broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg
title: broken (pt. 1)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongiâs interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brotherâs best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further⊠until everything goes to hell.
note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha.
warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongiâs pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, brođ„Č, yoongi in the studiođ©, the studio boys make another appearanceđ, âŠsomeone else makes their first appearanceđđ, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongiđ« , crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and heâs not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), âŠbad boy yoongiđđ, honestly he is on another level of warning here donât perceive međ, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory weâve been waiting forđ, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :â)), kissing :â)), oh god the kissingâ€ïžâđ©č, thereâs just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all
playlist: broken (lp)
drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est
word count: ...19.1k đ¶ââïž
-
-
Words abandon you.
They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man youâve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongiâs lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything youâve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongiâs, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips.Â
All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels.Â
Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, âAbout what?âÂ
Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, âReally.âÂ
âJust out late, is all,â you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense itâs almost crowded. âJimin had another party, remember?âÂ
âCourse I do.â
Huh? Wait. Why does he sound soâ
âI was there.â
Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough⊠did he see you⊠and YoongiâŠ
No. Thereâs no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted.Â
With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, âYou were?âÂ
âI was.âÂ
The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, itâs obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. âSo whereâd you go?âÂ
You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside.Â
Does he not know? Or does he know and heâs just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi.Â
Itâs just not the right time.Â
âYuriâs,â you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how youâre gonna finesse this. âShe came and got me.âÂ
Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists.Â
Here it comes. Heâs gonna ask why you didnât say anything. Like he always does because for some reason youâre still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you canât just sneak around with his best friend in peaceâ
âK.â Your eyes shake once. âJust tell me next time.âÂ
And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence.Â
All the words around you just as speechless.Â
Just like that, youâre gone again.
After watching you leave and wishing you didnât have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mindâs horizon.
Just a little longer. He hopes youâll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else.Â
Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before.Â
At least something in his apartment has changed for the better.Â
Who wouldâve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, thereâs no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much heâs fucking tried.Â
As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasnât. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face.Â
And a little bit of summer rain.Â
It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip.Â
What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. Itâs the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times youâve caught him slipping. But when youâre lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? Thatâs when he canât even think straight.Â
How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.
But he canât afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Donât be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep.Â
Lies. Who is he kidding? Thereâs no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesnât know when heâll get to see you next.Â
There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongiâs been so in his fucking head that itâs chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he canât break free, and itâs driving him to the brink.
But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.
After three months of questioning his existence.Â
All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason.Â
And you wonât ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe thatâs why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe thatâs why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe thatâs why he canât quite carry the weight in his chest.
Dumping himself on dark mountainsâcreations of his and your designâYoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs.Â
Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.
The fuck.
Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait itâs probably you saying youâre home.
Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.
And he doesnât see your name.
Dumbass: 1 New Message
But your brotherâs.
What the hell does heâ
Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.
âŠShit.
Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.
Heâs awake. You went home. And heâs awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out?Â
Shit.Â
Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isnât a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different.Â
Why canât he fucking move?Â
Every regret Yoongiâs kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Donât answer. Just answer. Donât fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and itâs a call oh fuckâwait⊠Itâs Jungkook?Â
Why not. Sure. Whatâs one more issue.Â
Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.
âHey, you coming?â
âHuh?â
âWe have that session in thirty.â
The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, âYeah, Iâll be there.âÂ
âYeah, donât be late. Itâs those guys from before.âÂ
Fuck, itâs that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast.Â
But as things go. If they donât take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.
âHeading out,â Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch.Â
Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over
Fuck!
âYou okay?âÂ
âShit, yeah.â Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, âMaybe. Might be like two minutes late.âÂ
âNah, come now.âÂ
Heâs heading over? Your brother? If thatâs the case, thereâs no way he doesnât know.Â
Fuck, relax. Donât overthink. If anything, there wouldnât have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures heâd just find out as soon as heâs thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesnât wanna find out.Â
But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, âIâll get there.âÂ
Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio
âOn time? You better!â
Goddamn, heâs juggling too much right now.Â
As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak,Â
âWeâre already cutting it close with the prep.âÂ
Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, âFuck, we shouldâve been ready already.âÂ
âShit, I know.âÂ
âWe canât keep doing this.âÂ
âDude, relax, I get it.âÂ
âDo you? Cus this is⊠Fuck.âÂ
âYeah, yeah, weâll get it done but itâs gonna be tight. Hey, whereâs the⊠Damn it, whatâs it called?â
Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didnât think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he couldâve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. âThe what.âÂ
âThe⊠The overhead mic for the drums.âÂ
Of course, heâd repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them shouldâve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studioâs lack of experience is showing and itâs making him nervous.Â
And Yoongi still doesnât know whatâs going on with his best friend.Â
âWe need two overheads for drums,â he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And heâs about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz.Â
Dumbass: Incoming CallÂ
Of fucking course.Â
Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, âTheyâre somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so Iâll see yâall there.âÂ
âWait, where are theââ
Nope. Kookâs just gonna have to figure out whatever heâs asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen.Â
âHey.â Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? âIâm about to head out.âÂ
âDonât leave yet, Iâm coming.âÂ
âNo, justââYoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the barââYou good? I canât be late.âÂ
âDonât lie. Yâall are done, right?âÂ
Donât lie. Yoongi feels like hurling.Â
âWe got another project,â he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. âA bandâs coming in for a session.â
âShit.â
Thereâs a pause on the line. And itâs the first bit of silence Yoongiâs had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? Heâs very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, heâd be on the podium for both gold and silver.
âOkay, fine.âÂ
Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesnât know whatâs going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you.Â
Delusion is a great place to stay.
In any case, his friendâs behavior is alarming. Whatâs he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, âBut serious, are you okay?â
âI just⊠Tch. I canât even say it.â
He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. âWhatâs up,â he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home.Â
There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didnât in this universe, and heâd bet his whole life he doesnât in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadnât used them in months.   Â
Pained, Yoongi hopes youâre completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side.Â
âEverything, Yoong.âÂ
But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that youâre just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach.Â
So, so far away.Â
âThereâs a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess weâll have to wait.â
Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesnât know. âK.â
âJust lemme know when you get back.â
Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. âYeah, I will.âÂ
âNo running.â
âK.â
When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath heâs ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that.Â
âHow did that sound?âÂ
Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, âYâall wanna come hear it?âÂ
âWe can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.âÂ
Huh? Theyâre gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think itâd be better if theyâ
âOkay!â Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. âIf any of you need adjustments, let us know.âÂ
âYeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?âÂ
Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned.Â
Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.
Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasnât gone away, and there have been countless nights where heâs spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep.Â
Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leaveâ
âHey.â He turns. âYouâre good.âÂ
What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongiâs so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes.Â
Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. âYou have an ear.âÂ
Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongiâs done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitaristâinstruments heâs well-versed in.Â
Yet again, heâs so in his head that the man outright laughs, âRelax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.âÂ
âShit, my bad,â Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. âThanks.âÂ
âOf course.â Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. âWeâre open to anything. Weâd just tell you if your opinion sucks.âÂ
Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh.Â
âKidding. Only a little.â
Even though these people are world-renowned, theyâre the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.
Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.
Choosing not to say what he wants to.Â
Should he? Nah. These guys know what theyâre doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, itâs not his place. Far from it.Â
âŠBut what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?
Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought,Â
âDo the chorus again.âÂ
The whole studio stills. But all heâs looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, âSame way?âÂ
âUhm. No.â As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note,Â
âMm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.â When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. Thereâs no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. âItâll keep in time but hit harder.âÂ
Done. He said it.Â
And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame.Â
Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobiâs pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and heâll be the only reason whyâ
âWell, goddamn. Letâs try that then.âÂ
Huh. Theyâre gonna take that?Â
As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite.Â
The man hums the chorus with Yoongiâs notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, âYou heard him?â
âMmhmm.â
âYeah, we can try that.â
âWhy didnât you think of that, Woosung?â
Yoongi canât keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, âDamn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.â
âSammy wouldâve thought of it.â
Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod.Â
âLetâs see how it sounds.âÂ
âK.â
Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesnât know what to do. But when Yoongi canât see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.
A stare that lingers on him just a little too long.Â
The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongiâs relieved that they havenât asked him for anything else.Â
After all. He doesnât wanna push it, or step on Jungkookâs toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.
It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment.Â
Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you donât even know it.Â
âOkay, weâll take ten after this.â
Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, âOkay! Weâll save what we got!âÂ
Yoongiâs scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows itâs the kid without looking. âSup.â
âNothing.â
âYou sure.â
At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. âYeah, itâs nothing,â he clearly lies.Â
But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and theyâre both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation.Â
Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking.Â
Hustler: Incoming Câ
Shit. You wouldnât call him at work unless itâs urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window.Â
But fuck, he canât answer yet. Thereâs no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you donât wanna speak to right now, but heâd get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start.Â
Hoping to everything that Jungkook didnât happen to see what was on his screen.Â
As soon as everyone looks pleasedâthree takes and thirty minutes laterâYoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some.Â
Itâs been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, itâs no match for the atmosphere of his brain.Â
Pulling his hood over hair he hasnât cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that youâre good and didnât have to go through a version of his panic earlier.Â
Hustler: Outgoing CallÂ
Straight to voicemail? Shit.
Hustler: Outgoing Call
Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now.Â
Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying.Â
Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll.Â
Thatâs what he had to say? That wonât do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up.Â
Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?
Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell heâs getting into later.Â
Itâs not. Thereâs too much he needs to know.Â
Hustler: Outgoing CallÂ
When it doesnât ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.
Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhereârelaxed, silent, and taking a drag.Â
Shit. How much of that did he witness?
âBeen there,â the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, âIn trouble?â
Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, âMight be.âÂ
âDonât wanna commit anymore?âÂ
âI do,â Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has.Â
And itâs the first time heâs admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, âItâs just⊠Thereâs something I need to do first.âÂ
Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isnât something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? Itâs him, for fuckâs sake. But whatâs done is done. Woosung probably wonât even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didnât get a good read on him.Â
To Yoongiâs surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. âMmm⊠Something you need to do?â
Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he canât dip out, he sighs, âSome shit I wanna finish.â The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. âShit I need to get through.âÂ
An amused hum floats through empty space. âBeen there, too.âÂ
Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.
What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation?Â
No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has.Â
âLet me know if you ever need help,â Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. âWeâll be around again.âÂ
Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. âSerious?â
âYeah.â The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. âGot a good feeling about this place.â
What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean theyâll be back? To the studio? To the city? Whatâs happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response heâs capable of,
âItâs the food next door, huh.â
That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that heâd ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.
Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his bandâs album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isnât about music at all.
Finally, itâs time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. âDonât wait,â Woosung advises as he turns on his heel.Â
And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else.Â
âIf thereâs something you need to get through...âÂ
Stare, and stare, and stare some more.
âHit it until it breaks.â
Because heâs already aware. More than anyone.
As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongiâs gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.
And a reminder that heâs still a fucking coward.
Hours later, Yoongiâs car awaits him in the lot.Â
And when he realizes that you still havenât responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard.Â
Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, itâs always the same routine.Â
Both of them donât talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tvâor a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing.Â
But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, heâs pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others.Â
And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.
Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if theyâre already ready to lunge.
And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of somethingâliving room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom.Â
Fuck. Relax. Donât assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that heâs obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friendâs little sister.Â
And that he most definitely didnât eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country.Â
At least the television is already on. If it wasnât for that ambiance, Yoongiâs head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus.Â
Whatâs happened has happened. And whatâs going to happen will happen. Whether itâs a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all.Â
But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out heâs been in years.Â
Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, heâs scanning through his bottles with a fingerâan action heâs never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together.Â
Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesnât regain control thereâs no telling where this foreign road leads.
But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since itâs occupied rather than the living room sofa.Â
Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whiskyâs are ready. Yoongiâs already holding his. And your brother still hasnât moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on withâ
âI went to Jiminâs last night.â
âŠWhat.Â
Donât react. Heâs staring. Donât fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, âHow was it.â
His question is met with a laugh that isnât funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongiâs denial,
âCare to share whatâs been going on?â
Heâs sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. Thereâs no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brotherâs car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didnât see you while also not hearing from hiâ
âWhy her, Yoong? Hmm?â
Fuck!Â
Yoongi canât feel the air in his lungs. Because there isnât any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship heâs had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinningâ
Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongiâs palm feel infinitely more solid.
âI mean, fuck! After all the shit weâve been through? Youâre gonna go back to her?â
All theâshit, he canât evenâback to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first tiâ
Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.
And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as heâs taken down.Â
âCanât fucking believe you.â
When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, âListen, itâs my fauââ
âWhat, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldnât stay away?â
Oh, fuck that.Â
Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, âHow bout you use your fucking words already and Iâll tell you.â
âYeah? Is that what you want?â They are only a breath apart. But no oneâs going anywhere now. âNeed me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yoursââ
âSay itââ
âStop fucking your ex, dude!â
Yoongiâs back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.
âŠMotherfucker, what?
Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as heâs being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too.Â
âEveryone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?â
Nothing makes sense. This isnât about you? Yoongiâs heart canât even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and thereâs no way he can keep up at this pace.
His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think thatâs actually true?
âIf youâre gonna be with her, you can count me out.âÂ
No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. âThe fuck are you even sayingââ
âIâm not fucking joking, Yoong. If youâre seriously back with her thenââ
âLook, I donât know what the fuck you heard, but Iâm not.â
âSo everything I heard was a lie?â
âHuh?â
âHe told me!â
Heâwho? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because itâs not fucking true.
What the actual fuck. Itâs already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And itâs making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But itâs even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. Heâs coming at him so quick without even asking if itâs true.Â
The only silver liningâthe singular bright spot in this hellholeâis that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? Heâd be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.
âYou gonna say anything or what?âÂ
Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what heâs gonna do. But itâs for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything.Â
Even if it kills him.
âNo, I, ummâŠâÂ
âNo?âÂ
Just hurry up and fucking do it.Â
Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment thatâs haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. âItâsââ Fuck, he canât even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. âI...âÂ
His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. âYou what.â
What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesnât have to say anything. He really doesnât. But he can deflect. Itâs what heâs best at, after all. Heâs been doing it to you and he will do it again.
In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, âYou donât have to worry about that anymore.âÂ
âYou sure?â
Itâs true. More true than anything. âItâs over now.âÂ
A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears.Â
Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isnât witnessed.Â
Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink.Â
His ex?Â
As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going toâ
âSorry.â Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. âIâm so fucking stressed and hearing that last night justâŠâ
âItâs done.â Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, âBut something else is up with you so say it.â
It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,
âWork is shit,â he groans downward. âTheyâre having me travel again.âÂ
âDomestic?â
âYeah. But for longer. And I donâtâŠâ Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesnât want to mention the next problem.Â
When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, âI dunno know whatâs going on with my sister.â
Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. âYour sister?â
âYeah.â A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. âThe past few months, I feel like.. They havenât really been themselves.âÂ
A sudden crack splits him through.
âNot laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell itâs a front.. I donât know.âÂ
The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard.Â
No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, youâve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you mustâve put your feelings lightly.Â
Your wings. Youâve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongiâs heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.
And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.
âThey finally went out last night, but. Didnât come back until this morning.â Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. âSame clothes, dude.âÂ
And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. âMm.â
âI just⊠I know I suck at this, but. I donât know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.â Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue.Â
Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.
Not like he doesnât know how. Thatâs usually how he operates, anyway. Itâs hard to tell heâs struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want.Â
But right now? He doesnât think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions.Â
âLike I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, theyâre gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, itâs like..âÂ
Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, âAre they seeing someone?â
At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once,Â
âI think she feels all alone.âÂ
This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. Itâs almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes.Â
âAnd it sucks not knowing what to do.â
Yoongiâs heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him. Â
Youâre hurting. Your brotherâs hurting. And itâs all his goddamn fault. Why canât he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? Itâs clear that he hurt you. For months. Youâve been cheering for him that whole time while youâve been visibly broken and itâs all because of his dumbass decision toâ
âIâm heading out again.â
Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he canât seem to move anything else. âWhen.â
Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, âAfter our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.âÂ
âMm. Weâll still be here,â Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. âJust like last time.â
How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasnât been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face.Â
âThanks. I know itâs a lot for yâall but..â
Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. Itâs the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly.Â
On the run.
âDonât worry about that,â he vows into his drink. Honestly, if youâve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesnât blame you. Absolutely doesnât blame you if you realize youâre better than this. But Yoongiâs at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. âWe got it.âÂ
âK.â The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. âDid I ever mention that she liked you?â
Now whatâ Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, âWhat.â
At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, âDonât you fucking get any ideas. Jiminâs already on my shit list.â He scoffs out a laugh. âBut it was obvious when we were younger.â
And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesnât know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though heâs been the reason youâve been soâŠ
Yoongi almost fucking confesses.
âYouâre a good person,â he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, thatâs still on the table. âYou donât suck at what you think you do.â
âYou think so?â
âWhy wouldnât I?âÂ
The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much heâs overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldnât be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayalâŠÂ
Unprecedented. Â
âYouâre the best out of all of us.âÂ
Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isnât doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.
And they both share a drink in respectful silence.Â
After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. âGuess we did shape up pretty nice.â When heâs agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. âWe were so fucking bad.â
Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. âOld me was a little shit.â
âYou still are.â
âSays you!â
âI still am, too!â
Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck.Â
After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that heâs gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,
âBreak up with her, Yoong.âÂ
Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. âItâs not like that.âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
âItâs over now.âÂ
âFor good?â As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. âI was about to drive over and break down the door.â
Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he canât help but imagine what couldâve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills.Â
âSerious. Iâm gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.â He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. âIâm sure it was good at first, but I mean⊠You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.âÂ
Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. âI guess.âÂ
âYou sure itâs over?â
âYeah,â he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. âIt is.âÂ
âGood.â Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice,Â
âThen get rid of that fucking guitar.âÂ
Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success.Â
Get rid of it? Heâs been trying.Â
For three. Fucking. Months.Â
âI might.âÂ
ââŠK.âÂ
And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot heâs kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever heâs tried to throw it out. And aside from the times heâs made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.
Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.
Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands.Â
Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.
But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.
And he doesnât have the strength to go get it.Â
What time is it?Â
All that greets him is darkness.Â
Nothing new, but darkness all the same.Â
Why was she mentioned? What does that mean?Â
He needs to call you. Heâs lying to his best friend.Â
Her? You. His sheets still smell like you.Â
Inhale. Breathe. Inhale.Â
He needs to call you. But heâs so, so tired.Â
And the darkness pulls him back under.Â
Without even telling him the time.Â
Buzzing.Â
Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongiâs eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck?Â
Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heartâs beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened.Â
Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone.Â
Hustler: Missed Calls (6)
Dumbass: 1 Message
Hustler: 3 MessagesÂ
Chim: 7 Messages  Â
Chim: Missed Calls (3)Â
Holy fuck.Â
With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heartâs a little disappointed it wasnât you calling just now, but itâs probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn.Â
âOh, fuck. There you are.âÂ
âMm.âÂ
âDonât scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive overââÂ
âItâs fine,â he juts in. âWhatâs up.âÂ
Alright, maybe he shouldnât be an asshole. Thereâs no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jiminâs just being himself, for fuckâs sake.Â
âI, umm. I wanted to tell you Iâm sorry.âÂ
Now thatâs not what Yoongi expected at all. âFor what?âÂ
Thereâs another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears.Â
âI⊠I got so drunk last night, IâAnd Iââ
Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesnât need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about.Â
âHe was looking for her, Yoong, and you werenât there, either. He had this look, IâI couldnât think of anything else to say in the moment and I told himââ
Jimin canât even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut.Â
Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesnât like hearing people cry. At least, if they donât deserve to or donât deserve to be sadâor if theyâre you. He could care less about the rest.
But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.
So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm.Â
âIâm an idiot. Iâm sorry.âÂ
Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and itâs going to take all of him to quell this tempest.Â
Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasnât for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.
But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He couldâve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself.Â
âDonât worry about it,â he finally rasps out. âItâs just been a fuckinâ day.âÂ
Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures heâs opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.
âSame. Gah, I just⊠I shouldâve warned you. I didnât know he went over there.âÂ
âHe told you?âÂ
âI called him after you didnât answer earlier.âÂ
âOh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.âÂ
âAh.âÂ
Something shuts before thereâs a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking.Â
âI really am sorry. What did you end up saying?âÂ
âThat itâs done.âÂ
A hum.Â
âThatâs very true.âÂ
Thereâs a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesnât feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, âPractice still on tomorrow?âÂ
When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.
âAh, someone actually ready to go for once?âÂ
âYeah. The plan is to make this game quick.âÂ
A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows,Â
âMm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.âÂ
What the hell does that even mean? âHuh?âÂ
âIâll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.â
Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. âAll these years and youâve never given me a straight answer.âÂ
âWhereâs the fun in that?âÂ
âKnowing the answer.âÂ
At least Jiminâs back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesnât have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake.Â
âYouâll know it when you see it.âÂ
âAnnoying.â
âLove you, too!âÂ
Yoongiâs huff billows through his nose, and Jiminâs energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table.Â
Ehh. Heâll leave it alone. Heâs been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongiâs brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? âWait, is it really three?âÂ
âHuh? Yeah. Iâm telling you, dude, I was getting worried.âÂ
He was really about to drive over? âSorry. I really did just pass out.âÂ
âMm. Well, Iâm gonna go do that now.âÂ
âK. Same time tomorrow?âÂ
âAh, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.âÂ
That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. âSeriously, what did you get?âÂ
âRelax! You will like it.âÂ
âChim, I swearââ
âYouâll thank me later bye!â
As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.
Exactly where he always ends up.Â
Exactly where he doesnât want to be.Â
But now that heâs done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again.Â
Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too?Â
Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge itđ heâs not home so call whenever Â
Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter.Â
He very much wouldâve rather been in your bed with you all day.Â
That sounds like fucking bliss.Â
Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but heâs home now. are you ok?? idk whatâs going on with him but i think we need to be careful
Shit, Yoongi didnât get to tell you. Youâve probably been worried about that every second youâve been awake today.Â
And he couldnât even make it out of his goddamn room to help.Â
All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance?Â
Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you
Fucking hell.
Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way.Â
Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesnât deserve youâŠ
All he wants to do is see you, too.Â
Youâve been more than he ever wouldâve imaginedâyour consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when youâd look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy.Â
After all this time. All these days and nights.Â
You still donât realize that he was destined to orbit you. Â
Itâs been decided long before his mind was made upâat least, the part of him that doesnât traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where heâs drifted or which direction heâs gone in. All of them lead back into your arms.Â
But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on whatâs left.Â
He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you donât have to settle for him. Itâs good now, but youâll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds.Â
How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice.Â
Just like everyone else, youâll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more.Â
Something that isnât broken.Â
Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table.Â
What. No way.Â
From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark.Â
And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen.Â
Hustler: Incoming CallÂ
But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.
And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight.Â
âAre we⊠is this over?âÂ
Fuck.
âI get it, if we are. If youâif you donât wanna do this with me anymore.âÂ
Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. âHold up,â Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. âWhatâs going on?âÂ
âI thought⊠When you werenât picking up, Iââ
âBreathe, babe,â Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. âI passed out before you called. Thatâs it.âÂ
âOh. Shit, I really thoughtââ
âYou would know,â he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? Thereâs no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he canât fight himself. âYou would know if I was done.âÂ
Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside.Â
âAre you? With me?âÂ
Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud,Â
âNo way in hell, doll.âÂ
Please. Donât cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. Thereâs only so much he can take before heâs grabbing his keys and speeding overâfriends and brothers be damned.Â
âOkay⊠Iâm just. Itâs been a day.âÂ
Thatâs okay.Â
Because heâs had a day, too.Â
âI donât wanna bother you with it, though, itâs so late.âÂ
Please keep going.Â
Please donât leave him alone.Â
âTalk to me.âÂ
Like a gentle stream, your recapâthough not idealâwashes away the weariness from Yoongiâs eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit.Â
Youâre so good at that.Â
âWell. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I donât know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, itâ. It sucks because heâs going on a trip soon and I donât wanna stress him out even more but IââÂ
Shit, youâve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You donât know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course youâd be considerate, even now. Thatâs just who you are.
âI, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I donât wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just wonât say it? Fuck, sorry, Iâm trying notâtoââ Â
The phone goes mute, and Yoongiâs head suddenly weighs ten times heavier.Â
âHe doesnât know, babe,â he soothes, hating how he canât be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky.Â
If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. Thatâs all he fucking is.Â
The only one he seems to be strong for is you. âHe came over earlier.âÂ
âFuck, really?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it.Â
âWhat did he say?âÂ
Shit. Youâll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You donât need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They arenât yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because heâs the reason for them in the first place. âNothing about us.âÂ
âOh, thank fuck.âÂ
Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You couldâve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. âSo donât worry, doll.âÂ
âOkay. What about you? Are you okay?âÂ
Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. Itâs almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he wonât bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One thatâs always true and will continue to be so. âJust wanna see you.âÂ
And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Donât. Donât cry.
âMe, too, baby.âÂ
Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi canât handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter.Â
Fuck everything. Heâs gonna find a way to do this. All of it.
âIâll figure it out.â
âYou will?â
Heâll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother.Â
âJust a little longer.â
He has to.
âOkay.â
Neither of you deserve this. And he doesnât deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, itâs only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too.Â
âThank you.â
What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen.Â
âFor putting up with me.â
Oh. Of course youâd assume youâre the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who wouldâve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours.Â
At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. âThis has been the highlight of my day, doll,â he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.
âReally?â
Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. âOne of them. But youâll hear about the other one later.â
âBoo.â
Cute. Wait, isnât it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. Itâs a miracle you reached out when you did. âDonât you have to be up soon?â
âA ha⊠Yeah.âÂ
âWhat are you still talking to me for?âÂ
âI miss you.âÂ
Well. Thatâs not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms.Â
Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. âDonât do that.âÂ
âDonât do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.â Â
God. Youâre getting too fucking good at this. Heâs gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. âJust a bad night to say it, doll.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
Perfect. âCus Iâm willing to get in the car.âÂ
âFuck.âÂ
Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, âWanna try again?âÂ
He knows youâre gonna say no. Even though your brother doesnât know, itâs definitely not a proper time to sneak you outâas much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house⊠Maybe thereâs another version of you both out there thatâs done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.
âI hate you.âÂ
Yoongi shouldâve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. âThatâs better.âÂ
âHa ha.âÂ
Youâre smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and heâs determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. âI miss you, too, babe,â he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink.Â
âNu uh! You hate me, too.âÂ
Wait. Did youâŠ
Did you just pout?Â
Hell no, thatâs outright cheating. Thatâs when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, âNah, Iâm going to sleep.âÂ
âWait, huh? Why!âÂ
âNothing.âÂ
âI swear to godââÂ
âNothing at all,â Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. Itâs a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear,Â
âGetting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?âÂ
The smallest smile graces his face. âGuess.âÂ
âKitchen.âÂ
The hell? âHowâd you know?âÂ
âYouâre always in there.âÂ
Canât deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongiâs amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, âYou like to keep me in here.âÂ
âIt does seem to be where we end up, huh?âÂ
âIt does.â Which is fine by him. Heâll never forget all the times youâve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all.Â
âThe world said let them cook.âÂ
Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he canât wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game.Â
But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you.Â
âGo to sleep, doll,â he huffs with full cheeks.Â
After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing,Â
âYou better sleep, too.â
âI will.âÂ
With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep wonât be an issue.Â
Because of you. Itâs always you.Â
Maybe thereâs a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. âTalk to you tomorrow, babe.â
âIâd like that. And youâre sure he doesnât know?â
Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, âIâm sure.âÂ
There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, youâll just have to trust that heâs telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves.Â
âOkay. Good night, baby.â
One more heartbeat to get him through the night.Â
âNight, doll.â
When the phone cuts, Yoongiâs hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room.Â
Right towards the corner that stares back.Â
Itâs been five days.
But it feels like youâve aged twenty-eight years.
Ever since your brother confronted youâafter your much needed reunion with his best friendâyouâve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit.Â
And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didnât say anything concerning your relationship, you still havenât shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who youâre with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel⊠Strange.Â
When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door.Â
âŠSo what in the fuck was that?
You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress.Â
Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now youâre spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if heâs just biding time? Heâs not just thinking about what to do with you.Â
Heâs thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too.Â
This is so hard.Â
The only thingâthe only thingâkeeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself.Â
Ever since the call you never thought heâd answer, youâve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually. Â
Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it wonât let me sleep lmaooo
Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it youâre getting all the updates :)Â
No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And itâs been⊠Really nice. If you didnât have your brotherâs shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect.Â
Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.
So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.
Only one person has ever sent you food while youâre at work. And staring inside the parcel, you wouldâve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.
Thereâs a small note on top of a to-go containerâone that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkookâs studio.Â
What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didnât wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you canât even read.
Tonight. Â
This man.
I got the next one.
This wonderful, charming man.Â
But youâre getting what I need so hereâs the list:
Goddamn it, Min Yoongi.Â
Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before theyâre hastily swiped.Â
After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.
The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further.Â
A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldnât care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.
Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesnât know already. Fuck.
Youâve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds.Â
And you donât know how youâre gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep.Â
Regardless, thatâs in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.
Tonight. Heâs gonna cook for you?
Youâll have the first substantial meal youâve had in months.
Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. Thereâs a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week.Â
Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.
Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them.Â
Yoongi: Outgoing CallÂ
When he picks up, you legitimately donât answer. Because even after all this time, you still canât quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly.Â
âHey.âÂ
All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like theyâre currently smushed together in your fingers.Â
But you donât snap out of this trance until he speaks again.Â
âHello?âÂ
âHi,â you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. âHi, sorry. I just umm.âÂ
You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. âThank you for the food. Iâm off work now so Iâm heading to the store.âÂ
He simply huffs a quiet laugh.
âGet whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.âÂ
Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. Youâre close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. âOh, I definitely will,â you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. âAnd donât worry about that, I got it.âÂ
âYou sure?âÂ
âYeah! I got big girl money now.âÂ
Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker?Â
âItâs like that? Maybe I should work there, too.âÂ
âOh, youâd hate it,â you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. âIâm actually pretty bossy here.â
The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal.Â
âThat is literally what Iâve been wanting to see.âÂ
Itâs your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what heâs asking for. âIâm only that way at work, though.âÂ
âDo better.âÂ
Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. âNever mind, youâre paying. And Iâm getting stuff for dessert now, too.âÂ
âWhat? Who said anything about dessert?âÂ
âMe,â you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough toâÂ
âIâm starting to regret this.â
âRegret what?â
âEverything.â
Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. âCanât fool me. Youâre excited.â
âI am.â
The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But itâs partly because you thought youâd be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. âWell, good,â you state while checking your mirrors. âCus I am, too.âÂ
âThatâs a given, though.â
âExcuse you.â
Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching.Â
âMm, babe. One more thing.âÂ
Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? âHmm?â
Thereâs a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possiblyâ
âI think weâre out of condoms.âÂ
Who is out of what. If you werenât still at a red, your foot wouldâve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head.Â
âWait. Or are we?â
Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, âAre you just fucking with me?â
And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green,Â
âYeah. Thatâs why weâre out ofââ
âAlright!â you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. âGuess Iâll, umm. Get those, too.â
âNah, you donât have to.â
âOh. Found some?â
âNo.â
Wait. If he didnât find some why is he telling you that you donât have toâ âOh,â you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. âGoddamn it, youâre too distracting now, bye.â
And he finally breaks with laughter thatâs contagious as hell. Which isnât fair when youâre pretending to be upset with him. Even when you canât see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when heâs packed with happiness.Â
And you want that to be the case forever.Â
âYouâre just lucky Iâm not there with you.âÂ
âYeah, youâd be annoying as hell.âÂ
âDamn!âÂ
As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.Â
âTo be fair,â you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that thereâs no wrong answer here, you softly admit, âI really do wanna get groceries with you.âÂ
Thereâs no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you donât really know for sureâ
âItâs gonna happen, doll.âÂ
You clutch the wheel.
âCus I want that, too.â
One of these days youâre gonna see this damn cat again.Â
Foot connecting with Yoongiâs door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your armsâsecond trips be damned.Â
It doesnât take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesnât even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. Itâs so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too.Â
âThanks for getting all this,â Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile. Â
âOf course.â Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. âLetâs put this up before I yell at you.â
His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. âFor what!âÂ
âSent me everywhere to find some of this shit.âÂ
âYou couldâve asked somebody.âÂ
Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering.Â
And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.
But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver.Â
âWhat about it,â you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. âYou said youâwe were out, soâŠâÂ
âThatâs a big box, doll,â he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. âGot something you wanna say?âÂ
âNope,â you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? âAlthough I will say it took me forever to pick out whatââ
Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because youâve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him.Â
And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that heâs been waiting for this, too.Â
Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection.Â
âAs much as I wanna throw you on my bed,â Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. âIâm taking you somewhere.âÂ
And youâre so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. âHuh? Weâre leaving?â
âUh huh.â
Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said heâs getting the next one? Youâre going out to eat? Together? No. No, thereâs no way. Yoongi knows thatâs the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. âAre you sure? What about dinner? Wonât people⊠You know.â
âItâs ready already,â he reveals. âBy the door.âÂ
Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you canât see through the bar. âReally?â No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink?Â
But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! âThen what the hell was the run for?â
Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, âI told you to get what I needed.âÂ
Your turn to blink.
âAnd I needed food.â
This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, âOh, youââÂ
âSo thanks,â he quips through another tilt of his lips. âLetâs go, doll.âÂ
The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen.Â
âEat.â
The container on your thighs warms you through. âNow?â
âMm.â
âI can wait,â you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. âWe can eat together.âÂ
âJust a bite then.âÂ
Turning to Yoongi, you donât see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try.Â
Thereâs no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. âFuck, this is good.âÂ
Your borderline moan sends Yoongiâs shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. âSorry.â Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. âI donât react like that unless Iâm alone.â
âI donât mind.â
âYeah, well,â you swallow. âCourse you donât.â
A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you donât expect what he offers next, âJust be you, doll. Itâs just me.â
The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. âOh,â you murmur. âSame for you then.â
âNah.â
âWhy not?â
âCus we wouldnât make it to where weâre going.â
That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, âYou fucker.â
His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. âIâm sorry,â he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze.Â
What is that look? Werenât you both just having a good time? âFor what, baby?âÂ
âEverything.âÂ
Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell youâre going. âOh.âÂ
Yoongi still doesnât look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes youâre still so shy of. âI, umm. I didnât expect shit to pan out this way.âÂ
âItâs okay,â you whisper.Â
After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. âIâve just thought about some things,â he starts, another song playing. âHow worried you mustâve been.âÂ
You look forward. Because this is the part where you canât face him. âI was. But not for the same reason as last time.â Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold.Â
âI was worried about you,â you correct with softness. âIt was hard because I didnât know what to do.â Donât fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. âWhen you started not really saying much, I just⊠Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.âÂ
You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when itâs kissed, you donât know what the hell to fucking do.Â
âIâm sorry, doll,â Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. âI wonât leave you hanging like that again.âÂ
Thereâs a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. âOh. Umm. Thank you.â What else do you say? Yoongiâs being wonderful, but why do you feel⊠sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? âWere you worried?âÂ
âMe? Umm.â He stops at a light that he clearly didnât want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.
And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too.Â
ââŠYeah.âÂ
Fuck. âAbout what?âÂ
âThat youâd hate me.âÂ
Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. âYoongi.âÂ
âOr that you shouldnât be with someone thatâs gone this much.âÂ
Fuck, heâs doing it again. Regressing. Youâve seen it happen in his kitchen and youâll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isnât gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue whatâs been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying.Â
âIâm used to people leaving,â you joke, but not really. âLike seasons.âÂ
He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. Youâve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that youâre getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. âI know itâs weird, but..âÂ
Heâs quiet as the light turns green. And when you donât finish, he admits, âI think the same.âÂ
âYou do?âÂ
Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. âMmhmm.âÂ
âWell.â Thatâs interesting. You didnât know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if thereâs anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if theyâve been syncing up all this time. âAt least you come back.âÂ
Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. Youâre so wrapped up in his gesture that you donât catch what he whispers.Â
âHmm?âÂ
He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh.Â
âAlways, doll.âÂ
And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you donât hide how you press your feelings into his skin. âMe, too.âÂ
If you werenât lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongiâs look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same.Â
The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you donât even realize that youâve been on the road for a really long time.Â
But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and youâre haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center?Â
Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. âWhatâs this?âÂ
âWhere weâre going.â
Hold on, youâre going inside? âAre we even allowed to be here?â
When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. âCanât say for sure, no.â
âThen whyââ
He unlocks before you can finish, and youâre left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost donât hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward.Â
But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lipâin nervousness or excitement, you canât decide.
âYou cominâ?â
Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And itâs much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens⊠Whatever.Â
Your mouth finally unsticks. âIf we get caught, youâre gonna pay for this.â
And you canât resist his stupid grin. âNow get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.âÂ
âYoongi!â
Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else.Â
Wait. Is that what you think it is? âDid you always have that in there?â you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongiâs using to air up his basketball.
And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. âYou liar!â Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. âI had to change up my plans because of you!â
Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. âAnd I got to see you,â he proudly claims. âSo Iâll take it.â
You hate how the memories come packaged with whatâs haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But thereâs no way youâre gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical.Â
So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. âGot to see you, too,â you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. âYou and your stupid hair.â
Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump.Â
How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair.Â
After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongiâs done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him.Â
What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. âAre we really going in?â
Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. âYeah. Why not?â
âOh.â You didnât think youâd actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it wouldâve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? âNo reason.â
âSo I shouldnât bust in?â
Huh. âWhat?â
âIâve already done it a few times, so.â
âWait!â Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. âWhat if someone sees us?â
Heâs so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? Youâre not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath.Â
Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, âThey wonât, doll.â
âAre you sure? If we get caught here theyâre gonna call the police and I am definitely not⊠GonnaâŠâ
The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keysâkeysâstare you in the face.Â
What is it with him and keys?Â
When Yoongi speaks, you feel like youâve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous,Â
âYou picked the wrong night to be a good girl.â
You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage.Â
How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. Heâs way too good at destroying you.
When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesnât need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!
A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. âHmm?â
With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, itâs only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, youâre packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. âYouâve been waiting to do that, huh.âÂ
âSo fucking long.â
You are not surviving the night. And you donât give a single shit.
But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safeâeven in a faraway, dark building that youâve never been in before. Thatâs gotta say something about him, right?Â
Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though heâs securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.
âYouâre in the way,â he jokes through what you think is a smile, and youâre about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.
Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongiâs grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while youâre stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.
Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? Heâs so fucking handsome like this. No wonder heâs pulled so many hearts just like yours.Â
When you still donât find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,
âYouâre so cute.â
âHow,â you ask just as softly.
And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. âJust are.â
Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.
But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile,Â
âEat.â
âHuh?â
âEat, doll,â he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.
When you call out that he hasnât eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.
Which is impossible. Because theyâre bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.
If you werenât already sitting down you wouldâve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit heâs walking over!Â
Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isnât aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.
And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongiâs taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay heâs handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.
The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.
âRelax,â he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. âNo need to worry.âÂ
And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.
âŠDid all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about.Â
No matter what he doesâsimple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ballâyouâre so enthralled with his actions that you forget that youâre not supposed to be here.Â
And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you donât think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio.Â
Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma.Â
But thereâs another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how heâs actually going hard. Yoongiâs really good right now. A lot better than what youâve seen of him before.Â
Has he been coming here more often than heâs let on? And why does he look so⊠serious? Youâd be surprised if he even remembered youâre here.Â
Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices youâre courtside.
And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome andâ âWait, youâre all sweaââ
Youâre pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though youâre technically already there.Â
âSweaty,â you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeperâbreathing, inhaling, taking you in. âGross.â
âThanks.âÂ
You flash a smile against Yoongiâs lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain couldâve conjured on its own. When you ask why heâs going so hard, all you get is a question in return,
âYouâre perfect, you know that?âÂ
Huh? Blinking, you suddenly donât remember your own train of thought. âWhat did I do?âÂ
âNothing.â He presses a wet mouth to your nose. âDid you eat?â
Laughing, you reassure him, âI did, I did.âÂ
âGood. You bored?â Â
âHuh?â
Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say heâs approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. âThought you came over cus you wanna leave.â
âAnd stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.â You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. âJust checking on you.â Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use.Â
You could do this for eternity, too.
âWell I got about five more minutes in me, so..â
This man.Â
âForever might be a stretch.âÂ
âAh, shut up. Here,â you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take.Â
âThanks.â When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness.Â
So unfair. âYou looked like you were going pretty hard.âÂ
Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. âI kinda was.âÂ
âIt was kinda hot.âÂ
His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. âNah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. Itâs been one of those things.âÂ
Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he couldâve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. Itâs nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly whatâs on your mind, âYou can always bring me, too. If you want.âÂ
And itâs true. You donât really have to do much when youâre with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood.Â
But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history.Â
When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? âI didnât wanna bother you with this,â he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. âI donât even put music on.âÂ
âYou never bother me,â you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. âEven if youâre being annoying.âÂ
The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and thereâs a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. âYou wonât be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.âÂ
âAnd why is that?â
âCus of what Iâm wearing.âÂ
And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. âOh,â you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. âAs if.â
Well, fuck. You donât enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon youâre gonna run into tomorrow. âDonât say I didnât warn you.â He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. âWe can go soon, by the way.â
âOkay.â
But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. âUnless,â he teases. âYou wanna play me.â
âWhat.â
His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. âYou told me youâd win, so. Letâs see it.â
You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you canât even recall a time or place youâd tell him something so bold. âWhen!â
âRight after you woke up once. Said youâre a master?â
Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember?Â
âOh. Well.â Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. âWouldnât wanna throw you off your game before a championship.âÂ
âUh huh.â
âIâd make you cry what the fuck!âÂ
Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. âThink you got something on your face, doll.â
âYoongi!â What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. âNu uh, gimme that!â
âItâs mine, I just ran outââ
âBitch!â You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands.Â
And itâs a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks.Â
Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. âFuck!âÂ
âUh huh.âÂ
You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and youâre temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around.Â
Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. âI canât believe, you got me to do that,â you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else.Â
Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongiâs skin caging you with radiating heat. Â
You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in.Â
Everything in your being pulses hard. Itâs so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before youâre even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front,Â
âCareful, doll.â
âHmm?â You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. âWhat was that?âÂ
More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, âFuck around and find out then.âÂ
Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but youâre so preoccupied that you donât notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. âYooâ!â
âUnless.â He leans forward. âMy babyâs too scared.âÂ
Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where youâre gonna watch him play tomorrow? You donât know why the fuck thatâs attractive as hell, but it is.Â
Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return.Â
âFuck it, weâre leaving.âÂ
âHuh?â Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state.Â
âFuck this. Iâm taking you home.âÂ
For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, thereâs a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you donât have any reason for it yet.Â
At least this is another rec center entirely. Because thereâs no way you wouldâve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before.Â
But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills.Â
Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for⊠Wait. Thatâs your brother under the basket. Thatâs them?Â
Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.
Because youâll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.
But team jerseys?Â
Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage.Â
When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone?Â
As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldnât be here.Â
Yes, youâre gonna stay and yes, youâre gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second.Â
Shit, shit, shit. Youâre gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyungâs teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.
Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue.Â
They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about?Â
Sighing, you turn. âGuess Iâll go see what they want.âÂ
âHere,â Tae offers his hand. âIâll save you a seat.âÂ
Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if youâre even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jiminâs grin can be seen from miles away. âCome here!âÂ
You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But youâre so puzzled as to why thereâs no one on the other side of the court yet because isnât the game about to start?Â
Whereâs the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. âWhatâs up?âÂ
Jiminâs eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. âCan you keep score?âÂ
âMe?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
âWhy me?âÂ
Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. âThe girl that usually does it for us is sick.âÂ
âAnd you know the game,â Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?
Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, âYou arenât gonna cover those?â
âNah. Not today,â the man elongates in a stretch. âJust got another one. This one!âÂ
Ah, you were right. âI like it.âÂ
Jimin couldnât look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. âCanât yâall find someone else to keep score?âÂ
âWe donât think anyone else can,â your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. âAt least, not the people coming to watch us.âÂ
Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? âWell. I donât really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.âÂ
When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, âTold you.âÂ
Youâre sticking with that. If youâre gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, theyâre gonna pay⊠you⊠somehow.
A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead.Â
And suddenly this temporary gig doesnât seem terrible in the slightest.Â
Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You wonât have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair thatâs gotten criminally long.Â
âIâll get us all dinner,â your sibling slices through your thoughts. âAfter we win.â Â
âFine,â you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. âThen I get to pââ
The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater.Â
Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes.Â
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.Â
You donât notice the way Jiminâs hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother.Â
All you can do is stare back.Â
And without even realizing.Â
Youâre already rubbing your arm.
-
-
tbc. :((
-
a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!
a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go.
a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too.
++ feedback box:
â„ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
â„ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
â„ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. itâs literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as youâd like!
â„ here!
++
more links:
â„Â masterlistÂ
â„Â three tangerines masterlist
2K notes
·
View notes
First off I LOVE your writing, Iâm so happy youâre taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like thatđ„čđźâđšïżœïżœđđ» feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!đâš
Youâre awesome đ„°đ
Blood Was Its Avatar
PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)
WORD COUNT: 8.9k
WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.
A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
All of Ghostâs problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.Â
They call you âMasqueâ on account of the mission from years back, â07 Ghost recalls easily. When youâd been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. Youâd chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radioârooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.Â
You pretended to be dead.Â
Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when youâd gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.Â
Youâd cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.
âBlood was its Avatar and its sealâthe redness and the horror of blood.â The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.
Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.
As he knewâall of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.
âDamn! Lookinâ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?â You were always soâŠbubbly.Â
âMasque,â the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Priceâs computerâbroadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.Â
Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.Â
You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues insteadâyour tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.
Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, âI asked if you got new gloves; theyâre nice.âÂ
âNeeded âem.â Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.Â
A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.Â
Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.
âThatâs it?â He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, âNo attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.â
You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.Â
âThen suffer.â Ghost states like heâs reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? âIâm not fuckinâ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.â
âItâs called a conversation starter!â Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this. Â
âFor who? Could have jusâ stayed quiet, then.â Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge himâpointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghostâs muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.Â
A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.
âAlright,â Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenantâs ears were ringing and annoyance faired. âFucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealinâ.âÂ
You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.
âJeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?â The air rolls with tension.
âMore effective than torture.â Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offenseâyouâd been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.Â
On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it heâd survived it.Â
But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed withâŠand clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.
Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.Â
You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.Â
âWhatâs Price got for us today, then?â Your voice echoes, âWe shipping out with the others or going Black again?âÂ
The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reasonâGhost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.Â
Missions were rarely a failure.Â
Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. âBlack,â he begins, âleast for us. Old Manâs sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawinâ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the backâoff the books, âcourse.âÂ
He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.
âWell, of course,â you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. âAre we getting any soldiers?âÂ
âNone. Just us.âÂ
âOoo,â Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. âSounds like fun.â
âIt sounds like Iâm going to have to babysit again,â you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.
âOh, please,â you chuckle, âIâve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.â
âNice isnât in the job description, Masque.âÂ
âWell, it isnât for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.â Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. âBut thatâs alright, I like you anyways.â Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.Â
Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes heâd already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mindâs eye the stains of blood and that every present smileâthe burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasnât some form of obsession. It was worry; heâd seen it.Â
You didnât like it when you couldnât see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.Â
In fact, heâd noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where heâd given you the cold shoulder after. He didnât like that feeling. That hesitation.Â
Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had toâŠso why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.Â
Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.Â
Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.Â
â
You begin to wonder when youâll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how youâd be getting covered in it.
Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. Youâre in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrierâthe entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.Â
Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.Â
âNo bullet fragmentsâlucky you.âÂ
Ghost forces out, âYeah, feelinâ proper lucky.â You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate youâd put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.Â
The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghostâs flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and youâre suddenly very aware of the position youâre in.Â
Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.
It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks awayâdirectly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeantsâ in plain sight.Â
Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.Â
Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wallâskull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.Â
Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadnât had time to dodge. That wasnât Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasnât quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.
âYouâre a fool, you know that?â You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. âYou should have looked after yourself.â
âAnd what?â Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. âLet you get fuckinâ shot, Masqueâyou have a bloody death wish?â His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.Â
His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.
You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when youâd asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happenâheâs a soldier after all, just like you.
But he hadnât denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. Heâd never said why.Â
You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghostâs heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.
âKeep bloody going then,â He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why youâre feeling so feverish all of a sudden.Â
You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forcepsâdropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life youâre left mute by his actions.Â
Mute to the fact that youâd liked them.Â
Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. Itâs only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.
âShouldnât have taken that bullet, Ghost.â He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.Â
Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.Â
âYou were distracted. That never happens.â His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesnât even flinch.Â
Ever since â07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadnât already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.
Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.Â
But this sentiment was knownâboth the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasnât good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didnât like it when he got hurt in front of you.Â
Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when heâd seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.Â
His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.Â
This couldnât continue.Â
Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it youâre being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.Â
âGhost!â You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feetâblood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. âWhat the fuck?! Iâm not done with it.âÂ
Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.Â
You blink. Heâd only ever looked at you like that when youâd first met.Â
Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.Â
Why was he looking at you like he didnât know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, âGhost?âÂ
âEnough.â His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. WhatâŠwhat was this? âYou need to get your head back on, Masque. I canât watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?âÂ
Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. Thereâs a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.
A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do thisâkeep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.Â
Ghostâs accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. âPriceâll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.âÂ
He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burningâunable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.Â
The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.Â
When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after heâd pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.Â
He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghostâs eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhinoâs armored plates.
Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything heâd expected to experience.
Ghost didnât want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.
â
When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each otherâit was in your nature to do soâbut this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, butâŠnever to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.Â
Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.Â
If Ghost didnât want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.Â
On the second week, it got easier.Â
You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.Â
âFuckinâ âell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?â You donât answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.Â
Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.Â
Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.Â
The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after youâd been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you wereâŠ
Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as heâd shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadnât thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.Â
He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through himâshivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.Â
Ghostâs hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.Â
The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.Â
You both were becoming tooâŠ.attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was justâŠwas justâŠ
â...Those new tags, then?â You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.Â
Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesnât look your way.
âThat an apology?â Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.Â
The room returns to strained silence. You huff.
âPretty shitty one there, asshat.â Ghostâs shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over timeâit was becoming a detriment to the team.
The Lieutenantâs blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.Â
All of Ghostâs problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. Theyâd been there in the back corners ever since heâd given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thighâŠtrailing up...Â
Ghostâs pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.Â
âWhy canât I get you out of my fucking head?â Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, âEvery bloody thought, youâre right there!âÂ
His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghostâs, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.
You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghostâs thumb digs into your scalp.Â
âAnswer me, Masque,â he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.Â
Ghostâs nose is close to yours; breathing in each otherâs air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you donât respondâsmall sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.
The Britâs dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.Â
You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.Â
âIs this your apology?â He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.Â
âYou fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,â Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. âYouâre playinâ me.â You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.Â
You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.
Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.Â
âYou liked me in between your legs, didnât you?â Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.Â
âShut it,â Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, âShut your damn mouth.âÂ
Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.Â
âI already know why you snapped at meâŠâ One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenantâs front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.Â
Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrilsâyou enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.Â
After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.
You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghostâs clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.Â
â...You canât get enough of me touching you, can you?â Your statement ignites something immediately, and youâre being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.Â
Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you thereâlegs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.
The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.
He watches you for a minute or twoâtaking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.Â
You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.
âYou going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?â Heâs up and locking the door after he slims it shut.
âThis is it,â Ghost grunts, âone time, Masque. Thatâs fucking it, you hear?âÂ
âAwe,â You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. âThat's so cute. You think once is enough.âÂ
A hand captures your jaw, âI said,â he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghostâs musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. â...Shut it.â
Hard lips slam into yours.
Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghostâs lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple fleshâthereâs a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.
Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.Â
He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chinâangling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.Â
Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to himâyour taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time heâd traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.
âOh, fuck,â you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenantâs shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.
His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, âGet on your knees.âÂ
Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you donât realize it.Â
As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what heâs done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two stepsâfeet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.Â
Thereâs a small, heart-pounding, pause. â...Good girl.â
Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghostâs face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.Â
âNow you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.â Ghostâs hands slowly trail to his pantâs zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You canât even look away from itâhow his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.
Ghost had tattoos.Â
When the teeth had run out and the manâs hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, youâd found out youâd been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghostâs and the black stain of his face-paint.Â
âFuckinâ hell, Masque,â he grunts, knuckles white and going still, âbet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I âavenât even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thingâll âave to wait, Iâm puttinâ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.â
You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesnât notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quicklyâeager and dripping to be down your throat.Â
The throat and mouth heâd fantasized about for ages.Â
Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghostâs cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.Â
âPut to good use?â You breathe out, âChrist, youâre going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.âÂ
âWell, Sweetheart,â he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. âThatâll be fine by me. Donât need you speaking when Iâm paintinâ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?âÂ
Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.Â
You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.Â
Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.Â
âOi, fucking focus.â Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghostâs finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. âLittle brat.âÂ
He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.Â
âKeep it open, then.â Ghostâs hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. âThatâs a girlâŠâ The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. âFuck.âÂ
Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighsânails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.Â
Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.Â
He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.
âSo bloody tight for meâcanât wait to be in that cunt of yoursâŠcanât be better than this. Have to test it.â He talks more when heâs horney.Â
Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as youâre able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.Â
Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.
âYeah, thatâs itâsuch a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettinâ it down, fuck,â Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.Â
Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.Â
Ghostâs eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you canât stop touching the Britânot for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.Â
âLook at that, makinâ such a fucking mess of you.â His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. âYou like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.âÂ
Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.Â
âIf Iâd known youâd take it down like this, Iâd-Iâd have made you hate me sooner, yeah?â Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know heâs close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.Â
Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.Â
âFucking hell,â Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.Â
Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghostâs fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.Â
Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghostâs thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.Â
Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghostâs heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.Â
Thereâs a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what youâve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.Â
The air stills over as Ghostâs large pupils stare at the mess on your faceâseeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you donât even think he realizes that he does it.Â
Two seconds later youâre being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.Â
Your fingers snap to trail around Ghostâs neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, âUp.â Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.Â
âGood girl.â He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak youâd tell him to shut up and fuck you already.Â
Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghostâs hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but heâs built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulationâtwo calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.Â
âAny more of this and youâll stain the table, wonât you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.â You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. âLook at thatâŠâÂ
Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fastâand with how worked up you were, it would be.Â
âAlright, then, brat,â Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. âSuppose you did well. Letâs make this quick, eh? Got work to do.âÂ
Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.Â
âEasy with it, Iâll take care of you, Masque.â In little to no time heâs lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet itâs easy except for the fact that heâs huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as youâre able.Â
Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.
âSo bloody tight.â With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. âChrist.â
Tight wasnât the way to describe itâyou were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, theyâre reforming to Ghostâs dick every second.Â
Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man canât help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hipâhis other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.Â
His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didnât care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.Â
âCan feel ya âround my cock,â you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. âCanât have âem hear how loud you are, now, can we? Canât let âem know Iâm shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?âÂ
He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.Â
Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.Â
You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him onâhitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.Â
âRight there, yeah? That it, Masque?â You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, âFuck, thatâs it, bloody slut.âÂ
The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghostâs thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.Â
âYouâre close,â he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Britâs clothes. His boxers were soaked. âCâmon, then. Donât disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?â
Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly youâre digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghostâs dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.
âThere it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintinâ me like a naughty fuckinâ portrait.â Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvisâhe doesnât stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.Â
âShite,â His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. âTook me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.âÂ
His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.Â
Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.Â
Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits youâthe accent deep.Â
âAll good?â Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. â...Masque?â
Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, â...P-pretty good apology, GhostyâŠSâŠshit.âÂ
Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldnât be hidden from you, though.Â
His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargosâboth items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghostâs own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.Â
As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.Â
âCouldnât have had a revelation in your barracks room?â You huff, itching at your throat. âYouâre buying me cough drops, you ass.â The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.Â
Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.Â
âActing like you werenât begginâ for it.â He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.Â
Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.Â
Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lipsâa tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After youâre done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.Â
He watches blankly.
âWe okay?â You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. âI miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new oneâs a jerk.â A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. âI know why you did it,â you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. âBut pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.âÂ
â...Youâre makinâ it seem like a good deal, LoveâŠis it?â He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.Â
âNo clue,â you admit with a smirk, âWanna figure it out?â Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.Â
âAlways liked a challenge.â He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.
âYou know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dicââ The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.Â
Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.Â
You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghostâs gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.
âGhostâŠMasque.â With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.Â
âPrice,â Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.Â
The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.Â
âProblem, then?â The Lieutenant asks. Priceâs lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.
âIn the fucking meeting room?!â
TAGS:
@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast
3K notes
·
View notes