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kithtaehyung · 1 year

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the window (3tan) (m) | myg

title: the window (m) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: you get to spend the holidays in a lavish private lodge with your brother and all his friends. but you’re just really fucking sad tonight… and maybe a bit mad, too. note: so in order to not fall more behind than i already am, i went ahead and combined both holiday specials into one🥃this one came about due to window anon’s reminder about yoongi’s window threat, and everyone that proceeded to cause outright chaos all day after that. so if you want someone to yell at for this, yell at them!!! note 2: this is a holiday special! therefore where it fits/if it fits in future canon is not disclosed. so this can be enjoyed as a one-shot, but i still highly recommend reading all the three tangerines series if you haven’t yet<3 it’ll make things make a lot more sense. warnings: strong language, alcohol, this yoongi requires his own warning tbh, chains making a comeback who is shocked!!!, or*l (m rec), manhandling, hitting it from the back a ha ha, angst :(((, masturb*tion, exhibiti*nism, omg we’re kinda pissed y’all😳, ….c*ckwarming, rough s*x, slow motion l o l, missi*nary, protected s*x, cmnf (clothed male), pain kink :)), kissing haha, !!!angry!!!s*x!!!!, c*wgirl, light d*m/sub dynamics, tense scenes, bro appearance, body worship, yoongi is deliciously aggravating, but so is brat!reader<333, ch*king (m/f rec), head/hair pulling (m/f), multiple org*sms, yoongi’s fit is basically 2022 grammys have funn🥴, cute af aftercare<3 drop date: january 10th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 15.3k bc i can’t stfu !!

“You sure you don’t wanna join us?”

“I’ll be okay, Tae.”

“Okay. Well, call me if you change your mind.”

“I will.”

“Wait. Are you really sure?”

“Yes, Chim.”

“...Okay.”

Before you shut your door, you offer both boys a smile they don’t buy.

But they leave regardless, and you watch as they make it down the staircase of your elaborate rented house, their chatter coating both the polished floors and the decorated walls.

A sigh escapes.

You know they’re meeting up with everyone else, but you can’t bring yourself to join in on the festivities. Not after whatever the hell you witnessed at dinner last night.

Why did Yoongi…

Fuck, forget about it. It’s probably nothing.

Drifting to your bed, you check your phone previously dumped on the nightstand, sighing at an empty screen before making your way into the cozy nook of your bedroom.

Seriously, does every bedroom in this mansion-like place have a mini kitchen and living area, too? How did Jungkook happen to score this house for a whole week? You even have a decent balcony, which you would be sitting on if not for the subzero temperatures outside.

However this happened, you’re still in shock that you’re the only one who got a bedroom to themselves.

Well, maybe it’s not that surprising. Your brother definitely muscled everyone else into rooming with each other, claiming Yoongi for himself. The only one that really complained was Jungkook, but Seokjin only said to suck it up before rolling his suitcase right past the younger one’s pout.

Contemplative, you walk over to fill the electric kettle you found in the kitchen, flipping it on before watching the sunset outside hickory windows.

If only your friends were able to come. At least you could’ve enjoyed their company around your fireplace while you downed hot chocolate and stewed in your thoughts. Maybe then you would brush off these icky feelings faster, or at least had Dom there to get another read on the situation you’re replaying in your head.

Then again.

She would probably be biased and say Yoongi isn’t shit.

Groaning, you grab a mug from one of the cabinets before taking a hot chocolate packet from the counter, tearing it open and hoping it helps.

Upon inspection, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything—just a wad of the powder stuffed in one of the corners.

Of course.

A tsk scratches your teeth before you lean the cocoa against your cup, and the kettle boils just as your blood pressure falls close behind.

Yoongi knew you could see him.

Why did he do that?

And why hasn’t he said anything about it since?

The trip had been pretty magical and fantastic before that dinner. You got to go sightseeing in the snow-capped mountains with everyone, snuck a peek of Tae’s little moment with Jimin in the hot springs, visited a quaint village with pretty shops, and even sat around a fire pit after grilling food.

Only the studio guys and your brother have been less active during this trip, since they’ve all committed to various projects that they’ve been working on in their rooms.

Profoundly different from, as that woman so wonderfully put it last night, going sightseeing at her place instead.

You still remember the look Yoongi had after she slipped him what you imagine was her number. Smack dab in the middle of all of you having dinner in the same little town as the first time.

When she popped up unannounced, Hoseok and Namjoon were too nice to wave her off. But it wasn’t until it was apparent that she was only there for Yoongi did they swallow their niceties—only for your brother to swoop in with the wingman charm.

“Are you all enjoying the town?”

“Hell yeah,” he blurted before Yoongi could even say anything. “Food’s good and the views are great. We just went on one of those mountain tours, too.”

“Ugh, aren’t those so fun?”

“You get it. Right, Yoong?”

Frankly, you don’t wanna recall how the rest of that went down again. Not when all you could picture is the hand kept on Yoongi’s back the whole time, or the look he actually gave her when she turned suggestive.

And how deep you dug your nails into Tae’s dress pants.

Fuck, you should apologize for those marks he definitely has.

What makes everything even worse? You recognized exactly where you saw her before that night.

You… She…

“Fuck.”

Saddened even more than before, you dump hot water into your cup, yelping when some sloshes out onto your hand ouch.

Of course. Yes. How perfect.

The next curse is less subtle than your shout as you bang the kettle back onto the countertop. And you’re one second from tossing your fresh cup in the sink before you hear rapid knocking.

Shit.

Your brother most definitely heard you from right next door.

Eyes shut, you fling your hand around while making your way over to tell him to screw off. He knows better than anyone why you could possibly be in one of these moods, dinner woes or not.

“Don’t worry, dude, I’m—”

Oh.

He’s not who you expect to see at all.

“Kook,” you whoosh out, closing the gap so that only your soured face can be seen. “Hi.”

“Hey. You okay?”

Observing concern under blond bangs, you give a sniff nod. “Yeah. Why?”

“I just…” When Jungkook pauses, you finally notice how nice he looks. “Thought I heard you shouting.”

“Oh.”

He looks really nice, in fact. His suit is a whole step above the sweats and baggy shirt you’re sporting behind thick wood and room care instructions.

This holiday event the neighborhood is throwing must be fancy as hell. You figured Taehyung and Jimin dressed up just because, but apparently you’re missing a whole—

God. Damn it.

Your heart must’ve seen Yoongi coming from your brother’s room before you did, because its beats already stop before he fully comes into view.

Wow.

What in the fuck?

Why the hell does he have to look like that when you’re this frustrated? Of course he’d rock a black button-up and slacks. Of course he’d style his hair in a way that makes you wanna snatch him from the hallway. Of course he’d look the most expensive you’ve ever seen him.

This is a whole other layer of upset that you didn’t need tonight.

Did he dress up because…

Shut up. Just shut up shut up and talk again because Jungkook looks gravely concerned.

“Well,” you start, tearing your gaze away from your current problem and fighting back pent-up rage. “I’m fine. Have fun.”

“You aren’t going?”

Like some tether that would go taut if pulled apart for too long, your eyes snap back to Yoongi’s. But your response remains tight as he adjusts one of his cuffs, “I said I wasn’t gonna.”

Damn it, don’t lose it when they’re both here. Jungkook’s already got a look in his eye and Yoongi is definitely sussing you out with his furrowed gaze.

Don’t be like this right now. Let them go first.

It’s the younger one that tries to convince you,

“Hey, it could be fun. And it’s an open bar! We can wait if you wanna cha—”

“I’m good,” you clip him off, heart sinking because you’re being brash but you can’t rein yourself in. With what already happened combined with… other things, you are way too wound to be social. “I already said I wasn’t going at dinner last night. But y’all seemed distracted enough, so.”

Yoongi straightens while Jungkook simply utters a confused sound.

Fucking hell, just let them go.

Don’t make it worse. Don’t do it.

But the dinner, the dinner, the dinner. You didn’t ask about it, but Yoongi still could’ve said something about it right he could’ve texted well okay this really shouldn’t be that big of a deal anyway maybe it’s nothing but fuck you’re still mad wait you’re saying something,

“Have fun sightseeing.”

Shit.

“Wait—”

Doors slam a lot louder when they’re huge.

And leave a more prominent silence, too.

Slowly pressing your back against the grain, you instantly feel rife with regret.

That didn’t need to happen like that.

Especially with Jungkook there looking both lost and confused as hell, when all he wanted to do was check on you.

Goddamn it. All you had to do was wait until they were gone. Why did you take it out on them?

Yoongi didn’t say anything about what happened. But you didn’t talk to him, either. A whole day passed and his texts about the snow outside and going to the party tonight are the last ones in your thread.

Which you were mad about because you already mentioned you weren’t going.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

“What the hell just happened?”

Wait, they’re still at the door?

Eyes downcast and grey, you perk your ears to see what they could possibly be saying.

If any insults are thrown, you can’t be mad. Not when you just acted so damn shitty.

“Don’t, Kook.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“The fuck? No. Let’s go.”

“Okay… Wait, is he coming?”

“Nah.”

“They both aren’t? Who’s going?”

“…Everyone else.”

“Oh… Right, okay.”

You’re fully slumped on the ground once their deep voices vanish down the stairs, and a single tear slips from your chin as your arms top shaky knees.

You hope Jungkook doesn’t take it personal.

Dinner woes or not, you weren’t going anyway.

“Hey, babe. How’s the trip without me? Boring as hell probably.”

“Something like that,” you huff, voice rueful through your matching, broken smile. As you take another bite of your tiny snack bowl, you keep your eyes on the movie that some people deem a Christmas one, despite there being more shooting and a guy in a destroyed white tank than anything.

Whatever. You’ll take it above any of the fluffier choices.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked what’s wrong. Now you’re just scaring me. Do I need to fly my ass over there?”

“No, Dom,” you sigh. “Just need a metaphorical gut punch.”

Immediately, your friend’s voice turns low and condensed.

“What did he do.”

“Uhm.” For some reason, her protectiveness makes you want to cry again. But you have to get through this in one piece, especially if it turns out to be nothing. “Technically, I don’t know if he did anything.”

There’s a pause before Dom responds again,

“Why not?”

Your lips press together with guilt. “I didn’t ask.”

“Okay, so…”

“Ugh, I wish you saw what went down,” you respond with frustration. “I know I sound dumb, but—”

“What happened, baby. I haven’t heard you like this in a long ass time.”

“Sad?”

“Pathetic.”

“Well, goddamn!” You give your phone a glare before a surprise laugh bubbles forth, and you can hear your friend cackle on the other line. “Whose side are you on?”

“Tell me everything first and I’ll decide.”

“Fuck you and your sag brain.”

“Don’t have this tat for nothing.”

After you take a deep breath, you turn down the gunfire and explosions before reliving the dinner. How Yoongi had been giving you looks as you and your brother traded embarrassing stories, your whole table laughing with every single one.

You tell Dom about how you saw the woman come up to you all, hand going right to the back of Yoongi’s chair before it slipped onto his shoulder—which he did nothing about.

She stays silent throughout the whole thing, even when you tell her how Yoongi glanced down at the napkin he got before turning to your amused as hell brother, both of them engaged in what seemed to be interesting conversation.

When you’re done, you stuff a bunch more food in your mouth, so much so that you have to chew a lot before answering her follow-up question,

“And he hasn’t texted you at all after that?”

You cough a bit before forcing the pity snacks down, swallowing more than salt before admitting,

“He has.”

“Oh. Okay, and?”

“I…” Damn it. “I haven’t responded.”

There’s a long sigh before Dom recaps,

“So the man texts you once after that and you don’t even—”

“Twice.”

“...What?”

Your eyes shut in embarrassment. “He, uhm. He texted twice.”

Silence.

“And I may have just slammed the door in his face.”

Triple, layered, compounded silence.

In fact, after a whole thirty seconds, Dominique is so quiet you think she literally walked away from you and her phone.

You’re so curious that you bring it up to your face before getting blasted by her yell,

“Really?”

“Look—”

“You called me to tell me this? You made me walk away from family game time, you know that? I’m taking all the heat—”

“Dom, I’m sorry, but—”

“For the love of— Finish whatever the fuck you’re stuffing your face with, and text him back.”

“But he—”

“He what? Flirted with some chick in front of everyone like he’s supposed to?”

You snap your mouth shut.

“What did you expect him to do? Lock eyes with you the whole time and wave the girl off as if he’s already got someone at home?”

“I—”

“What happened to keeping things on the down low.”

“Alright!” Your head ducks straight between your arms. “I get it, okay? I’m just in a shit mood like I am every year and the one person I…”

You inhale slow through your nose, eyes closed to the world. Two people already got burned by your misplaced wrath. You don’t need to add a third.

Swallowing, you try again. “The one person that could possibly make it better this time just took this chick’s number in front of me.”

“Babe.”

You sigh.

“I just wanna see him, Dom,” you finally admit to the universe. “But we can’t.”

“Mm.”

“And that dinner just made it even worse.” Another saddened whoosh of air slips from your nose. “I know I’m overreacting. I am. But it’s upsetting to have to sit through that.”

“Then tell him that.”

“Not right now. Not after shutting him out.”

“Then suck it up and apologize first.”

She’s right.

Either way this goes, an apology to Yoongi is definitely in order.

But also, this is the first conversation in awhile in which your best friend absolutely grilled you. Even when she cornered you in your car to warn you about Yoongi before, it wasn’t this caustic.

The way she’s come around is mind-blowing. It’s enough to make you question, “When did you start defending him this hard?”

Dom immediately corrects with a scoff before comforting you in the most Dominique way possible.

“This isn’t even about him. I’m looking out for you. And right now, you’re the one that’s hurting you.”

Your face scrunches with emotion.

“So make up with my future brother in law and I’ll see you when—”

“What?”

“—get back. And y’all use protection, right? Cus I don’t wanna be an auntie just ye—”

“Dom!” You are so whooping her know-it-all ass when you get back. She doesn’t get to give you butterflies after making you cry!

“What? I need to be stupid rich first.”

“I’m hanging up on you now goodbye.”

There’s a fizzy cackle on the other line, and you can’t help but break into a grin when she bids farewell.

“Love you!”

You wipe a trail from your cheek before moving your phone up to your mouth. Because you wanna cradle it close while saying bye for real,

“Love you, too.”

You [10:11pm]: hey

You [10:13pm]: i’m sorry

There.

You did it.

…And now you wait.

Ten long minutes of fidgeting and worrying later, you finally get a response.

Yoongi [10:23pm]: You coming?

Part of you wishes to, especially knowing he looks like the devil incarnate.

But you just can’t bring yourself to go. It’s just not in you tonight.

You [10:27pm]: still no

Yoongi [10:27pm]: Ok hold on

You wait for a few moments before you get a call, and your eyes bug out of their sockets because you certainly didn’t expect this.

When you pick up, it’s loud as hell on his end. “Hi.”

“Talk to me.”

“I’m…” This feels silly to do right now. There’s a ton of sound and music, and your subject feels supremely out of place. “You sure?”

“Yes, babe.”

What did he just say? Can’t people hear him?

“I’m just…” Well, if he’s fine with it then you’ll take the opportunity. “Sad? Upset? Something like that.”

“I know. I’ve been trying to get outta here but—”

“One more drink, Yoongi!”

“Yoongi, hurry up.”

“Is that his girlfriend—”

Ah. Cool.

And your mood sours even more than before.

“Right,” you respond, voice hardened and emotions knotted. “Sounds like it’s been super hard.”

“Okay, hold up. Is this about the dinner?”

Teeth grit when you confirm, “Yes, it is.”

“What about it?”

“You know exactly what.”

“No. I don’t. So if you wanna say something, say it.”

You’re boiling inside. If he knows it’s about the dinner he should know what the fuck you’re referring to. Why is he being difficult?

Truthfully, you’re so fed up that you damn near drop it. “Never mind.”

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

Yoongi’s voice competes with a flurry of other sounds, but its heat still comes across,

“It’s not nothing. Don’t lie.”

“Did you end up calling her? That girl.” You exhale sharp as you finally ask, body tightly wound and ready to burst. “If I can’t lie then you can’t, either.”

And there’s a moment of silence.

Stupid, dreadful silence.

“I did.”

And your heart slams into the ground. “I see.”

“You wanna know why?”

Absolutely not. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m done now.”

“Wait a sec—”

“Yoongi!”

There’s a commotion on the line before you hear a much higher voice, way too close to the receiver,

“He’s with us now, ma’am. Bye!”

The line cuts.

Your vision burns.

And you fold.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi [10:47pm]: Pick up. Please.

You [10:49pm]: i can’t do this. not tonight.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi: Voicemail

“Look. I don’t even know if you’ll hear me out, but. I only called her cus she works at that jewelry store in the village. The one we all looked at the first day? Maybe you remember, if you don’t it’s cool, too. But I was getting something for your brother and I didn’t want him to know. So, yeah.”

That’s where you saw her before.

But Yoongi could’ve at least told you that beforehand. Or at all.

Why didn’t he even mention that?

Why did he have to leave you guessing and what about the people at the party…

It helps to know.

But it doesn’t mend you entirely.

Yoongi [11:02pm]: I left.

Yoongi [11:03pm]: It’s still fucking cold btw

You [11:05pm]: you left ?? why?

Yoongi [11:05pm]: You know why

You [11:07pm]: it’s still early

Yoongi [11:08pm]: Got somewhere to be

You [11:10pm]: i’m sure you do

Shutting your eyes, you already regret sending that.

…But when he replies?

Yoongi [11:12pm]: K

Yoongi [11:12pm]: Night

You know you crossed the line.

And just like that, your haze of anger whooshes from your eyes, vision snapping as clear as your head should’ve been ages ago.

Fuck.

You know for a fact that Yoongi wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. So why the hell have you been treating him like shit? Being in a sour mood doesn’t give you an excuse to be this way.

All anger now melting into pure regret, you slap the mattress before rushing up, snatching your snack bowl up and berating yourself like hell.

But are you yelling at yourself entirely? Or is part of your wrath still staring Yoongi down?

Fuck. You don’t know. Maybe it’s both; maybe it’s misplaced entirely.

Dumping your dish in the mini-sink, you hear it clink into others, your pathetic, unceremonious pile growing even larger.

Absolutely no reason to check your phone anymore.

There’s no way you’ll hear from him now.

Buried in bed, you sniffle for the umpteenth time, turning the television up louder so that your pitiful state can’t be heard through the wall.

Your brother is on the other side. And if he heard you crying, you wouldn’t get rid of him until you told him a lie or claimed Mother Nature’s monthly wrath. Which would also be a lie tonight, too.

You messed up.

And you deserve this silence because why can’t you just trust him like you’ve been working up to? Do the holiday lows really affect your mindset this much?

Well. Now that you think about it.

This does remind you of a similar situation from some years back… Is that why—

Wait.

Your phone’s vibrating.

You shoot up from under the covers.

Where is it?

You tossed it where is it—floor.

Snatching it from the cold carpet, you check the screen and crack into a sob at the caller ID.

Goddamn it… Why is he giving you so many chances.

You’re the one that screwed up.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

“…Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, still feeling the burns near your eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just let me in, doll.”

“Huh?”

There’s a pause before he breathes, and you cannot believe what you’re hearing.

“Open the window.”

What…?

No fucking way.

You pause while staring at your curtains, wondering if Yoongi is really on the other side of the thick, neutral material.

He can’t be.

But if he is, you gotta get him the fuck inside because it’s cold as hell out there.

So you fling the covers off while ending the call, chucking it behind you while tugging the drapes to the side.

And you can’t believe what you see.

One thing about Yoongi: he’s always going to look better than you. Even when standing on a dark balcony, bangs so stiff they aren’t even jittering with his shakes.

“Oh, shit,” you curse aloud as you unlock the latch, not realizing that as soon as you slide the door open just enough—

“Come here.”

In seconds, you’re swooped into a freezing hug, and he smells like whiskey and cologne but also like him and home and you’re too caught up in his fingers on the back of your neck to notice him sliding the door shut with his other hand. “Why did you—”

“Quiet.”

“But—”

“Uh uh.”

“You’re mad—”

“I am,” he mutters, and your heart constricts before he clarifies. “But only cus I didn’t do this right.”

“What?”

What didn’t he do right? What are you missing? How is he even here? There are too many questions and not enough answers at all.

But Yoongi still doesn’t let go of your head, instead palming it just a bit more into his dress shirt before he whispers, “Just...”

And he stops.

Without any indication of—

“Can I just kiss you.”

Your heart drops, which is painfully ironic because it feels lighter than ever.

Lifting your head from his person, you can only stare into his awaiting gaze, shifting your eyes side to side because this man needs to be studied by all of humanity.

How can someone manage to break down your defenses in five words? How can someone make a day full of missteps and wasted time feel like it wasn’t a waste at all?

You only get to nod once before he consumes you in a frenzy, nerves and senses going haywire at the way he’s tugging you in holy fuck you see stars.

Desperation. Frustration. You taste both of these, but there is also something else—an apology.

Good.

Because even though you messed up, he kinda did, too. And you think you now have the courage to tell him what he did to upset you.

“You know what?”

“Hmm.”

You snag the front of his shirt. “I’m pissed, too.”

As he slings you around to kiss you against the chilled glass door, your body buzzes with a flurry of thoughts. Under all the pain, the anger, the relief that he’s here…

It’s just intriguing as fuck to see him in this state.

Because Yoongi has shown you time and time again how dangerous he can be. How he can lose control in the best ways just as you do for him.

But right now? Devouring you like you both had been apart for months while your brother’s on the other side of the wall?

“Yoongi—”

“Don’t.”

This is the most daring he’s ever been. And you’re completely surrendering to the flames he’s engulfing you with.

Your hands grip his top incredibly hard, clawing at him with unspoken words of your own. With each tug, you’re oscillating between telling him to leave, and begging him to stay.

And with both of his palms on your neck, his firm presses tell you he’s not leaving regardless of what you have to say.

Suddenly, your heart isn’t aching because of what you witnessed before. It’s aching because of how wonderful and stupid and perfect this man is. It hurts because…

“This is all I wanted,” you finish your thoughts through wobbly, puffy lips.

When Yoongi hovers just enough to ghost over you, you can’t keep from shaking when you continue,

“I just… I wanted you here, even if you upset me.”

Instead of claiming your lips again, Yoongi goes for a light touch to your nose. Which is just as fine because that’s his to claim, too. “But all I did was shut you out, and just now those girls sounded all over you and—”

“You should’ve seen what happened.”

Blinking, you feel the distance he’s creating by leaning away. “Hmm?”

“After that chick took my phone,” he explains, deep set in a frown. “Shit pissed me the fuck off.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t even know where they came from. Hobi, maybe?” He shakes his head again, and the agitation you witness between his shoulders makes you crumble. “But doesn’t matter. At all. Okay?”

“No, I know. I’m not—I’m not normally like this. But this time of year is just…” You sigh, tilting your head down until Yoongi forces you to keep looking him in the eye. When you go on, his insistent finger on your chin makes tears form. “It messes with me. But that’s no excuse to be an ass.”

In the wake of your admittance, he simply stares. And stares some more.

A single drop of remorse slips from your eye, but you swipe it as soon as you feel the trail. Because you’re not gonna dwell in this any longer. He’s here, knowing damn well he shouldn’t be, and you realize that’s enough to tell you that he’s sorry, too.

But what is that look in his eye?

What is he saying that you can’t quite decipher?

“Did you get my message?”

You nod.

“Mm. Well, it’s not all true.”

Oh.

Hell no.

When you’re about to move away, he stills you with a hand on your arm while reaching into his back pocket.

What does he mean he lied what did he lie about he better explain quick or else… a pouch?

Your eyes stay unblinking as you register that Yoongi’s holding a soft bag in his hand.

And you know exactly what those are used for.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, voice almost lost. “What the hell is that?”

“I didn’t go back just for him.” He keeps staring at the tiny container while you regard him, still gobsmacked. “But yeah, that girl? She thought I was there for her, so. Wasn’t exactly happy when I mentioned you.”

Your heart has got to keep it together. “Me?”

“Yeah. I knew what I wanted to get you, but. Couldn’t exactly go there myself without a reason.” As he places the soft pouch in your hand, he explains, “He was on my ass about seeing her after the dinner, too.”

Your hand closes around the bag.

He knew what he wanted to get you?

You?

This whole night just seems to drift more and more into dreamland. Are you sleeping after all? Those kisses did feel very, very real, though…

Suspended in disbelief that Yoongi is both present and handing you a gift, you breathe out,

“Thank you… But why didn’t you tell me?”

Yoongi scrunches his face in what you assume is embarrassment. Adorable. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says through a regretful smirk. “Guess I should’ve just fessed up.”

“This time? Yeah.” You look down at the bag, feeling like you don’t deserve it. “I know I shouldn’t have, but my brain went straight for the worst possible scenario. It’s, umm…”

Looking away, you fight the tears that you specifically didn’t want falling. The ones that you were done crying years ago,

“It’s happened before. Around this same time, actually.”

Eyes burning, Yoongi seethes. “Who the fuck?”

You shake your head and face him again, whispering out reassurance,

“Someone that doesn’t matter now.”

His silence seems to be different than before. When he runs a hand along the side of your head, you press into it like second nature. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not something I like talking about,” you quietly confess. “Which is stupid if it’ll also make me upset. So I’m sorry, too.”

“You wanna know something?”

“Sure.”

He drops his hand into a pocket. “You being mad never crossed my mind. No one else can even...” Yoongi lets out a huff so delicate you would never guess it was his. “If anything, I’m pissed that I haven’t shown you well enough.”

Now that’s interesting.

Blinking, you reach for context, “Haven’t shown me? Shown me what?”

He rakes a hand through his hair while glancing away. But when you lock eyes, he clarifies with zero waver in his tone,

“How I feel about you.”

…Oh.

Your stare is full of wonder and, while you didn’t notice it before, he seems to have a certain aura around him tonight. Something strong. Something resolute.

“No,” you whisper, a tear pinging onto your shirt. “You have. Damn it, I—It’s my fault.”

He is quick to assuage your guilt, just like always. And like all the times before, he moves on before you can protest,

“Open it.”

Oh. Right. You still have the impossible gift in your hand that you know you’re gonna keep forever without even knowing what it could be.

In front of you, Yoongi remains silent as you widen the opening. And you feel him awaiting your reaction as you pull out a necklace so simple, yet so elegant, that you can only assume that yes, you are dreaming. None of this is actually happening.

It’s a thin chain, with small links and no embellishments.

And it’s perfect.

“Oh my god.”

“She insisted I get you some sort of charm or whatever for it,” he finally speaks in murmurs. “But I didn’t wanna pick something you wouldn’t like.”

You stare.

“So I’ll just bring you next time, and you choose.”

And you damn near drop the gift. “What?”

When you slap a palm over your mouth, Yoongi’s lips curve. “No bullshit.”

“I…” What is happening? What is going on? “I dunno how you’d swing that since everyone’s here.”

“I’ll just take you here myself.”

His look of confidence has you averting your gaze in an instant.

“Just us.”

Tonight has taken too many turns into madness. He’s joking, right? It’s not enough to sneak into your room with your door completely unlocked, huh?

No. He’s not serious. You both know that’s the longest shot in history, especially considering your situationship isn’t even fully fleshed out.

But it’s nice to pretend.

Especially when he sounds so sure it’ll be real someday.

“This is way too much,” you say through a rueful smile, head shaking as you continue to dub tonight unreal. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Huh? You deserve a lot more than this.” He scoffs while taking the necklace from your hand, carefully slipping it back into the bag. “And I was planning to give it to you later, but uhm. Figured now was a better time.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Just wanted to say you got nothing to worry about.” He softly tosses the bag on your rumpled comforter before grabbing at your hips. “And that you looked hot as fuck at that dinner.”

Shivers coat your body as you parry, “I wore the biggest coat I brought, are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

Suspicion makes you hum, but you enjoy his compliments regardless. Even if he’s full of shit, his kindness never fails to heal wounds. “So…”

“Hmm.”

It seems like Yoongi’s done all he wanted to do. Running back the minutes in your mind, he’s managed to kiss the living crap out of you, show that you have nothing to be anxious about, given you a gift, and offered to take you back here on your own getaway trip.

What the hell is he still standing around for? He’s done more than enough, so he needs to get the hell out of here.

“You really came here to tell me all that?”

“Yeah.” He snags your chin. “And to teach you a fucking lesson.”

What.

Slack-jawed, you rush out, “You aren’t serious—”

“Dead serious.”

You know exactly what Yoongi’s implying. But as much as you want nothing more, you can’t. There’s no way!

“But—”

Your brother is still very much awake, judging by the loud hip-hop beats bumping through the wall.

You know it’s a slim chance he would even swing by your room. But still…

“We can’t.”

Yoongi grins at the panic you feel buzzing in your eyes. Grins! “Why not?”

“You know exactly why!” you whisper, grabbing him to kiss some sense into that reckless brain you love so much.

He responds in kind, pushing into you and almost bending you backward. Releasing you with a pop, he asks, smug, “You want me to leave?”

“Fuck no.” You bring him back in with more force, and your belly flips at his conceited chuckles. “But he’s next door.”

“I know,” he rumbles. “So keep it the fuck down.”

Goddamn it. The thrill of having him here while everyone is on this trip bursts your senses wide open, and you’re embarrassed that you’re the most turned on you’ve been in a minute.

How the hell is that even possible?

Is it the secrecy? The danger? The possibility of Yoongi getting his entire ass beat if you were caught?

Fucking hell, it’s everything. And what makes it even worse is how stupidly attractive this man gets when he’s cocky.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you lead him straight back against the edge of your bed, and he grunts as his legs bump right into it.

Shit, that was loud. Was it loud? Crap, you’re paranoid already.

With a sigh, you finally let go, hanging your head. “We can’t,” you repeat, breathless and more to yourself than to him.

Because this little secret cannot be revealed. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever since your brother would probably riot.

Yoongi lets you sit with your thoughts for a few seconds before relenting, “I can go, doll.” When you jet your head up, he offers a tiny squeeze of your arm. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh… No, I”—you gulp, not believing what’s coming out of your own mouth—“I want this.”

His brow cocks up. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you affirm, face serious but stomach acting outright silly. “I wanna forget my own name.”

“I can make that happen.”

You don’t doubt that. He’s done it more than once before.

“But also…” Summoning courage from all angles, you place a firm hand on his chest. “Can I still be mad at you?”

Yoongi falls completely silent for a moment, his stare incredulous and his chest stiff under your palm.

Did his heart… beat harder there?

But he regains his voice before you question it further. His deep, sinfully low voice,

“Whatever you want, baby girl.”

“Good.” You push him immediately, heart stammering when he falls onto your bed. “Because I wanna make you forget yours, too.”

“Fuck.”

As soon as you pounce, Yoongi wastes no time in groping both cheeks of your ass, and you can’t help but squeak when he hauls you off to pin you down into the mattress.

Air leaves you in a rush as he keeps up the offensive, bearing down on you as he lodges a tone thigh right against your cunt. Another mewl escapes before he clasps a hand around your mouth.

When he speaks, it’s compressed thunder. And his words strike through you like lightning,

“As much as I wanna hear you, you better shut the fuck up, doll.”

You hum into his palm, twisting your body to try and gain control again. But you find it’s no use as you thrust your chest into his, the slow rumbles of his conceited laughs all you receive.

“So cute,” he coos into your ear, chuckling even lower when you whoosh out a grunt. “But you’re gonna wait your turn like a good girl.”

“No!” you grit into his hand, moaning low when you feel fingers graze right over your cunt.

When did he even move his leg!

Yoongi shifts his head, bangs tickling the side of your neck when he questions, “No?” Shifting your shorts, he slips his fingers right underneath them and your panties, causing you to flinch right away. “Wanna try that again?”

“N…” You breathe out of your nose, and quickly realize that he isn’t gonna move his fingers any longer unless you give in.

…But why do it so easily?

You’ve spent the past twenty-four hours being pissed at the world—and this man to some degree—so why waste all the compressed energy making a warzone of your body?

Use it. Use it to make the most of the time you get this version of Yoongi to yourself.

Lifting one of your arms, you grab his palm to yank it away from your mouth before defying him a second time.

“Make me,” you hiss, lifting your head to meet his lips. “Bitch.”

Everything happens at once.

Before you can blink, your arms are pinned above your head while large fingers lodge their way into your mouth. While you’re busy taking them in, there’s a dark, almost sinister vow trickling into your ear, and shivers coat every inch of your skin,

“You’re gonna wish you kept this pretty mouth shut.”

Your reply is a gurgle, but he keeps going in,

“Because you seem to think I’m not yours.”

Wait. What?

That’s the… That’s the lesson he’s gonna teach you?

“And I’m gonna fuck you until you get the point.”

Oh, fuck. He’s still pissed.

He may not tell you exactly how mad he really is, but you can tell he’s frustrated. And quite frankly, you would be too if your devotion was questioned.

Fuck. If you saw things from his side, you really would be upset.

The twinge between your thighs rattles your entire lower body. Because he’s gonna tear you apart in the most beautiful way.

“Get up.”

“What—”

Yoongi hauls you upward, getting you out of the bed before bringing you to the other side of the bedroom.

Huh?

What’s he doing? Why is your mind a whirlwind right now?

Silent but firm, he leads you to one of the armchairs in your room’s nook, sitting you down before giving a chaste kiss. After, he goes to your door to lock it, and you watch unblinking as he takes long strides back to you.

You don’t know what the hell is going on.

But you literally cannot be more ready for it.

Unbuttoning one of his cuffs, Yoongi simply stands over you while explaining,

“You’re gonna show me first.”

“Huh?”

He folds his sleeve inward before pushing it up his forearm. “How you get off.”

Oh, god.

God.

“Yoongi—”

He uses a knee to spread one of your legs to the side, staring at your center that you know is already wetting straight through your bottoms.

When you stay silent, he proceeds to slip his other sleeve upward, cocking an impatient brow from above,

“Don’t make me wait.”

Before you can respond, he walks away, moving towards a tall lamp standing in a corner of the dark room. As you wonder how he’s able to switch demeanors as quickly as a lightbulb, he flicks it on, shortly before taking comfortable residence in the armchair opposite you.

You can only sit there, full of wonder and not knowing what the hell to do.

Does he really have to spread his legs as wide as yours, though?

Handsome asshole.

“You tappin’ out already?”

“Shove it,” you rush out, pouting with a beating heart when he leans his smug face on defined knuckles.

Because whatever Yoongi’s plan is, this scenario? Is a dream.

You’ve been wanting to do this for so long—longer than you’ll ever, ever divulge. All the nights you spent touching yourself imagining him watching from your desk, or even right beside you on the bed, whispering things that you will never admit that you thought of yourself.

It doesn’t help that Yoongi looks like Sin.

So you bite your lip, the essence of time and possibility of someone knocking on your door spurning you into action.

You reach down to stick your hand down your pants—

“Fuck that.”

What?

Freezing, you watch his face, hardened and dark.

“Who said you could go inside?”

“You said—”

“Uh uh.” He pins you with a fiendish curve. “Lemme see those pretty nails first.”

Your senses don’t know what to do with themselves.

How long has Yoongi been hiding this side of him? This demanding, uncompromising side that you wish you knew sooner? Why did he decide to bring it out during the most inappropriate time?

Because it’s fucking hot, that’s why.

Not only that. It’s also reaching into you and unearthing parts that you wouldn’t dare show anyone else. If you were honest, you’re a bit frightened at the thoughts dripping into your mind, coalescing into a dark, wonderful pool.

But those little scenarios can wait. Right now, you just want this so-called lesson to go as long as it possibly can.

Slowly, you rub yourself above your sweats, immediately understanding why he made you do this.

You loathe this. Complete pleasure is miles away, and yet right there.

Fucking hell, you’re already embarrassed at how sensitive you are. Will he force you to try and come this way? Is that even possible?

Well. You can’t truly rule anything out when it comes to him.

Silently, you beg him to not let that be the case, already angry as if it was.

Yoongi chuckles, and you can’t help but shudder at his low scratchy tone.

“You mad?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Stay that way.”

You growl, throwing your head back and rubbing in aggravating circles, trying anything to get the friction your lust desires. Your mouth forms shapes until words fit through, and Yoongi responds to a plea you didn’t know you uttered,

“Please what?”

“Please…” You breathe harsh. “Lemme take them off.”

“Why should I?”

“Let me do it and I’ll show you.”

“Pass.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out, groaning in annoyance when he chuckles with little pity.

If you had to guess what would happen on this trip before going, you would never have chosen anything close to this. Laid out on an armchair, shamefully rubbing yourself through your pants while your brother’s friend watches? What kind of fucking universe did you stumble into?

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

In your haze, you open bleary eyes and ask, “Huh?”

“Shirt off.”

Shit. You didn’t even hear him. “But my pants—”

“Don’t care.”

Oh, you hate this Yoongi. And you love how outright feral he’s making you feel.

Fingers shaking, you raise your shirt up, and he hums when you reveal a braless chest.

“All the way off,” he commands with gravel in his words, and groans in approval when you follow instructions.

When you fling the shirt towards him, he doesn’t move an inch as it reaches his shoes.

And as he stares down at the material, something stirs in your belly, and you’re quick to wonder where any and all if this rebellion is coming from.

Maybe it’s the painfully obvious tent he has in his pants. Or the ravenous, subtly proud look in his eyes anytime you act out.

Either way, you wanna ride this wave as far as it carries you.

“Now what,” you bite, cunt throbbing as you keep trying to find euphoria through thick cotton.

“Nothing until I say so.”

“Please,” you beg, huffing hard from pleasure being kept at arm’s length.

Why the hell is he taking his sweet time? He’s not even supposed to look at you for too long around your brother, and yet here he is fucking you with his eyes as you writhe in a chair. Doesn’t he know he’s on severely borrowed, stolen time?

“Please what?”

Breath ragged and chest heaving, you grunt, “You know what.”

“I don’t,” he lies. “Tell me.”

You’re gonna kick his ass. “Lemme take them off.”

“No.”

Fucking hell, you can’t take it anymore. Your core aches so hard it’s starting to coax tears, and you know that he’s fully aware and not doing a single thing about it.

Screw it. You need this, you’re pissed, and you can be difficult, too.

“Fine then.” Against his orders, you slip defiant fingers into the band of your pants.

“Careful.”

“Pass.”

His whole face glowers as you offer a devilish expression of your own, slipping your hand right into your panties and rubbing exactly where you want to.

Finally.

Pleasure throws your head back as you grasp what you crave, and your ass slides to the edge of the cushion as your back arches taut. Lust shoots through you as you launch yourself into space, turned on by the fact he’s watching you out of all control.

Are you already this close? How?

Why isn’t Yoongi—

As soon as you open your eyes, you come face to face with him, both of his arms caging you in on each armrest.

And he looks delightfully pissed.

Grabbing your wrist, he warns with thick anger,

“Do that shit again and see what happens.”

Honestly? You kinda want to.

But you hear a sound, so your thoughts derail as you snap your head towards the door.

Your chin is grabbed. “I’m watching, baby girl,” he whispers, making your head spin with how soft he suddenly became. With a passing thought, you just realized that he hadn’t even been using names until then. “Don’t worry.”

You nod, and he lets you go, reverting back immediately,

“But since you wanna fuck yourself so bad, I might just head out anyway.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you hiss, moaning when your scalp is tugged back.

“Then do as I say,” he orders, releasing you fast. “And take those off.”

He doesn’t need to tell you that twice.

Lip bitten, you stare up at him while slowly slipping off your pants, underwear coming off with them in a pile at your feet.

As soon as they hit the ground, your legs are pried open again, and you whimper before he commands,

“Who said you could stop?”

Fuck.

Gulping, you feel strangely powerful despite being the one with no clothes on. Even though he’s the one towering over, you have a feeling he’s trying hard as fuck to keep himself in check.

And it’s making you want him more than ever.

So you continue fingering yourself, his stare chilly and warm at the same time on your bare skin. Your nipples pebble under his attention, and your whines fight through your pressed lips as you get closer and closer to climax.

“Fuck, the things I wanna do to you,” Yoongi growls, his hand coming up to cradle your face.

Looking up, you’re sure you look pitiful when you ask, but you can’t help it. “What things.”

“Wanna fuck your throat.” You whimper into his palm before he sticks a thumb inside your mouth. “Paint this pretty face.”

Holy fuck.

You moan as tiny as you can muster, cunt pulsing around your fingers and making your eyes roll up.

A snicker erupts before Yoongi smothers your saliva across your cheek, “What’s on your mind?”

“You.”

“What about me.”

And you feel it. Your defiance. Coming out once more before you can even stop it, “Being put in your place—”

Your throat is snatched in a dime, and you clench when he threatens, “Do it. You won’t.”

Gurgling, you surprise both of you with a laugh. “I like it, you know,” you choke out, and he’s so confused that he unhands you.

“Huh?”

“When you’re mad,” you admit, fingers stopping in between your folds when Yoongi tilts his head with a cautious smile.

Unprompted, he lets out a tiny laugh of his own. There’s a bit of worry in his voice when he checks in, “You okay, doll?”

Huh?

Immediately, you assure him with knit brows. “What? Yeah, why?”

He leans down, and you’re regarding him with a strange look as he looks from one eye to the other.

What’s he doing? Did you do something wrong?

“Just thought I lost you for a sec,” he finally explains. “Which I would love to see, but not tonight.”

See what? You’re thrown off guard for a second as you blink. “Oh. No, I really do just like making you mad.”

He laughs before kissing your head. “I can see that. Punk ass.” When he lifts your chin again, he makes sure with a quiet, “You wanna keep going?”

You don’t know what he means about losing you, but he seems to be back in a comfortable state. And since you’re sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask, you decide to leave that question for another time. Another night when there isn’t risk and danger right next door.

That knowledge is potent enough.

When you nod, Yoongi makes you answer him verbally, so you confirm, “I do, baby.” You sit up high to kiss him before assuring again, “Do your worst.”

He immediately grins, shaking his head before slipping into a toe-curling smirk. “Nah,” he declines, winking when you pout. “Not like this.”

Eyes wide, you wonder, “Are you really just gonna watch the whole time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel bad.” Staring at the hardness in his pants, you offer, “At least let me suck you off.”

He only tsks. “Have you earned that yet?”

“I dunno but I know you want it.”

A tongue prods his cheek. “You’re too good at this.”

Proud, your smile is wide in response. And you salivate when you hear the clinking of his belt, knowing he’s gonna be a menace during this part, too.

“On your knees then, baby girl.”

You slide off the chair, feeling all your essence between your legs as you sink to the ground. When he only unzips to free his cock, you groan at what appears in front of you, wanting it—needing it—to split you in two.

But you don’t think things will get to that point. This is already pushing the hell out of it, so him plowing you into next week is out of the question.

This fact is probably why he decided to bring you to the chairs in the first place. That coupled with the fact that it’s on the further side of the room from his shared space with your brother.

How can he think straight while you’ve been a mess? Your vast difference in experience hits you out of nowhere every time.

“Go ahead then,” he taunts, and you snap out of your daze. “Let’s see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you internally bite back while taking his weight in your hand, licking his tip before taking him in.

When he curses, you slide your gaze up his torso, reveling in the way he’s already shifting his jaw.

He’s gonna eat all of his words.

Sliding your mouth back and forth, you make a few passes before releasing him to spit, coating him with your saliva before going again. With your other fingers busy on your clit, you feel the dirtiest you’ve felt in a long time.

And you love it.

“Fuck, doll.”

You preen, taking more of him in each time and pumping his base with equal rhythm. You lodge wet digits into yourself the same way, and imagining him both in your guts and in your mouth drives you to the very edge.

Fuck, you really are about to come like thi—

“Hands off,” he says out of nowhere, and you pause for him to clarify, “On your thighs.”

Wait, no! “But I’m—”

“Now.”

Fucking hell!

You know he’s enjoying making you mad, too. There’s no way he’s not having the time of his life.

When you plant wet palms on your legs, you keep sucking him off, realizing that this is just as hot as what you were doing before. Fuck.

But he takes his cock out with a pop, smacking your cheek before sliding it back into your mouth. As you let out a high whine, he praises,

“So cute like this.” He doesn’t explain further, but falters with a moan before laughing to himself. “Hustling the shit out of me.”

Mouth stuffed, you can only hum in reply. Which only makes him fold forward and curse under his breath.

Your fingers dig into your thighs, wanting to pleasure both you and him instead of being useless. It’s taking all of you to follow orders while your cunt is throbbing impossibly hard.

And he finally reaches to fondle your tits to push you over the edge that knock was on your door.

Wait.

That knock was on your door.

“You in there?”

And that’s your brother oh FUCK!

While you rush up to stand, Yoongi’s already shoving clothes into your hands and moving away in a flash, and you’re mortified and wondering where he should hide.

Hide! Like some high schoolers!

Panicked, you tremble as you attempt to dress, letting the blare of the television respond to your sibling instead.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Yoongi’s done for you’re in deep shit this trip is gonna go sideways real quick.

When you look his way, he’s already next to your bed on the other side of the room, not moving to open the sliding door.

What is he doing?

“Did you leave?”

Talk, for heaven’s sake! “N—No, hold up!”

“Okay, thought so. Hurry up!”

When you shake your head at Yoongi, all he does is try to smother a cheeky grin—which you immediately reject with a swat down of your hand.

What the fuck is he thinking!

Never mind that. You don’t have time for this because your room smells like arousal and cologne and it’s not subtle in the least.

Dashing to your bathroom, you come up with the stupidest plan and hope to every higher power that it works.

“Are you taking a shit?”

Oh, god. Grabbing perfume, you yell out, “No, just wait! Goddamn!”

“God, you always take so fucking long.”

When you pop back into your bedroom, you catch Yoongi pinning you with amusement, almost telling him to shut up out loud.

Why the fuck does he look so hot you need to focus!

You point down with force, signaling for him to duck behind the other side of your bed as low as he can. Cursed with a frenzied brain and throbbing core, you spray an ungodly amount of perfume while speeding around the room.

Chairs, bed, air, neck, tv for no reason, chairs again good enough just get the door.

“I swear if you’re hiding something—”

You pull the entrance open with a yank, pursing your lips and wondering how you’re gonna send him away.

But his brows pinch instantly. “Damn, what’s up with the face?”

Shit, you probably look like a trainwreck. What the hell do you say? Certainly not that you were just sucking off his best friend that’s still very much in the room oh god.

“I was watching something.”

When he cocks a brow, you figure he doesn’t know what to say to that. Whatever. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t suspect anything—

“Lemme in.”

“Why?”

“If you checked your phone, you would know.” He scoffs before moving his way into the doorframe, quickly ignoring your protest. “It’ll just take a sec.”

You’re too horrified to realize that he doesn’t even take two steps before swatting the air with his free hand. “The fuck? Did you just put on perfume?”

“Yeah,” you stare with hesitance, trying damn hard to not glance towards a certain hiding place. “Don’t want you judging if it doesn’t smell all nice.”

“Since when have I ever judged your room? Fuck, turn the TV down.”

Is Yoongi on the ground next to the bed? Or did he somehow fit under? There’s a small chance your brother will even look there but if he does and Yoongi’s visible you’re gonna perish.

Grabbing the remote with eyes unfocused, you simply retort, “You judge everything.”

“Touché. But you’re good at this stuff so I need an opinion.”

Oh, fuck. He’s sitting on your mattress?

Ironically—hilariously—that’s better than him sitting on one of the armchairs.

Fucking hell, you’re gonna need ten medics.

As you feel like sinking right through the floor, your sibling opens the laptop settled on his legs. Eyes glued to the screen, he beckons, “Look real quick.”

Just do it. Don’t act like there’s anything wrong. Don’t give away the fact that he’s severely close to his friend, or the fact that your cunt is throbbing so hard it’s starting to pang.

Body twinging with guilt and paranoia, you gingerly sit just close enough to him, leaning away when you see nothing but the Sun on his computer. “Dude, the brightness.”

“Sorry. I got all the lights on next door.”

“And you say my TV habits are to blame for our house bill.”

“Damn, chill! Okay, so did I do this right?”

You tilt your head and look where he’s pointing: one chart amongst a smattering of graphs and analytics. “What are you trying to show?”

“Correlation between quarterly earnings and model type.”

“I mean, that seems pretty straightforward to me.”

“Yes and no. We’re trying to gauge whether the newer shoe designs have the same longevity.”

Impossible. He should know the answer to that already. “Nothing will beat the OGs.”

“I know,” he laughs. “Dunks are fucking untouchable right now.”

“Right? Yoongi has like, fifty pairs.”

“Huh?”

Shit.

“How’d you know?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Grasping for a ledge to latch onto, you remind him mid-freefall, “Bro, we give him two pairs every year. You haven’t noticed him wearing ones for every fit he has?”

It’s not true. Well, the first part is true since your brother gets special privileges, being able to gift Yoongi an exclusive pair for every birthday and special holiday.

But there’s no way the man wears enough to warrant you saying fifty.

…Make that twelve medics.

Your sibling is too quiet for comfort, but he ends up taking the bait. “I mean, maybe. Didn’t expect you to mention him is all.” He moves the cursor on the screen before thinking aloud, “Speaking of, I need to see if he ended up fu—”

“It looks fine,” you interject. “Data is sound, but I would at least make a comparison with some of the older models around their same length of release.”

“Good callout.”

You’re glad that he’s a man of efficiency, because he moves to head out as soon as his question is answered.

In fact, when you follow him to the door, it’s your curiosity that keeps him a bit longer. “Wait, why are you in charge of this? Isn’t your department…”

“Yeah, it’s bullshit, dude,” he complains with a shut of his laptop. Nestling it against his hoodie, he explains, “But my partner is out sick, so I figured this would help.”

Gotta hand it to your brother to be there if you need him. “That’s… really nice of you. Is this why you didn’t go with them?”

He rubs his neck, a gesture you’ve been very familiar with for years. One he always does when he’s afraid to admit something. “Kinda. It’s due in the morning, but. I knew you weren’t doing anything, either.”

“Ah.”

“I mean, this trip is cool and all, but holidays aren’t really…”

“Our thing. Yeah.”

As he mirrors your melancholic features, he gives a closed smile with no cheer. “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Go to sleep, dude. You’re pretty much done.”

“Still need to make sure they all get back in one piece.”

What? Why does he always take on everything alone? “I’ll stay up,” you offer. “You’re exhausted. Just sleep and send that thing in tomorrow.”

After a moment of contemplation, he surprisingly relents with a yawn and a nod, and you wonder if he’ll follow through.

For your own sanity, you hope he does. “Night.” You got through this surprise interruption unscathed, so if he would just go to sleep then everything will be—

“Wait.”

“Huh?”

“Your shades are open.”

Spinning, you notice with fear that the curtains are still pulled to the side. Something both you and Yoongi must not have noticed in your haste.

Oh.

That’s right next to your bed.

If Yoongi’s on the ground—

As your brother strides over, you try to stop him, “It’s fine!”

He frowns over his shoulder. “What? No. You don’t want people creepin’ on you.”

Your heart can’t keep a rhythm as he reaches the sliding door, pulling the curtains closed before glancing at the space next to your bed.

What… What’s happening? Why’s he just standing there?

Voice tight, you ask, “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good…” Looking at you, he questions with a point, “When did you get that?”

You freeze, your heart pounding when you realize that Yoongi didn’t grab the jewelry pouch resting on the mattress.

Upping the number of medics you need to fifteen, you flounder,

“I— Got something at the jeweler.” Lamely waving one hand in the air, you feign normalcy as you just tell the truth. “When we all went together.”

“You did?” He mercifully moves away from your bed then, heading back past you and towards your door. “Should’ve told me. I wanted to get something, too.”

“It was a last second thing,” you tack on with a cringe, attempting to appear merely playful and not like your soul is leaving your mortal confines.

“Ah, k. Well, I’m thinking of grabbing that Octomore I saw at the liquor store anyway. I can’t find it back home.” He finally makes his way to the exit, grabbing the knob with his free hand. “See you tomorrow.”

He closes the door with a soft click after you say goodbye.

And you let out the biggest breath you’ve ever held.

Holy shit.

That was fucking close.

There’s no way he couldn’t hear your heartbeat bumping against your chest, right? Or did your body just give up entirely and flatline that entire time?

“You talk about me like that?”

Fliching, you clutch your chest before swerving around to battle Yoongi’s smugness with a glare. “You wish,” you whisper with bite, heart palpitations shaking your words on the way out.

“Now I wanna know.”

“Shut up.” Damn, your cunt really aches now with the adrenaline fading, and your face finally falters when you lean forward. “Fuck.”

Yoongi’s there before you can blink, fully concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts, baby,” you whimper. “I need you.”

When he understands, a low curse shoots out. “Fuck, my condoms are in the room.”

“I have some.”

His eyebrows ascend. “You do?”

“Yeah,” you admit as you walk over to your suitcase. “Just in case we got to… Yeah.”

“Same.”

You grab a packet from a hidden pouch before tossing it, and Yoongi catches it with ease before asking low, “You sure, babe?”

In return, you nod, because the ache is so overwhelming that you can’t think straight. All you need is the man next to the bed stripping quick, and you follow suit until he interrupts you with a soul-snatching kiss.

Your hands are frantic as they grip his chest, his shoulders, the base of his hair. Breathing takes a backseat as you keep claiming his mouth, and he’s just as possessive with your lips as he grunts into your throat.

“We gotta keep it down.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good girl.”

After you slip into the bed, he’s close behind, kneeling while finally wrapping himself with deft fingers.

Your body is thrumming with excitement as he positions himself between your legs, feeling comfort in his bare skin on yours while he pulls the covers over his back.

A thought occurs to you as he whispers, “You ready?”

And it’s how you can be anywhere in the world, in any situation, and yet feel so at home if he’s there. “Just for you,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with something more than yourself.

He nods before reaching down, grabbing his cock to slide along your folds. “Breathe for me.”

You nod, face scrunching as soon as he enters.

As soon as Yoongi senses your discomfort, he stops, instead sliding fingers along your cunt before rubbing your swollen bud.

“Missed you,” he admits, and you agree with your eyes as you fight back a moan. “So fucking much.”

“Me, too.” You close fingers around his flexed biceps. “And I messed it all up.”

You don’t really refer to anything specific. Because in your mind, you just messed things up in general. But Yoongi slowly shakes his head as he claims your lips, pleasuring your folds with a tenderness that blows your mind.

“None of that,” he murmurs, and you swallow as he moves to insert his cock once more.

You noticed with admiration that it’s much less of an intrusion this time, him slotting into your center with more ease and almost instant relief for your pulses.

And just like that.

He’s inside you.

And your brother is right next door.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, inexplicably on the verge of heightened euphoria already. “I’m—”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yoongi, I—” You’re gonna come already. What the fuck you’re already gonna come? You knew you needed him to ease the ache but you didn’t expect just his ridges resting in your folds to be all it would take.

“Doll—”

“Hey!”

Chills run through your veins, icing your heart over in one swoop.

Because that was your brother.

Yelling with a knock from the other side of the goddamn wall.

…Did he hear you?

The universe can swallow you now.

Petrified and with one foot in the grave, you lock eyes with a Yoongi caught just as off-guard.

What do you do? What do you do what do you do what do you do?

Blood sucked from every inch of your body, you simply yell back to your ceiling,

“Yeah…?”

“Getting food! You want anything?”

Oh, what the fuck.

You’ve never experienced a more frightening rollercoaster.

Relief is both fast and yet not enough to calm your racing heartbeat. Trying not to look at Yoongi’s growing grin you can absolutely sense, you shout, “No, I’m good!”

“K!”

Holy fuck.

What in the fuck is happening right now!

“Seriously, check your phone once in awhile, geez.”

“Good night!” you holler back in response, hoping, praying, begging that it’s the end of a conversation you never, ever wanna have again.

When you think you hear your brother shut his door, your eyes finally seek Yoongi, who indeed breaks into a shit grin while you try your absolute hardest not to laugh in utter disbelief.

Because what the fuck just happened!

“Oh, my god,” you whisper before covering your wild smile with both hands, one laugh escaping your throat.

Yoongi has to bury his head into your chest to stifle his own, and his body shakes over yours so deliciously that you feel like staying in this position forever.

You almost cry from your muffled laughter, but it’s Yoongi that makes the next sound.

And it is not quiet.

“Baby,” you warn through your grin, and he digs his face deep into your neck while holding you close.

“Stop being so fucking cute,” he groans into your ear. “I might not make it, doll.”

“Just stay like that.”

“Uh uh.” He grunts when you laugh again, and he slightly breaks. “This is worse.”

When you chuckle at his predicament, he groans,

“Fuck.”

“I’m not even doing anything!” you whisper with a smile, and he thoroughly disagrees with despair.

“Yes, you fucking are.”

You think you’re starting to get what he means, because with one twitch of his length, your jaw goes slack. “This—this feels really good.”

He hisses before breathing onto your skin. “I’m gonna bust if I don’t move.”

“Just a—little longer,” you gasp, straining your ears to hear any sounds from downstairs.

All you have to hear is the front door close. Once you hear that, you know the coast is clear and Yoongi can teach you all the lessons he wants.

But holy fuck, this feels fantastic.

“Babe—”

“Hold—Hold on,” you breathe, your cunt thrumming around him with pulses so big you have to physically block yourself from coming. After being pulled back from orgasm multiple times tonight, the ache is once again making you crumble.

But you hear it.

The front door opening.

Shutting after a few dreadful seconds.

And Yoongi breaks down beautifully when you give him the tiniest go-ahead.

“Fucking finally.”

The way he rocks into you makes you moan so erotically that even you’re surprised at the sound, your whole body shoved up the bed and an arm flinging back to press against the headboard.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, body bouncing with his insistent strokes as he sets the pace at one-hundred from the start.

And you don’t blame him in the slightest, widening your legs to give him all the room he needs to wreck your shit, eyes shut in bliss as you hand over control.

When hot lips close over a nipple, you arch up with a whine, and his hands come around your sides to claw love lines in your back.

“So fucking nice,” he growls, before sliding a tongue to your other breast, licking in a way that has you zooming to the edge of paradise.

You’re close. You’re already so close and it’s gonna break you into pieces. “Yoongi!”

And he seems to sense it because he coaxes you straight through to the end. “That’s it, doll,” he guides, spearing so far into you with his last command,

“Fucking come.”

And come you do, light shooting across your vision as your entire body finally erupts, quivering so beautifully violent underneath him. Nothing exists except how you feel—infinite, limitless, fulfilled. Colors fill where the brightness reigned, and you’re quite sure you’re sailing across a vast ocean of spinning stars.

But your vision slowly returns, with blurred lines and an image of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

No. Not an image.

Someone very real, and someone looking at you like they want nothing else.

“Baby,” you plead, feeling the lust and desire and something even more dangerous rise back to the surface. Because you want more. You need more. “I want… I want—”

He kisses you deep, and you grip onto his chains. “What do you want, love.”

“You. Fuck me. Teach me. Do what you want, just”—you pull him in—“I need this—”

Your arms are gripped before they’re pinned above your head just like before, and Yoongi wastes no time in thrusting forward, claiming your lips before you let out a sob.

His strokes are much harder, much rougher, and they’re exactly what you want. You don’t know when the hell your brother is coming back, so you want to make the most of whatever time you have. And this is exactly what you need.

Sparks alight in your bones, you tug on his hair, grunting his name and suddenly clamping onto his hips like a vice.

And he moans in a higher pitch before hissing, surprising you with a goad,

“Just like that.”

“Huh?”

“Tug on my shit,” he grits, humming with eyes shut when you yank his head to the side. “Fuck.”

You’ve forgotten how much he actually likes that, since you apparently go for his hair regularly anyway. But you make it a point to pleasure another part of him, pulling him close and choking him with your other hand.

“More,” you command in his ear, and wings batter your stomach when his curve goes lopsided and his cock twitches in your cunt.

“Turn around.”

You groan in want, straining to flip when his cock slips out of your pulsing folds. When your ass comes around, you buck forward with a moan when there’s a sudden bloom of pain. And you whine to the headboard when Yoongi does it again.

“This fucking ass.”

You bury your face in the pillows when he takes your cheeks in large palms, molding them before pushing them apart to reveal a view that would make you incredibly shy.

He lets out a half-grunt, half-hum as he grips your hips, hoisting them up before he grabs a pillow to slide under your belly. When you wiggle your ass, he huffs before slapping his cock against your folds, sliding inside with a frustrated sounding groan.

Pride bursts in your chest when you hear that. Because you’ve heard that one before, and it’s not true frustration. In fact, you’ve let that one out yourself—when you can’t fucking wait to get this man alone.

Yoongi digs strong fingers into the folds at your hips, and you only get one warning in four words,

“Bite that fucking pillow.”

Your teeth close around the case for a single second before you’re open-mouthed, stroke after stroke after stroke making you a useless mess on rented sheets. You don’t even know if you’re saying your thoughts out loud or not, but they’re gibberish anyway, broken syllables and a repeating of his name—over and over and over again.

Suddenly, a hand closes around your mouth, and Yoongi’s chains slide along your back when he hisses in your ear,

“The fuck did I say?”

You let out a high hum in response, completely forgetting that you had one job and you failed at it. But the way he still hasn’t stopped ramming into you makes you crumble on the bed, and you revel in this position of him folding you back and shutting you the fuck up.

Your mouth is freed before your head is pushed down, and your teeth know what to do as you go straight for the pillowcase, your hand coming up to bunch more of the material inside—

Wait what’s—what’s he—oh, fuck!

Before you know it, your hands are snatched up, pinned against your back as he launches into a furious pace. “Mmm!”

“Teach you to think I’m not yours.”

“B—”

“As if I don’t wanna give you my shit—”

“Fu—!”

“—so you can walk around everywhere with it on.”

You scream into the pillowcase, arms thumping onto the bed when he mercifully lets your hands go. Immediately, you brace yourself with sore arms while he tugs on your shoulder, bending you back again and showering you with praise. Like how you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, and how you’re taking his dick so well.

You also have praise for him, but you’re very sure yours will come out as screams if you so much as let up off the cloth material. So you can only whine into cotton, tears streaming down your face in rivers.

The point. You get it. You get it you get it you understand it so fucking well.

Apparently, this is something you do say out loud, because you’re released back onto the mattress before Yoongi yanks himself out of your throbbing folds.

Your body is being turned while your eyes struggle to refocus, drool sliding down your chin as you lay flat on your back again. But you can’t do anything about it because he’s already kissing the shit out of you, one hand on your head and the other forearm making a crater out of the mattress at your side.

You look like a wreck, but your emotions fare far worse.

Because Yoongi decides to switch up the pace, going slow enough to make you sob into soft lips rubbed raw.

Praise, reassurance, more praise. All of these things fall on your features and into your ears, and you hold onto him as if he’s your last lifeline.

“God, I can’t wait to feel all of you.”

And that’s when you break completely, knowing that your eyes are closed and knowing that he’s kissing you deep but seeing him and hearing him so clearly.

You can’t believe you ever doubted him. A whole two days’ worth of self-loathing and regret floods out of your eyes, and your apologies come out in streams.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s on me.”

No, it’s not. All you had to do was ask. You didn’t need to assume shit and there’s no way he could’ve known what you felt unless you told him.

When you give a vigorous shake of your head, fingers you adore clasp yours, and your hand is pressed into rumpled sheets next to your wet cheek. You’re so caught up and entirely whole that you don’t even realize where you end and he begins, don’t even register that you’re coming again because he’s already made you feel that fantastic.

But he moans against your mouth before you feel his weight bear down on your chest, and you gently command into his damp strands,

“Come for me, love.”

At your whisper, Yoongi relinquishes, coming with force with a bite to your neck—as if that alone would brace himself against the torrent in his own core. Strong arms encase you as he shoves himself inside, and you feel the way he pulses again, and again. And again.

Then everything suspends in the night air.

When he floats down from his high, his weight is a beautiful burden, and you nestle him into your sweaty chest. Not worried yet about when or how he has to leave, but instead showing him your feelings by running fingers through his hair.

Throat scratched, he tells you that he’s sorry, too.

To which you soothe with a soft, “Don’t be.”

Because you revealed a wound that still hasn’t healed, and he didn’t back away at the sight of it. Instead, he was only upset that it was there in the first place, and proceeded to try and fix it as best as he could.

Who does that?

Certainly not someone that would hurt you, too.

Yoongi slowly props himself on an elbow to smooth a hand over your tired head. And even though his eyes twinkle with words, he doesn’t utter a single one.

So neither do you, simply gazing up at your favorite stars and wondering how their beholder outshines every moon.

“You did so well for me earlier, you know,” he finally says with admiration. “No way you’ve never done that before.”

You simply shake your head, eyes droopy but creased when he smirks in disbelief.

“What are you doing to me?”

You wearily chuckle before playing with one of his chains, happily reminded that he really got you jewelry, too.

“Please stay a little longer,” you wish in a wisp.

And you feel comfort in his surefire, “I will.”

After a quiet, careful cleanup, Yoongi holds you close while you both listen to your TV in bed.

Your brother had come back while you were both in the bathroom, and the two of you only looked at each other when you heard the next door over close.

A hushed conversation determined that Yoongi would only stay for a few more minutes, but neither of you bring it up when a whole seventeen of them fly by.

Instead, he tells you that he knew your brother didn’t do holidays, but he didn’t know you felt the same way about them, too.

You say it’s one of the things you have most in common, but you do kinda want things to be different. Happier. Very much unlike how you felt over the last eight years or so.

“I want them to be memorable in a good way,” you sigh into his bare chest. Content, you realize, “Guess this is a pretty great start.”

Your shoulder is squeezed before you hear a rasp, “Sit up real quick.”

“Hmm?” When you push yourself upward, Yoongi slowly situates himself against the headboard, and you don’t know where this is… headed…

He just took off a chain.

“Wait, what are you…” Butterflies fluttering against your ribcage, your breath catches when he drops it into your hand.

“Keep it.”

Feeling his warmth lingering on the thin links, you question with everything you have, “…Why?”

Yoongi simply shrugs. “Just something I wanted to give you a long time ago.”

“But you already gave me that necklace,” you stutter out, “And apparently went through all that trouble.”

“Trust me,” he counters, pointing while still planting his hand on the mattress. “You gave me a lot more trouble right before I put that on you the first time.”

Oh.

Remembering the night you took him by surprise, you definitely agree with that.

Speaking of surprises.

“I, umm. I have something for you, too.”

He blinks twice. “No way?”

Nodding, your smile is big when you slip out of bed, going into your bag and getting out the one thing you bought so far.

When you hand Yoongi a very familiar pouch, you watch with glee as he opens it, hoping that he’ll like the bracelet with links similar to most of his chains.

With warmth in your chest, you notice that it best matches the one he just gave you.

“You weren’t the only one that bought something,” you admit as he looks at you with incredulity. “I, umm. I saw you looking at that and grabbed it. Before we all left that day.”

“You did that? For me?”

With just a touch of sorrow, you confess, “I almost kept it for myself after all the… Yeah. But it’s yours. If you want it. Obviously, you can return it if you—”

He kisses your cheek before whispering, “Thanks, doll.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I used to have one like this.”

“What happened to it?”

He lays it on his fingers while recalling, voice low, “Think it got stolen. But it’s all good.”

“If someone steals that one I’m coming for them.”

A huff. “I wanna see that.”

“Hey now. This wasn’t cheap, punk.” You gently take his wrist, putting on the bracelet as well as you can with your nails—and shushing his playful roasting when you struggle. When you finally clasp it on, you hold up his arm with a smile. “Look! Now we match.”

He looks at you with eyes that give you the shivers, his expression one that you wanna sear into your memories forever.

And you can’t believe you’ve been so stupid. “I really am sorry,” you apologize with a heavy heart, cradling his fingers in yours. “I should’ve just trusted you.”

“I get why you don’t.”

Your chest pangs as you close your hold. “Stop. I’ll work on it. Okay?”

“Me, too.”

This man doesn’t need to be bogged down by what affected you before. Besides, he’s miles above whatever quicksand you found yourself in the last time, so there’s not even a reason to compare.

You can do it. If you can try thinking differently about the holidays, maybe this can be dealt with the same way.

Especially with Yoongi.

…As long as you can keep whatever this is with him up.

It’s reached that point: the one where you both know a line is approaching and you can’t pass it.

He’s gonna have to leave soon.

So you hold his hand tighter before both of you peel off the covers, getting up and slowly making your way to the door with his lips secured on yours.

“You okay?” he asks when he grabs his dress shirt to sling on, and when you nod, he nods his head before looking at his buttoning.

You watch, silent, as he puts the rest of his things on, wondering if he expected things to go this way. Because you certainly didn’t, and you couldn’t be happier.

After all, you got to see a side of Yoongi that you had never seen before. Seeing him take complete control, painting his face even darker shades, watching as enjoyed your reactions…

Wait a minute.

Hold on a dang second!

Eyes narrowed, you pin him with a glare as he finally finishes putting on his shoes. “Hey, wait…”

“Huh?”

“You wanted to teach me that you were mine… But I never even got my turn. Shouldn’t we have started with me?”

Oh, that sneaky man.

He grins so smug that you wanna wipe the whole curve off his face, and his wink makes you gasp before whispering in indignation,

“You little—!”

When he bobs his shoulders in quiet mirth, he enjoys the tiny pout you give. “It wouldn’t’ve lasted long anyway.”

“Now you’re just rude.”

His lip bite is so handsome that you almost miss the dash of shyness.

Or was that your imagination?

“Maybe next time, doll.”

Ugh. You huff. “Fine.”

Yoongi slides the door open before checking outside. When the area seems to be clear, he turns to give you a quick kiss before making his great escape, and you watch with awe as he silently makes his way down.

And to think this is the same guy you had heard stories about back then. Behavior as lethal and punchy as a shot of whiskey but his head matured like fine wine.

You slide the door shut with your head full of thoughts.

Eyes going from the chain in your hand, to the wall that separates you from your brother, you suddenly come up with an idea.

“What did he want again?”

“I think he said Octo-something,” you wonder to yourself, scouring the liquor bottles in front of you while Namjoon and Seokjin search with equal movements.

With all of your big coats taking up the tiny local store, you muse that it may look a bit silly. Or intimidating. Or both.

“He said Octomore,” Yoongi corrects from a few paces away. And your blood runs cold at Jimin’s glance behind him before he smoothly adds, “Pretty sure he would’ve said that, anyway.”

All the medics. You’re just gonna need all of them.

“That’s it,” you concur before letting out a huff. “There are so many bottles, what the hell?”

Namjoon suddenly straightens and leans to the side. “Wait, that’s a scotch, right, Yoongi?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, then why are we—” Your eyes follow as the man strides down to the front of the aisle, checking the signs before spotting what he needed to. “Over here!”

Everyone follows him to the shelves labeled Scotch, with Jimin breaking off to see what Taehyung’s looking at under the Wine sign.

If they buy a bottle, there’s no way it’s not finished by the afternoon.

Once in the correct place, you notice that there are three Octomore choices, all black or grey cylinders with neat branding.

Great.

Seokjin’s quick to ask, “Well, which one?”

“Hmm.” You think hard about what your brother mentioned before, and finally remember after a few seconds, “He didn’t say, but he said he can’t find it back home.”

Yoongi suddenly rotates one of the containers before his question is full of surprise, “They have this here?”

“What is that?”

“The twelve point two.” He doesn’t elaborate, but his eyes are confident. “It’s this one.”

“If you’re sure. How much is it?”

“Too much. But we’ll split it like you said.”

“Okay. Let’s hurry so Hobi doesn’t have the car running too long.”

“K.”

When you both leave the aisle first, you miss the look that Jin shares with Namjoon.

Your brother’s yell is already worth it.

“What! When did y’all get this?”

“When you and Kook were still snoring.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

You speak up while an argument suddenly bursts, “You said something about it last night, and I figured, why the hell not? Eight years is long enough to go without a real gift.”

“But how did you know which one?”

“You can’t find that one anywhere,” Yoongi fills in, and your brother smiles at him before looking down at the bottle with soft eyes.

“Damn. Thank you.”

“You wanna open it? We can all try some.”

You’re met with laughs from both guys, and they give each other a knowing look before your brother shakes his head.

“Y’all would hate this.”

“Really? Why?”

“You know what they say,” he shrugs, going to the kitchen island before popping open the can. “About fucking around and finding out.”

Something about that statement makes you hot under your cheeks, and you contain your mischievous smile as you slide eyes to Yoongi.

Who, unsurprisingly, is fighting back a look of his own.

“Will I really hate it?” you question him as the conversation in the living room fills into the kitchen.

He shrugs. “It’s all subjective, but. You’ll see.”

And see you do three minutes later, with you wincing and coughing as soon as you sip.

It tastes like nothing you’ve ever drank before. Why are you tasting rubbing alcohol and firewood? Why are you licking a dying campfire with fruit splattered on top?

You must look thoroughly disgusted because everyone is suddenly laughing, and you slowly shake your head before handing the glass to your brother.

“Worst gift ever,” you insult through a wince, getting more reactions and bobbing shoulders.

“Best gift ever.” Your brother sniffs the scotch before humming. “So good.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy.”

When he looks grateful, you think this can be the new tradition instead: him getting a shitty whiskey and you telling him how horrible his taste is.

And maybe. Just maybe.

You and Yoongi can stand much closer next season.

You still cannot believe last night happened with no repercussions. After a full last day of the trip, you’re still expecting something to blow. But nothing does.

However.

When everyone is enjoying the dinner that Yoongi helped Seokjin cook, Taehyung goes to lean on the wall beside you, voice low as he holds his plate,

“Heard you had some happy holidays after all.”

Watching the other boys chat and laugh around the living room, you shrug before feigning a sigh. “I mean, as much as I could.” Turning, you apologize, “Sorry about your leg, by the way.”

He laughs under his breath, and you shoot him a look before his smile turns sly.

“Don’t even worry about that.”

And your heart stops as he goes to whisper in your ear,

“Jimin and I came back when your brother left. You thought he left you in the house alone?”

You freeze.

The front door.

That’s why it took awhile to close.

Your best friend sounds downright devious as he speaks again, and you can positively say you’ve never heard him like this before,

“I gotta say… I get it, babe.”

He smirks while looking away.

“Y’all sound fucking hot in bed.”

fin. :)

how was ittt !! 💌 would you like to buy me a 🍊?

A/N: AHAHAHA SO... how did it go? how did the special that shouldn’t have ever happened turn out? lmfao i really hope you all liked this one. if not, i am so so sorry and you can yell at me. if you liked it, yell at everyone that sent in messages about the window scenario including window anon pfft. also, nicki got the gift of his chains right !! also octomore 12.2 is really desserty! A/N 2: made a separate blog just for 3tan if you wanna follow @threetangerines <3 it’s 3tan unfiltered, so any absolutely filthy asks you would like to send, go ahead and let loose over there! also, the kofi is for any support you would like :D pls don’t feel pressured unless you truly wanna support me in that way and if you’re in a good position to. i appreciate anything i receive there! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist

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