughts form and pass by without the capability to stick because - holy shit!

You sit in his lap, the faint sound of his newest tracks still playing in the background, forgotten for now and the room settles with a newfound intimacy of just being close to each, taking in the actuality of the scene.

"If you want to stop, if you feel uncomfortable, say so or tap my shoulder, clonk me on the head, okay? This is about you and what you want."

"That seems slightly unfair," you murmur, caressing his hand absent-mindedly. He shivers.

"I just want to make you feel good. We all want to."

It's the sincerity in his words that makes your shoulders slump back. You relax as best as you could.

"That's a nice start, you're doing very good," he purrs and begins to leave a series of warm kisses against the column of your throat, occasionally biting on the skin, though his palm stays wrapped around your throat. It makes you tremble.

"I thought hickeys are..." your breath hitches, "are...a teenager thing."

"Don't care," he whispers, running his teeth against the soft flesh, "he marked you purple, so will I."

It seems like no passage of time will make them less salty about Jae.

Once he's satisfied meaning your neck looks like you've been chewed by a pack of boars, Yoongi tugs you upward, hands still kneading any knots of your shoulders, releasing any lingering tension.

You might just black out from pure anticipation alone.

As you lean back on the bed, shivering in the cold air, Yoongi stands over you, eyes as dark as the night, seemingly content to just keep watching.

"Stop staring," you murmur, self-consciously, covering your chest with your arms. Your skin feels feverish and you have to squeeze your thighs to lessen the rampaging need for someone to do something. Anything.

"How can I?" he retorts, quickly crawling on top of you. "When you look like a fucking dream."

Oh, he was a menace.

"Quit saying such things," you hide your face in the pillow.

"What that you are gorgeous?" he repeats innocently, kissing your collarbone while his fingers flutter across your inner thigh. "That you're a dream come true? That if I would have my way, you'd be in this bed for days?"

His finger lightly teases your entrance.

"You're so smart, baby, so, so smart but in some areas, you're really not getting some things."

He begins to kiss down your stomach, and even with the nightgown in the way, you can feel everything. You were having a fever, he was putting you in medical condition from all of this.

"So we're just going to make you do some affirmations, alright?"

His hands reached to grab around your ankles as he pushed your thighs open. You stare at the ceiling, unable to breathe or think, just wondering somewhere in a distant brain cortex whether one could die from teasing.

Kissing up each of your thighs, lingering a tad longer on the stretch marks and imperfections, he finally breached the pregnant silence with a guttural growl.

"Question time, baby. What do I love about you?"

"I-I don't know."

He smacks your thigh, the flesh jiggling from the impact.

"My legs!"

"Correct. What else?"

Your mind is coming up blank when his breath ghosts over your cunt.

Giving another hint, his arm reaches to squeeze your nipple.

"My breasts!"

"Correct. What do I want more than anything right now?"

He dives in with a bold lick, teasing your clit.

Your blood reaches a new boiling point.

"Me," you gasp and he hums in agreement. All of which you can feel. It's not long before your thighs begin to shake and attempt to close and the familiar coil begins to wind up in the pit of your stomach. He keeps them open, fingers digging into your flesh while he eats you out like there wasn't anything on heaven or earth that could compare.

Tears begin to collect in the corners of your eyes as you start to shiver violently all while trying not to make a sound.

If they all liked you, which both Yoongi and Hoseok had implied, wouldn't they feel betrayed?

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Yoongi briefly retreats for a breath.

"Keep singing, baby," he insists, smacking your thigh again. "So that everyone can hear you. Namjoon, those stupid neighbours in 38."

Apartment 38 and Yoongi had been having beef for some time now. Something about wrong mail in the wrong mailbox. You couldn't give less of a shit.

"Why Namjoon sp-specifically?" you tug at his hair and he grunts appreciatively.

"He's probably suffering right now, all blue-balled. He's been the horniest out of us all."

That...honestly wasn't as surprising.

Something digs in your back and you whine in pain. Yoongi is quick to look up, sobering slightly at the sound.

"You want to stop? Everything alright?"

Trying to ignore the embarrassing feeling of him just seeing you bare, you dig for the offending object. To your neverending mortification, it is your purple rabbit vibrator.

Yoongi laughs loudly when seeing it.

"Hello, nemesis. I've been wanting to see this thing for quite the while."

He grabs it out of your hand and to your horror, turns it on. The sound is indeed loud.

"It's like a whole truck," he giggles. "And it matches your hair as well!"

"Would you shut the fuck up," you hiss fake crying and then jolt upright as without warning Yoongi pushes it up against your clit. The sound alone had ramped up your nerves to a thousand and you feel that damning sensation of needing something in you as your pussy clenches around nothing.

"You got so wet," he remarks continuing to greedily eat you out, circling the vibrator around your clit. Your back arches and no matter how hard you try, you can't stop making sound. Moaning, whimpering, begging to stop or to continue, it's getting harder to tell.

"Another question, baby," he growls, turning the vibrator to the highest setting. You scream louder, trashing around, all mind and worry escaping.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You! Please don't stop!"

"Say that again."

"I'm yours! Just, please -"

"And who am I?"

You frown in confusion but after a quick slap on the thigh, you dare to say the unimaginable.

"You're mine," you gasp, one stray tear rolling past your temple. "You're mine."

"That's right and don't you forget it."

If Yoongi feels any pain from your attempts to rip the hair out of his head, he doesn't voice it and for a moment all world disappears as that coil in the pit of your stomach rips open. When you come from your high, Yoongi softly pecks at your thighs, casting the vibrator aside.

There's a suspicious bang coming from the other side of the wall and you remember that Jin was sleeping just there. He must have heard, there's was no way he couldn't have but still shivering from the pleasure, it's hard to care for it.

"You did so well, baby, so, so well," he praises crawling away from your lower half and wiping the stray tear. "Do you want to continue?"

You nod mutely, nuzzling already boneless into his arm.

There's no way no one is unaware of what's happening, definitely not when Yoongi has to reach up to the headboard to get the proper angle and it pounds repeatedly against the wall. Or when he hoisted you on top of him, laying his sweaty forehead in the crook of your neck and muttering incoherently how much he adored you, while he palmed your breasts and when subsequently the bed broke and you both rolled onto the floor. It didn't deter anyone. In between sloppy kisses, thrusting so deep you could swear you could feel him in your throat, he opened his mouth to say something, something important, to say that, but you smacked a hand over his lips.

"Don't-don't say it, I'm-I'm not ready for that."

His eyes briefly widened but he understood and nodded along.

When you both came, sticky and covered in sweat, panting and shivering, he whispered in your ear.

"Still, you know that I do. We all do."

You sniffled lightly, overstimulated and emotional. No matter how hard you tried that simple truth was rather hard to grasp. He moved to lay next to you, trembling from the cold seeping off the floor.

"When...when did you start?"

Yoongi sighed with all the weariness in the world.

"Longer than you think. Before we met, really."

You peeked up to his relaxed face, while he leisurely carded his fingers through your hair.

"How is that possible? You can't love someone you've never met."

"Sure you can. If they're your soulmate. Now shut up and go to sleep."

previous ⟷ next

me, dropping this beast of a mess after a long ass time

so, the promised trivia about this universe:

1. 134340 was released as a single in 2019 and not in LY album

2. ARMY was convinced that the boys will disband in 2018 bc it was really apparent how bad their relationship was this year. 2019 started really messy because they were supposed to disband but instead they picked up the tour where they left it off starting with Japan in January 12, 2019

3. Because of the whole situation with Yoongi, Hoseok is so hesitant with MC, he once saw how bad he could mess things up so he's scared that it'll happen again

4. Namjoon saw MC in UN on September 24th and Yoongi saw her in FCO Airport in Rome on October 18th, 2018. She was just accepted late into the interior design program hence why they met. As for how did Yoongi even ended up there, let's just say fate lol

5. I know that irl Yoongi didn't solely create 134340 but in this AU the lyrics really fit with his storyline (and it's one of my faves), so here it is more of his song

6. Yes, literally everyone but MC has gone to therapy lmao

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