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kithtaehyung · 1 year

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busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook 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 | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍 drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 18.8k gdi

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However.

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you.

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck.

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it.

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.

“Who are you seeing?”

“Kook…”

“I wanna know.”

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.

“I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.”

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.”

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left.

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight.

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off,

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences.

But one thing you two have in common?

He’s just as stubborn as you are.

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you.

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them.

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows,

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately.

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout,

“The fuck it isn’t—”

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...”

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior.

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops.

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done.

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired.

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished.

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything.

Except let you do this yourself.

“Please.”

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again.

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts.

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence.

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times.

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay.

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers.

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.”

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all?

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.”

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.”

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years.

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were.

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken,

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck.

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop.

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways.

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years.

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend.

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost.

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.”

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.”

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?”

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.”

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.”

He laughs again. So do you.

And the both of you break all at once.

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world.

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder.

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end.

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future.

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours.

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave.

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away.

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in.

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness.

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.”

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.”

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.”

“I’ll be okay.”

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present.

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of.

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.”

“It sure as fuck was.”

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…”

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.”

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.”

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things,

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on—

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face.

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer?

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets.

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need.

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?”

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not.

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.”

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.”

“But it’s true.”

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.”

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for.

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it.

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape.

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.”

“Take you home?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.”

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide.

If you didn’t have to wait.

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out.

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like.

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze.

So does time.

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait.

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless.

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs.

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time.

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye.

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try.

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel.

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it.

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will.

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons…

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust.

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth.

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him.

“Fuck.”

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair.

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now.

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you.

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest.

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory.

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees.

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that.

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long.

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.”

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.”

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.”

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.”

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves.

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing.

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides.

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly.

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes.

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.”

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence.

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.”

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close.

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.”

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.”

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got.

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore.

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.”

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years?

This can’t be it.

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.”

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.”

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.”

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it.

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?”

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone.

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.”

“Until they realized we kept going alone.”

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.”

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.”

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things.

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.”

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.”

True. “It could be worse, I think.”

“How?”

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges.

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade?

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence.

Together.

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.”

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.”

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.”

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that.

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton.

“And leave this to us when you came back.”

So… He…

Holy shit.

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out.

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible?

…Is he paying loans?

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t.

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to.

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways.

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is.

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too.

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend?

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.”

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.”

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.”

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...”

“Empty?”

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.”

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.”

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else.

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things.

And regret others.

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?”

“All the time.”

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.”

“Hmm.”

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.”

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.”

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were.

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least.

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.”

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back.

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you...

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck.

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can.

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds.

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.”

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?”

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.”

“Okay.”

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through.

“Spoke to Kook.”

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.”

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.”

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.”

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate.

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.”

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper.

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.”

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.”

He what?

“Wait… You were?”

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke.

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway.

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.”

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.”

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him?

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams.

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling.

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.”

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—”

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most.

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you.

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself.

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before.

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort.

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.”

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh?

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean…

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note.

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s.

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened.

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked.

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen.

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you.

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts.

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place.

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?”

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen.

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.”

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?”

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start.

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.”

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game.

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?”

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.”

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat.

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.”

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.”

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?”

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.”

“Mm.”

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants.

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public.

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.”

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes.

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?”

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?”

Huh. “Me? How?”

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.”

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer.

“Not even denying it. I like this.”

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again.

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start.

“Break? Or what do you feel like?”

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.”

“Mmk.”

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.”

“You can definitely be upset.”

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all.

Only warmth. And understanding.

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.”

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time.

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way.

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause.

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present,

“What are you gonna say?”

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again.

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot.

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders.

They’re lighter.

How is that possible? You’re still sad.

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing.

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out.

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again.

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says.

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this.

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob.

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle.

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close.

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone.

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers.

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours.

“You will.”

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.”

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.”

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.”

“Oh? The luckiest then.”

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.”

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food.

“Maybe you’re right.”

One week turns into three.

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought.

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about—

Oh. Right.

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of.

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision.

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons.

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day.

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope.

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good.

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere.

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up.

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too.

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded.

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob.

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time.

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size.

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo.

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back?

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all.

Three months.

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds.

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else.

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up?

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer.

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels.

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either.

To the point where it’s starting to scare you.

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly.

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling.

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen…

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now.

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight.

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong.

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable.

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.”

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted.

“Babe, tell me. Now.”

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—”

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?”

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement.

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.”

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.”

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.”

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner.

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats.

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing.

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all.

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours.

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left.

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless.

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.”

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.”

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.”

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?”

“I just… You read.”

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window.

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.”

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.”

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there?

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.”

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?”

He freezes.

Which gives you a chance.

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.”

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done.

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close.

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet.

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.”

You do.

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive.

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door.

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place.

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—”

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want.

“Please what.”

Everything you want.

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways.

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap.

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines.

You don’t know what’s coming over you.

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum.

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding.

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh.

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.”

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance.

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips.

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too.

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.”

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight.

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher.

“So fucking filthy...”

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair.

“Don’t do that.”

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls.

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses.

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin.

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time.

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time.

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.”

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.”

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything.

You know your panties are soaked.

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit.

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night.

Perfect.

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you.

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.”

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means.

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot.

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want.

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath,

“So fucking perfect.”

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.”

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.”

“Be for real.”

“Damn serious.”

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me like you missed me.”

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck.

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between.

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple.

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved.

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.”

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.”

“But—Yoongi!”

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him.

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes.

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling.

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops.

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure.

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops.

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?”

“Plea—Baby!”

“Huh?”

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again.

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.”

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?”

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided.

“Then fucking beg.”

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out.

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.”

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming.

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips.

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides.

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too.

Because his eyes speak volumes.

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size.

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem.

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window.

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck.

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—”

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.”

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.”

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.”

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe.

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.”

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better.

It’s not.

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds.

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke.

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.”

What is he—

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass.

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make.

“Uh uh. Stay like that.”

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.”

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.”

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back.

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.”

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat.

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel.

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear,

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.”

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright.

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.”

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs.

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk.

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise.

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again.

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.”

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it.

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver.

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep.

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips.

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard.

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.”

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips.

“Again.”

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying.

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true.

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands,

“Again.”

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want.

Oh, if they could witness you now.

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.”

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection.

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months.

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house.

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there.

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back.

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.”

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things.

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes.

Yeah. Stuff like that.

“I’m her favorite.”

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes.

Does he feel at home, too?

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next.

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore.

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets.

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern.

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.”

“K.”

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.”

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.”

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure.

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“S’ok.”

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.”

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.”

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper,

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed.

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak,

“I always do, babe.”

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering.

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this.

“That’s my fault.”

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.”

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care.

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.”

“You gave me tonight.”

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give,

“A little longer is nothing.”

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again.

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.”

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.”

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.”

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.”

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul.

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds.

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others.

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window.

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.”

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?”

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.”

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips.

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.”

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours.

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface.

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones.

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side.

“Not at all.”

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head.

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss.

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light.

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything.

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”

—

tbc. :)

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf) A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder. A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful! ++ 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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bratshaws · 2 years

Text

goodness gracious 26. brb x oc

a/n: guys this chapter is 23 pages long, this is literally the longest chapter I've written in my LIFE!!! i hope you guys like it, because it's my favorite it really is. <333

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff uwu JUST FLUF GDI ILL DIE OF FLUFFF!!!!

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22

“Okay so, let’s go back one more time, ready?” he nods, “Okay, go.”

“Whatever I do, I should not in any way shape or form think that your uncle Elia’s toupe is fake hair, in fact I should compliment the obvious mismatched color from his mustache. If I hear the word cazzo thrown in my direction I should check the person’s expression to see if they are talking bad about me or not. I will be spoken to in Italian, so my words should either be ‘si’, ‘no’ or ‘forse’, then laugh because they won’t be too confused that way.”

Beatrice smiled, adding a checkmark on her note app for each instruction she wrote down to help Rooster when meeting her family, while leaning back on the seat. They were on their way to the hotel, her stomach still squirmed with nerves upon seeing all her relatives in one place, but she was also extremely happy.

Rooster loved her. And that was more than enough to give her comfort. She knew it’d be complicated at first, it’ll be the first time her close -and distant family - will meet Bradley, he will be looked at like and questioned about who he is. They might even ask the origins of his last name since it’s clearly not Italian or Spanish.

“That sounds good.” she says, locking her phone to set it on her lap, inhaling a deep breath “I think we are okay for now.” he takes one of his hands away from the wheel to grab hers, interlacing their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll be fine.” he says, still holding her hand with his eyes on the road, “We will just do our best to enjoy it, okay?” He sees her nodding on his peripheral, smiling before bringing her hand to his lips so he could smack a kiss on the back, “That’s my girl.”

While it was a nice sentiment, she could feel her stomach dropping even more when she saw the large hotel appearing into view. She sighed quietly, pushing herself deeper into the seat while clenching his hand in hers, her leg bouncing with nerves the closer they got. They followed Leo’s advice by coming around lunchtime, knowing they’ll be too busy being loud to notice them arriving, hopefully no one would wander around the lobby when they checked in.

The hotel was huge, an U shaped building with brick walls and a Mediterranean esque aesthetic with beiges and reds. Pine trees as big as the hotel itself adorned the entrance, the whole area reminded Beatrice of the villas her nonna would describe to her when she was younger, back in Sicily.

There was a valet outside who’d take the blue Bronco to a safe parking spot, Rooster hesitantly gave the young man the keys, watching his car be driven off to the hotel’s hidden parking area. She stood beside him, the two of them holding their respective bags of clothes watching the truck disappear from their vision, “It’ll be okay.” she tells him, “You’ll see it tomorrow.”

Rooster sighs, “I’ll still miss it though, I love that car.”

“I know,Roos.” she holds his hand after a while, clenching it for courage, “Well…I guess we should get inside.” her head turns to the large oak doors with engraved leaves, biting her lower lip, “Before I decide to run away after the valet and get the car back.” Beatrice closes her eyes, breathing in and out repeatedly for a couple seconds, before she forces her legs to move. Rooster still has his hand on hers as she leads them inside, the oak doors opening automatically for the two, exposing the lobby for their curious eyes.

The inside was so spacious, following the same Mediterranean aesthetic as the outside, dark colors and marble columns with lavish couches and a tail piano in the left corner. The tiles below their feet formed the figure of an angel holding a harp, surrounded by clouds and a light blue background.

After a few seconds admiring their surroundings, they approached the front desk only to find there was no one there. They look around, trying to find anyone, before Rooster presses the little bell on the counter twice, standing beside Bea with his other hand on her waist. A figure is seen hurrying over from beyond their line of vision, stopping by the other side only to fix their suit and hair, “I apologize,” the man says, clearing his throat, “I hope neither of you waited for too long.”

“No, we just got here.” Bea says, “We are here for the wedding.”

The poor man seemed to give her the most terrified look she’s ever seen, but he just cleared his throat once more, typing something on his computer, “Of course, yes, most of the guests are here…they are…quite a bunch.” if Beatrice focused hard enough she was sure she’d hear her relatives' loud voices coming from the dining area of the hotel “I’ll just need your names.” Beatrice almost felt bad when she told the man, who seemed to be shaky and nervous while typing, looking behind himself to grab a keycard, “There you go. Room 312. Would you like to have your bags taken?”

“No, we don’t have a lot of stuff.”

The poor man sighed in relief, she had a feeling a lot of her relatives brought more stuff than the hotel staff was expecting, “Of course, have a nice stay!”

Beatrice looked down at the keycard then back to Rooster, who just nodded for the two to march towards the elevators. While nearing it, Beatrice heard the voices getting louder and louder, the elevator had a direct hallway that led to the dining area. The glass doors were closed, but not even the frosty texture of the glass could hide the sheer amount of people inside.

She furrowed her eyebrows with worry, looking back at the elevator’s number going down with her lip being chewed on. God she hoped no one would be inside, no one she knew at least. When the doors opened she let out a heavy sigh of relief seeing it was empty, “Oh, thank God.” she said to herself, stepping in with Bradley and leaning against the mirror wall as the doors closed.

He hugs her to his chest, pressing a kiss to her scalp “You okay?”

“I’m nervous as fuck.” she confesses,hugging his waist while pressing her face to his chest, “But…as long as we manage to get in our room, without interruptions we will be fine.” She lifts her head to see the numbers go up until they stop on the third and last floor, peeking her head out once the doors part, Rooster doing the same right above her head, “Okay, we can go.” she says quietly, “Hopefully I won’t share the floors with some people.”

“Are these people the cousins you told me about?”

“Yes, the very ones.” she skims her eyes over every door to check the number, “Adriana,Melinda and Cristina, ugh, I can’t stand them. I know it sounds messed up, but they are the worst, just the worst! No one from my family likes them, we just endure their presence because it’s just…I don’t know, I guess expected.” she stops when she sees the 312 in bronze letters against the door “We’re here.”

She pushes the keycard against the sensor, the red light turns green and she pushes the door open, “Woah…” her aunt really didn’t mess around. Unlike the rest of the hotel, the room had a bit of a modern flair to it, with lighter colors that made the room appear even more spacious than it was.

A queen sized bed with cream colored covers adorned with florentine flowers was tucked on the left side of the room against the wall, the glass shade lamps that were on top of the white side tables close to the bed had tiny flowers on them. The same lamp stood on the opposite corner albeit bigger, next to a desk with a comfortable looking chair and a large dresser. Close to the desk was a round top glass door, large as the room itself that led to a small balcony and on the other wall was a window that followed the same shape.

Rooster whistled low, dropping his duffel bag to the wooden floor to check the balcony doors, opening it to step outside, “Damn, Bea, check the view!” he calls, which promptly makes his girlfriend walk closer to him. They could see the pool area of the hotel, which thankfully had none of her relatives swimming in, but past beyond the pool, where the stone floor became grass they could see the vineyards. It went long past where the eyes could see, but there was a clearing where they both could see a large house.

“That’s where the ceremony will happen.” she points to the clearing past the vineyards, “And the party if I am not wrong. I mean, the whole bottom part of the hotel will be used as the party.” she looked down back where the pool was, seeing glass doors that directed right to it, movement seen from the inside. The dining room was there. Beatrice inhales deeply,rubbing her hands together when she feels the nerves return, so she decides to walk back inside.

Rooster takes his eyes away from the miles of grapevines to look back at Beatrice, who sat down on the bed with her head in her hands. He pushes himself off from the black railing, removing his sunglasses as he enters the room, “Hey.” he calls softly, making the brunette look up at him with worried eyes, “It’ll be okay.” she didn't reply, she furrowed her eyebrows only to look down at her hands clenched between her thighs.

He sits down next to her with a sigh, touching his shoulder with hers gently, “Babe, look at me,” she doesn’t, so he cups her chin to turn her face his way, “Bea, it’ll be okay, we’ll be fine.” he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous himself but he wouldn’t allow his fears to disturb Bea even more, “Don’t you want to let your brother know we’re here?”

“Oh.” she completely forgot, “Oh,I did say I’d do that didn’t I?” he nods, watching her pull out her phone and stare at the screen for a few seconds, the message app open as she stares at it, “What if my dad is nearby when he gets the message? He will blurt it out immediately.” She sends him a look, but Rooster just smiles then nods his head for her to go on.

Bea (12:44)

Leo, we’re here. Do not open this if dad’s nearby!Please.

Her brother’s reply shows up in seconds.

Leo (12:44)

I’m honored you trust me so much. Relax, he’s talking to cousin Lorenzo right now. What room are you guys in?

Bea (12:45)

312. We just got here.

Leo(12:45)

Oh boy, just three rooms down from the Bitch Trio! Lucky you! I’ll meet you guys in a bit, Cyn is taking Bibi on a walk.

Bea (12:46)

Are you serious?? They are on my floor?

Leo (12:47)

Oh they sure are, but they are down in the dining area right now, so you guys will be okay for a while. I’ll let you know when I come up.

Beatrice dropped the phone on her lap, glaring at the little device with a fury it'd definitely melt if she could. She sighs heavily, falling back on the bed with the phone being tossed onto the pillow as she stares up at the ceiling with her jaw clenched, “He’s coming over in a few.” she says, rubbing her face with both hands, pressing her fingers against her eyes with a groan, “I can’t believe they are on my floor.”

Rooster lies down next to her after kicking his shoes off, pulling one of her hands off her eyes, “Your cousins?” she nods, back to glowering at the white colored ceiling, her lips curled down into a scowl he’s never seen her wear before, “What are the chances they’ll bother us?”

“Once they see you?” she sends him a look “Huge.”

Rooster chuckles at her intonation, not being able to help himself, “We’ll be able to take care of them. You’ll see.”

“Yeah…I guess.” she sighs, rolling to her side to bury her face on his neck, which makes him wrap his arms around her, tucking her close to him. She inhales his cologne so she calms herself down, trying to bury the thoughts of her annoying cousins with that scent, with his scent and his warmth and his love.She smiled against his chest, enjoying the sound of the winds outside and the brush of the pine trees against the higher parts of the hotel walls, her relatives’ voices becoming less and less prominent as time went by.

Their reverie however was ceased when there were knocks on their door, Beatrice’s head shooting up immediately. She grabbed her phone to check if Leonardo sent her a message but there was nothing…oh no. What if it wasn't Leonardo behind the door? Her father maybe? Guillermo??

“Bea,I’d like for you to open the door before you-know-who sees me??”

Leo. Oh thank God.

She hurried out of the bed, Rooster sitting up and fixing himself so he’d look decent in front of her brother. Beatrice unlocked the door, her brother giving her a look with his eyes wide, “I’m sorry, you didn’t message me.” She stepped back so he could enter, noticing he was holding a plastic bag in his hands.

“Dad was hovering by when I was about to, I just got out before he asked me things.” he set the plastic bag on the desk, “Got you guys some snacks, if you don’t want to eat it you can put it in the mini freezer.” Leonardo looked up at Bradley when he got closer, giving the pilot a short smile, “So, thrown in the eye of the hurricane huh?”

Rooster smiles wryly, “I’ve been in worse situations.” he says, leaning his lower back against the desk with his hands in his pockets as Beatrice approaches the two, opening the bag to check inside, “I’ll be fine.”

Leonardo arched his eyebrows, “Damn, I wish I had that confidence when talking to my family.” he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair, pulling it into a ponytail by using the elastic band on his wrist “Well, I just wanted to let you guys know that everything will start around six, Bea will have to get down there around five thirty since she’s one of the bridesmaids, so I’ll guide you through Mordor in the meantime.”

Bradley sends a look to Beatrice, smiling at the reference and figuring out where Beatrice got some of her interests from, “Sounds good. Should I meet you or will you come here?”

“Eh, I’ll come here, you will be seen either way.” Leonardo shrugs, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest, “Just don’t freak out, everyone’s eyes will be on you and I don’t want to scare you,” he turns to Bea then, holding up a hand, ‘But dad already knows.”

Beatrice blinks, “What? How??”

“He went to the parking lot to check something and saw Bradley’s car. You know dad is good at identifying vehicles, it’s the only one he hasn’t connected to a friend or a family member.” He offers his sister a weak shrug and Bea sighs heavily, dropping her head forward, “He just walked in with no reaction, if that helps.”

“It…does a little I guess.” she murmurs, mirroring Rooster’s pose by pressing her lower back against the desk, crossing her arms under her bust, “And the others are already here yeah?” Leo nods, “...did you see Gui?”

“How can someone not see Guillermo? That behemoth could be seen from orbit.” her older brother says with a roll of his eyes, “He’s here, he’s just hovering around like a ghost and using the shadows in his favor. He probably already knows you are here too.” but Leonardo sends a look to both of them after looking down at his watch, “Listen I gotta go, Bibi is going to nap soon and I’ll have to be around in case she wakes up…so I’ll come back later.”

Beatrice thanks her brother, walking to open the door for him as Rooster follows close by. She’s surprised to see Leo offer his hand to Rooster in a ‘bro’ handshake as he’d like to call it, not being able to hold back her smile when her boyfriend shook it with the two men bumping together in a hug before Leonardo stepped back onto the hallway.

He looked around for a second, then sent the two a double thumbs up and a small smile, then walked out of view. Beatrice closed the door with a dull slam, pressing her forehead against the wood for a few seconds, “Okay.” she whispers, pushing herself back to look at Bradley, “Okay, we have a plan.”

Rooster wraps his arms around her shoulder to tuck her against his side, dropping his head to kiss her scalp, “We do, we’ll be fine.” he whispers, “Now, what do you want to do until then?”

Beatrice blinks slowly, breathing in deeply, “Honestly…I think a nap could work, after we set our clothes up.” she says, yesterday’s activities and her anxiety this morning tired her out a bit, her body begging for at least a short rest.

He chuckled, “Sure gorgeous.” the two of them walking to their respective bags to pull out the formal outfits they’d wear. He took a glimpse of her dress, a beautiful color that’d look great on her skin as she hung it by the dresser. She took a few seconds admiring his own outfit, a gray two piece suit with a peach colored shirt - amazingly not Hawaiian - with thin white stripes on it.

She couldn’t help but stare, “I thought you only had Hawaiian shirts.” she says with genuine surprise, making him toss his head back in a ‘hah!’ as he sets his shoes right under the hanging outfit,”I’m serious, I had no idea you had other types.”

“I’m a man of many surprises.”

“And many Hawaiian shirts.”

Rooster narrows his eyes playfully, placing his big hand over her face, “Sleep.” he says, her laugh sputtering against his palm, before she hugs him tightly. She yawns softly, with him following close behind,deciding they should finally take their nap since they were done fixing their outfits.

He turns the two of them to the large bed, massive really, bigger than their own combined, watching as she just fell face first on the mattress. Climbing right behind her, he sighed softly when his head touched the comfortable pillow. It didn’t smell like lavender, unfortunately, but it was nice.

“Hey,” he heard her say, her hair tangled in front of her eyes, but her smile was bright, “I love you.”

He’d never get tired of hearing that from her, never. Rooster’s gaze softened, his big hand cupping her cheek, “I love you too, pretty girl.” she made a happy noise, scooting closer to him so her chin was tucked against his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso the best she could while his own held her waist.

He didn’t know how long it took for his own eyes to flutter shut but the rise and fall of Beatrice’s ribs and her even breathing lulled him to a peaceful slumber. They slept for a while, neither of them dreamed but also neither of them let go of one another, even when changing positions they’d be touching the other. His hand on her back when she slept on her stomach, or her arm draped over his hips as he moved to his side.

She had set an alarm for them in case they overslept, which they did, waking up startled when the alarm rang loudly. Bea groaned, turning it off and checking the time, “We should start getting ready, do you want to go first?” she asks, to which Rooster yawns but nods, sitting up on the bed with a grunt, stretching his arms up to the ceiling pushing himself upwards.

Beatrice yawns a bit more, rubbing her eyes with her palm heel, looking over her shoulder as Rooster disappear behind the bathroom door, “Bea!We got a bathtub!” comes his excited, and awake, shout from the closed bathroom. She chuckles, neither of them entered the bathroom when they got there considering they had a bathroom break at a gas station minutes away from the hotel.

“Yeah?” she calls, standing up from the bed to open her bag, picking her makeup and toiletries from the inside.

“Yeah!” his head pokes out of the bathroom door, “It’s huge. I think you could fit like seven people in it.” he was exaggerating of course, but it was pretty big, disappearing back inside “And a nice shower too!”

She hears the water running, shaking her head fondly at how stoked he sounded from the inside of the bathroom. While waiting for her turn, she couldn’t help but tense up when she heard three known voices walking down the hall, the cackling and nasal tones being easy to figure out immediately. The voices got louder, approaching her door and she thought for a moment they’d knock on it, but thankfully they did not.

However she did hear her name being said, then another round of cackling followed, a cackling that got fainter and fainter as they walked away. Beatrice bit her lower lip hard, the triplets were always spoiled little brats, daughters of her aunt Regina who succumbed to their every whim. They always complained about something, someone, somewhere, they lived for gossip and adored pointing other people’s flaws only to add a ‘just saying’ at the end to make it seem there wasn’t anything wrong with it. Being less than charming to her and her brothers’ partners.

They were also thirsty bitches who couldn’t fucking handle a new man into the family, they’d immediately try and figure more about him. They did that when her sisters’ husbands entered the family. She chuckled at the memory of Marina pulling them to the side and pinning them down with her eyes, her sister was always the more hot headed of all of them, snarling down at her cousins to “get the fuck away from her man” or else she’d make sure that their freshly bought teeth would be down their throats.

The triplets stopped messing with Derek, but then started complaining about how Marina was taking too long to have a child of her own to their mother. Which then evolved into a full blown argument between her father and his youngest sister, who didn’t seem to understand why he’d be so upset. She remembered how her dad drove them all home early that night, but he got back on talking with aunt Regina when the week was over.

Blood is thicker than water after all.

They did try the same with Aaron, to which Sabrina clearly wasn’t happy with. Her sister, instead of dealing with the triplets, went to their mother and let her know - in the calmest voice possible - that they were acting oddly around Aaron. Once again, obviously, her aunt took the triplets’ side and brushed it off as them just joking around. Ever since then everyone just chose to ignore them the best they could…but Beatrice wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it.

Bradley was her boyfriend, the man she loved and she was going to defend him if needed be. She’d just…warn her aunt in case anything happened. Hopefully it wouldn’t get to that.

She looked up when the bathroom door opened and he stepped out, now the suit was on his body and he looked so nice. He fixed the shoulders of the coat with a shrug, running his hands down the peach colored fabric of his shirt - the first few buttons undone and showing the golden skin and just a bit of his chest hair - then patting his pants. He met her wandering gaze with a grin, “So?” he holds the jacket open, “How do I look?”

Beatrice blinked, sitting on her knees as a slow smile formed on her face “You look amazing.” she then remembered something he said on Halloween night “You really do look great in a suit.”

Rooster’s cheek dimpled in a cheeky grin, dropping the coat so it’d flap down his torso, “I do don’t I?” he repeats, coming closer to her with the grace of a big cat, almost crawling on top of Beatrice, “I clean up very well.”

She smiles, pressing her lips to his in a quick smack, “You do.” she rolls off the bed however, grabbing her makeup bag,toiletries and the dress, rushing to the bathroom, “I’ll go get ready, if Leo shows up you can go, I’ll lock the room.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,I’ll take a while to get ready, Roos.” she says while putting her things on the sink, wow that was a big bathtub, before walking out to kiss his lips. He hums happily, tugging her closer to himself, his cologne invading her nose as a smile formed over her lips, “I’ll see you downstairs, okay?” she says once they break apart.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a little smirk, “Okay.” he holds her hand for a second, hesitating on letting go until she was already inside the bathroom. He dropped his arm to his side, watching the door close and lock, before he heaved out a breath. He walked to the balcony, leaning his weight over the railing to check the outside.

It was nearing nighttime now, the structure in the distance lighting up as he saw groups of people walking out of the hotel. That’s a whole lot of people, Beatrice wasn’t kidding when she said her family was big. Rooster inhaled deeply, closing his eyes to give himself a pep talk.

He’d be fine. He just had to be himself and not mess up.

The knock on the door makes him look over his shoulder, walking back into the room after closing the balcony’s doors. He pressed the keycard to the little sensor, unlocking the door and opening it to reveal Leonardo outside. His attire wasn’t that different from Rooster’s: a light colored suit with a patterned shirt, but this one had tiny guitars on it and was a dark blue color, “Hey, you ready?”

“Yeah, as ready as I could be.” he replies, setting the keycard on the desk where Bea could find it, stepping out on the hallway as the door locks automatically. He huffs a breath, seeing people coming out of the rooms on the far end of the hall, fixing his suit jacket one more time, “Okay.”

“Alright, follow me.” but instead of going to the elevators, Leonardo takes him to the flight of stairs on the opposite side, “ The elevators will be packed, this is a lot faster amazingly.” he explains, the two men going down the steps where Rooster hears the constant talking coming from the floors below. Some others had the same idea of Leo, going down the stairs and staring when Bradley walked past them, muttering to themselves.

Reaching the lobby, he sees the whole bulk of Beatrice’s family going out through the sliding doors that led to the pool. Some of them followed the social casual suggestion Beatrice's aunt gave them, while others looked like they were ready to go to the opera or to a fancy ball. He tried to keep his eyes on Leonardo, but he couldn't help the fleeting looks he’d send to the people around him, even meeting some of the guest’s eyes since they were already staring at him.

“Alright, now we walk through the vineyards.” Leo points ahead, “There’s a few pathways that lead to the clearing. We just gotta choose the one that looks empty.” Beatrice’s brother looks over his shoulder when he sees the Bitch Trio is in the crowd already, “Pick up the step.”

Bradley doesn’t even question, he does as Leonardo says without looking back. He has never entered a vineyard before and he’s amazed at the trelices surrounding him when they enter the path with less people. The grapes were full and ripe, going from rich maroon to deep purple, some smaller than the others, but the smell was incredible.

Since they were the only ones in this path, Bradley chose to ask Leonardo a few things, “Can I ask you something?” Leo hums, much like Beatrice does “What does your aunt do, exactly? Bea never told me.”

“Ah well.” he chuckles and gestures to the vineyard around them, “This.” Bradley furrows his eyebrows “She owns this vineyard. And the hotel.”

“...no way.”

“Oh way,” Leonardo laughs, “Well, her and uncle Sebastian own the winery.While our cousins Luna and David take care of the hotel. They had this place for years, they first had the winery -which is where we are going to have the celebration - and then built the hotel.”

Bradley looks back at the large U shaped hotel with amazement, “But, Bea said your aunt is a bit of a uh–”

“Hippie? Flower child? A free spirit? A witch?” Leonardo adds, still laughing, “She is, but she’s also an amazing businesswoman. She knows more about money than anyone else in the family, she built this from scratch and no one really believed it’d work.” The winery gets bigger the closer they get to it, the voices getting louder as well, “But now she’s won I don’t know how many prizes worldwide by having good quality wine at a low price.”

They stepped out of the vineyard onto the clearing, where people were taking their seats on their respective chairs. There were so many people he thought he got dizzy from looking so much. The white carpet runner stood out from the grassy ground, creating an aisle that led to large trees in the distance with branches that conjoined almost as if it was a hug. There were fairy lights hanging from the branches and on the wooden poles that surrounded the seating area, colorful flower arrangements adorning the back chairs.

“Come on, you are sitting with us.” Leonardo says, walking around the chairs towards the third line. Rooster looked up briefly, meeting the eyes of some of the guests, but especially a man with graying black hair who stopped fixing his tie to stare him down. Leonardo looked in the same direction, “Ah, yeah, that’s our dad. He’s walking our aunt down the aisle so don’t worry about it too much.”

Rooster tried to fight back the chill going down his spine when he met Beatrice’s father's unreadable gaze, but the older man just moved his head away to go back to chatting with the relatives around him. Leonardo stopped at a row, where a blonde woman seated by the final chairs smiled at them, “Finally.” she stood up to her feet, lifting the ends of her light green dress, “Took you guys long enough.”

“We had to take the scenic route.” Leonardo looks back at Bradley, “My wife Cynthia.”

“Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Cynthia smiles, shaking his hand, “Bibi told us so much about you.”

Rooster chuckles, “Oh, she did huh?” He drops his hand after Cynthia is done shaking it, following the couple through the line of chairs to sit down next to Leonardo and his wife, trying to not look behind himself but definitely feeling eyes on the back of his head already. Since the three of them are on the inner side of the group of chairs, Brad had a good view of his surroundings.

More people seated to his left, the one closest to him was a man in his mid forties with the same characteristics of both Beatrice and Leonardo. Light green eyes moved his way, the stubble on the man’s cheeks seemed to sharpen his already high cheekbones, “Ah, finally we meet.” his voice is deeper than Leonardo’s but there’s no malice in it, “You are Bea’s boyfriend are you not?” Rooster nods, the other man’s large hand coming into view, “Michael, the best brother. Nice to meet you.”

Rooster shakes his hand firmly, giving him a smile, “Bradley,nice to meet you too.”

Michael’s hair was wavy but shared the same chestnut color and length with Leonardo’s, part of his hair held up in a half bun with some graying by the temples, his suit a dark blue with a white and yellow floral shirt underneath. There was a tattoo on his throat, apparently a dragon and Bradley noticed his nose was deformed, like when you get beaten on the face several times alongside a scar that cut diagonally on the right eyebrow touching his upper eyelid.

“The best brother?” Leonardo’s voice comes from behind Rooster, “Since when?”

“I am the best looking one.” Michael says with a smile, “So therefore, I’m the best brother. Don’t listen to him, he knows nothing.” he says, the back of his hand hitting Rooster on the chest in what he could assume was a casual bump,but the pilot held back a cough at the impact. Michael, like Guillermo, was taller than he was and clearly bigger than he was too.

He was used to being one of the tallest in the room, he is a bit unsure how to react with having someone else tower over him. Especially when he saw a massive body moving to the second row of chairs that made him tense up, his eyes meeting Guillermo’s as he stepped aside to let a shorter woman and a group of teenagers walk in first - his family no doubt. They stared at each other for a while and to his surprise, Guillermo nodded in his direction as a greeting which made Bradley repeat the motion.

It wasn’t a handshake, but it was a start.

Michael watched with interest, “I think I saw a smile,” he begins, “Or he’s constipated. Either way, not bad.” he smirks, leaning back onto his chair with his legs crossed by the ankle. Rooster laughed quietly, relaxing his shoulders just a bit and in turn making the other brother chuckle, “Nervous huh?”

“I’m only human.”

“Yeah…you drink?”

Rooster looks back at Michael who had his arms crossed over his broad chest, “I do, yeah.”

“Ever had grappa?” the pilot shakes his head negatively, making a smile spread over Michael’s mouth, “Ohoho, nice. You’ll drink a lot of it tonight.”

Amazingly, talking with Michael and Leonardo wasn’t bad, they were actually helping him loosen up a little. Even if he sometimes could feel Guillermo’s eyes on him from his own seat, he wasn’t as tense as before. He dragged his eyes to the groom, Sebastian, a man much shorter than everyone else with a receding red haired hairline and freckles, skinny as a twig. Michael told him that his aunt Martha and Sebastian were married on paper ever since 1981 and they decided to have this ceremony after they both turned sixty-five.

That was the age that Bea’s father shared with his twin sister. Now, he was a bit far from Bradley but there was no way he’d consider the man to be older than fifty, especially with that amount of hair. He wondered if it was like Mav who looked the same as he remembered when he was much younger.

Time passed fast, enough for them to rise and watch as the flower girls walked in. He had no idea who the first two were, but he knew Bianca. With her poofy light blue dress and the flower crown on her head, she looked like a little pixie without wings. Unlike the first two girls who seemed almost shy, Bianca was twirling and tossing flower petals in the air, grabbing a handful and letting it go with a loud ‘Ya!’.

Cynthia was filming her daughter with a smile, while Leonardo looked extremely proud, “Hi mommy! Hi daddy!’ she says as she walks past them, waving happily “Hi uncle Mikey! Hi Prince Rooster!” Bradley’s cheeks heat up, the eyes return to him when she says hello but he couldn’t help but smile, returning her wave with one of his own. He did straighten up when he saw the bridesmaids approaching alongside the groomsmen.

The groomsmen went in first, a mix and match of younger and older gentlemen wearing white shirts with green suspenders, a large pink flower on their breast pocket. But the bridesmaids, that was a completely different story. The dresses were all shades of peach or light yellow with bell sleeves, a low cut that dipped down to the sternum and slits on both sides of their thighs - but not high enough to be scandalous.

On top of every bridesmaid’s head were flower crowns, the flower shades went from dark wine colored to mustard yellow, tiny white flowers with dark green leaves mixed in between them. But he wasn’t really caring much about the outfits, unless it was Beatrice wearing. “Holy shit.” was his quiet response when he saw the brunette walk by. She sent a look his way when she heard his voice and smiled sweetly, the make up she was wearing was nothing fancy so it showed the red of her cheeks.

His head turned, following her until she walked up with the other bridesmaids, her short haired sister sending a look towards him before she neared closer to Beatrice’s ear. His girlfriend just blushed harder, giving her older sister a subtle whack on the arm with the back of her hand.

Rooster swears he tried to look back to where the bride was, he did, but his eyes kept going back to Beatrice looking even more stunning than she already was. He should probably thank her aunt for choosing the dress, his eyes dropping to the slit on both thighs and to the low cut that showed her cleavage. When he turned his eyes back to her aunt, he was surprised to see her giving him a look with a little smile, then shaking her brother’s arm as they walked down the aisle.

He doesn’t know what that meant, that little shake, but he couldn’t help but feel like Bea’s aunt was trying to help it out with her dad. Beatrice’s father turned his eyes briefly from the aisle to where Bradley stood, his light brown eyes appearing darker behind his glasses lenses, but he showed no reaction.

When they sat down and the ceremony began, he felt a tiny hand touch his. He looked to his right, seeing Bianca was seated on Leonardo’s lap and was reaching for his hand. Rooster blinked with a smile, turning his palm up for her to see. Bianca smiled, the little fist she had hidden behind her back appeared and she placed a blue colored stone on it “For you.” she whispered, “It’s magical.”

Rooster looked down at the round stone, chuckling quietly, “Thank you,I’ll keep it safe.” His response was enough for the five years old to grin and swing her legs on her father’s lap, busying herself with a flower petal that got stuck on the tulle fabric of her dress, clearly not caring about the ceremony nor the priest talking.

He slipped the stone inside his breast pocket, leaning back on his seat with his eyes already on Beatrice. She turned her gaze to the crowd from her seat next to the other bridesmaids, trying to hold back her smile when she saw him looking already, biting her lower lip to change her focus back to the bride and groom. Michael noticed the exchange but said nothing, just pursed his lips with a smile of his own, leaning back on his seat with his elbow over the chair’s top rail.

The ceremony was beautiful and honestly very charming to watch. The crowd clapped and cheered when the couple finally kissed, Bea’s aunt picking her husband from the floor since she was much taller than he was but he didn’t seem to care. As she puts him down, she tells the crowd to walk up to the winery where the party would happen, disappearing with her husband on the opposite side to change out of her long white dress.

Rooster and the others stood up, walking out of the chairs to where they could step on grass, waiting for the bridesmaids to come down. Beatrice smiled brightly when she got closer, “Hi,” she says, removing the flower crown from her head and fixing her hair, “How was it?”

“It was really nice,” he says, plucking a tiny leaf sticking to her forehead, flicking it aside, “You look beautiful.”

Beatrice’s cheeks flushed once more, but she smiled while taking his hand. Both her brothers were looking their way, with Bianca wriggling on Leonardo’s arms “I wanna go with auntie!” she announces, letting out a triumphant squeal when Leonardo finally puts her down. She rushed over, shoes no longer on her feet, latching her hand to Beatrice’s free one.

“Okay,” Leonardo says, “I’m hurt but I’ll live. We should go to the party, get our seats.”

Leonardo and Cynthia walk ahead, with Michael leisurely following behind with his hands in his pockets. Meanwhile, Beatrice, Rooster and Bianca follow the three out of the clearing and onto a stony path that led to the winery. The fairy lights continued as they walked up, the wooden poles now adorned with the same flowers from the bridesmaids crowns at the bottom.

The winery itself wasn’t huge, but followed the same Villa aesthetics from before with reds and beiges as well as pine trees like the hotel. The stony path turned into a large patio with several tables, a stage on the further corner where a DJ was setting up the playlist for the night as waiters walked by. Each table had the same flower arrangement, a bottle of wine and a glass bottle of water, the mustard-maroon color theme continued on the tablecloth and napkins.

Bianca tugged at her aunt with as much force as a five year old could drag both a twenty nine years old woman and a thirty six years old man, which wasn’t a lot, trying to get to their table. She gave up after a while, allowing her aunt to take her instead, picking her up and placing her on the soft chair, with her niece squealing happily.

Beatrice looked up at Rooster when he pulled the chair for her, “Thank you,Roos.” He just smiles, watching her sit down before he does the same next to her. Michael sits on Rooster’s right while Leonardo and Cynthia sit to Bea’s, next to where their daughter was. With most of the guests already seated, all they had to do now was wait.

But Bea’s eyes stopped at her father, who was not too far from them, talking to her uncles Roberto and Elia. She still wasn’t able to figure out a reaction out of him, but she did see how he’d move his gaze to their table every once in a while. She gave him a small smile, even if her insides churned with nerves, surprising herself when he smiled back for a millisecond.

She moved her gaze around, seeing her sisters on another table and then the Bitch Trio who was already looking their way. The three women were clearly staring at Bradley, trying to get some type of eye contact from the pilot but without success. Beatrice’s body warmed with fury, her hand immediately clasping around his under the table, interlacing their fingers together. Rooster was talking to Michael but he immediately squeezed her hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her knuckles.

Beatrice’s shoulders relaxed, her eyes lifting to meet the triplets in a silent warning. She hadn’t moved her gaze away until they did, rolling their eyes and laughing to each other. The brunette bit her lower lip hard, holding back a curse she’d thrown their way, choosing to instead take a large gulp of water so she wouldn’t let it past her lips.

As the night went by, Beatrice couldn’t help but smile when she noticed how her brothers were getting along with Rooster. Sure, neither of them were part of the Navy or any sort of military, but their personalities just worked surprisingly well. They were all sharing weird stories of their own childhoods, even if Bradley wasn’t specific with his own, of their own troublemaking years.

She brought the wine glass to her lips with a smile, watching Michael gesture wildly with his own glass as he recalled the time they all went to Sicily and they were stuck on the cable car over Mt.Etna for fifteen minutes, with Leonardo thinking they’d all die, “Little Bitty was probably five at the time.”

Rooster furrowed his eyebrows, “Little bitty?”

“Yeah, that’s Beatrice’s nickname.” Leonardo smiles, “We’ve been calling her that since she was born.”

Bradley turned his head to face her, “You never told me that it was your nickname.” Beatrice just shrugs with a tiny smile on her face, “It’s really cute.”

Bea rolled her eyes, cutting a piece of the roasted vegetables in her plate, bringing it up to her mouth, “She was a tiny baby,” Michael explains, even if his eyes somber a little, “So our dad thought it’d be fitting to call her that.”

Rooster noticed how the three siblings shared a sad glance with one another, but it was soon covered up by smiles as Michael recalled some other story from their childhood. They continue their chat without issues, but Michael’s light green eyes looked over his shoulder to where he could hear the cacophony of Italian coming from behind, “Come on, you gotta meet our cousins.” he tells Bradley after chugging the last drops of wine and standing to his feet, “Come on Leo, you too.”

Rooster sent Beatrice a look, but she just nodded with a smile. “I’ll be right back.” he says, pecking her lips quickly, doing that for the first time since they got to the wedding party. He fixed himself the best he could before walking with Michael and Leonardo to a group of men laughing amongst each other.

Cynthia,Beatrice and Bianca were left alone, with his brother’s wife sending her sister in law a look,”He’s crazy for you.” she begins, “You should’ve seen the way he was looking at you when you were with Martha.”

“I’m crazy for him too, Cyn,” she confesses with a smile, “I just want people to like him, you know? He’s so wonderful.”

“Well, the boys like him already.” Cynthia says, nodding in the direction of the group of men not too far from where they sat “I think that’s a good start.”

And indeed it was a good start.

One of Beatrice’s Italian cousins, an aviator for the Italian Navy called Umberto, took great interest in Rooster’s own experience. And Rooster was happy to share some information with him, the two men immediately getting along with their stories of deployment. Umberto’s thick Italian accent didn’t deter the chatting, the other male cousins joining in soon after.

“I feel weird standing here,” Michael says when the two aviators are in deep conversation, but he’s grinning, “It’s like watching the popular kids talk.”

“Yeah,” Leonardo chuckles, watching Rooster and Umberto share a laugh at something that clearly was Navy related, “I mean, it’s still cool, right?” he looks back to where their little sister sat, sipping on her wine, “She looks happy.”

Michael turns his gaze to Beatrice as well, with a little smile, “She does. He isn’t a bad guy. I like him.”

“She’s worried Guillermo or dad won’t like him.” Michael rolls his eyes, digging his hands in his dark blue pants pockets “I mean, you know how they are.”

“Fuck’s sake, she’s almost thirty.” Michael hisses quietly to his younger brother, looking to where Guillermo was seated with his wife, “They keep doing this shit, she’s just going to back away from them more and more. Guillermo isn’t dad, and dad isn’t going to bring back younger Beatrice into this life…I know why he does it, but he should really give her a chance to live her life.”

“Yeah,I know.”

Michael tsks, “Enough chit chatting!” he swings his arm over Bradley’s shoulders, breaking the conversation between him and Umberto, “My dear cousins, did you know Bradley never had grappa?” The men surrounding them gasped and then laughed, some of them even clapping their hands “I think he needs to try at least once.”

It’s another cousin, Bruno, that runs towards the bar and grabs a bottle of grappa from the bartender before the man could stop him, alongside shot glasses before he rushes back, “Drink!”

The commotion from the male cousins calls Guillermo’s attention, who stands up from his table to walk silently towards the group. He shouldn’t be surprised they are all in a circle drinking grappa, nor that it was Bruno who held the bottle refilling everyone’s glass. His eyes move to Bradley who is laughing and tossing the shot back while making a face.

Another presence stands besides him, he looks down to see his father close by, “Go back to your seat, Guillermo.” his oldest son furrows his eyebrows, “They are drinking, you do not drink, there’s no reason for you to stay.”

“But, papá–” his father just gives him a look that shuts him up, the larger man frowning but backing away to his seat. Rafael takes his son’s place, his suit jacket no longer on his shoulders, his light blue dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he got closer,casually, with his hands in his pockets.

His nephews and sons were already ruffling Bradley’s hair and laughing with him, which made a little smile form on his face. He clears his throat once, the laughing dies down immediately, the group of over ten men get immediately quiet, “I hate to break the fun,” he pulls one of his hands out of his pockets, “But I’d like to speak with Bradley. Alone.”

Michael who still had his arm around Bradley’s shoulders slowly backs away, Leonardo gives the pilot a weak smile and an even weaker thumbs up. Bradley looks up to where Beatrice’s father was, fixing his suit and his hair. The cousins parted like the Red Sea for Rafael to pass through, giving Bradley a nod back towards the vineyards, “Walk with me, Bradley.”

“Yes, sir.” he says without missing a beat, the honorific making Rafael look at him with amusement as the younger man follows him away from the party and towards the vineyards. They walk for a few minutes until they are distant enough, the wind making the thick mane of black hair on Rafael’s head move periodically.

Rafael stops in front of Bradley, his hands no longer in his pockets as his arms are crossed over his chest, then turns around, “So,” he begins,”How do you like the party?”

“It’s very nice, sir.” he says, “I am enjoying it a lot

.”

Rafael hums, dropping his head to look at his shoes then back up, “Good, good. I am glad you are…but that’s not why I brought you here and I think you know that.” Rooster inhaled sharply but nodded his head, “...I want to know what your intentions are with my daughter.” He said firmly, the glasses he wore hiding his eyes from Bradley’s view since they were far away from light that wasn’t the moon.

Rooster licked his lips, the taste of grappa still lingers, but he’s sober enough to answer, “I want to make her happy, Mr.Schiavoni.” He says honestly, watching the older man’s shoulders tense up, “She means a lot to me.”

“She means a lot to me too, ragazzo.” he says with his arms still crossed, “More than you could ever imagine.” Rooster clenched his jaw, feeling the subtle threat underneath Beatrice’s father’s words as the two stood in front of each other with the party music pumping in the distance.

“I know, sir.” Bradley says in a quiet voice, “I’d never hurt her.”

“Her other boyfriend said the same thing.” Rafael spits it out with venom, his nostril curling with disgust, “You are an aviator, no? You get deployed, you are sent away from my tesoro. How will I be sure you won’t hurt her the same way? Hm?”

Rooster’s eyebrows crinkled in offense, his fists clenched by his sides as he tried to come up with a reply that wouldn’t unnerve the older man. If he messed up with her dad, he doesn’t think only her cousins’ support would help him out. “I don’t have any reason to do that. No matter if I was deployed or not.” her father just looks at him with his eyes narrowed, “She didn’t deserve what she went through.”

“No. She did not.” Rafael says with a heavy toned voice, placing his hands on his hips as he looks up at the moon, “You met her at this bar she works with, this…Hard Deck, did you think she was an easy catch?” Bradley’s head recoils in surprise, his eyes widening, “Because she was a new girl there?’

“I did not think she was an easy catch, Mr. Schiavoni. I didn’t see Beatrice as a catch, she’s not an object to be caught.” he couldn’t help but grit out the words, anger bubbling inside of him, “I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” woman, not girl, words that definitely made Rafael’s body freeze up, “...I am not a guy that sleeps around, Mr.Schiavoni, I don’t flirt with people, my relationships were short lived and never felt as strongly as I feel for Beatrice.” he pauses, “I love her, Mr.Schiavoni.”

Her father snaps his head in his direction, “Do not be ridiculous, it’s been three months you’ve been together.”

“I’m not lying about my feelings.” Bradley says without breaking eye contact, “I love her. If you want to believe it or not, that’s on you. But I’d never lie about that.”

Rafael keeps on staring, his chest heaving with nerves after Rooster’s words. He looks down at his shoes for a couple seconds, curling his lips into his mouth as he shuts his eyes with a sigh. Rooster stays where he was, digging his hands inside his pockets as he looks up at the winery, letting out a quiet breath to calm himself, looking at the older man when he chuckles, “It is funny,” Rafael begins, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers “Because my sister said the same thing…that you loved her and she loved you and I should just accept it. But it’s not easy.”

Rooster stays silent as he continues “Do you know why her nickname is Little Bitty?” the pilot shakes his head negatively, “When my wife got pregnant with Beatrice we were both in our forties. She was a welcome surprise, but the doctors were worried…she was born at seven months old. God, we were so scared, there were so many tubes– I’ve never been so scared in my life watching her in that incubator…” he then smiles fondly, “I remember, one day, that Little Bitty Pretty One by Thurston Harris started playing over the speakers and like a miracle, I saw her react and move…she spent two months in that incubator before we took her home.”

Now Rooster could understand the overprotectiveness around Beatrice, the refusal to see her as a grown woman. It was fear of what happened twenty nine years ago. He wouldn’t know if he wouldn’t be the same if it was his own child, “I had no idea.” he says, approaching the older man, looking towards the vineyards that went for miles. They watched the leaves move with the soft breeze in silence before Rafael spoke again.

“When she looks at you, her eyes shine,” the older man says with his eyes on the horizon, “I haven’t seen her like that in years.”

Bradley’s cheeks heat up, but he smiles, “She shines alright. She’s like a star.” he murmurs, not seeing how Rafael’s gaze softened when he turned to look at the young pilot. Maybe his sister was right, maybe he should give this ragazzo a chance.

“She does.” Rafael says, “And if you know that, then…you can’t be all that bad.” Rooster faces the other man, who claps Bradley on the shoulder twice. “I appreciate your honesty, ragazzo…and well, welcome.”

Rooster could barely believe it, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in relief, looking at the man with wide eyes, “Thank you, Mr.Schiavoni.”

“No, no you can call me Rafael.” he chuckles, “Mr.Schiavoni was my father….now, before we go back, Beatrice told me you could play the piano?”

“Why did you let him and dad go?!”

Leonardo and Michael recoiled in surprise when they got back to the table, Beatrice had seen the whole endeavor between her father and Brad before they walked away from the party. She’s been bubbling with nerves ever since then, Marina and Sabrina sitting down next to her when they noticed their little sister’s expression. “What did you suggest we did?” Michael exclaimed, shrugging “Held him back?”

Beatrice groaned, “They’ve been gone for ten minutes already,” she whispers, pressing her palm heels to her forehead, “I’m going after them, there has to–”

But Sabrina holds her arm,”No, let’s go to a bathroom break,” she nods to Marina so she’d come along, the three of them leading Beatrice to inside the winery. Her sisters on each side of her, dragged her to the bathroom and Marina closed the door behind them.

“Okay, okay,breathe Bea,” Sabrina said, wetting her hands to rub her cool palms on her neck, cupping her little sister’s neck as she closed her eyes, “It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.”

“Dad is going to scare him off.” she murmured in a quiet voice as Marina stood by her other side, “I don’t want to lose him. I love him.” The two oldest sisters shared a knowing look, with Marina gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Obviously,” Marina chuckled, “If that wasn’t clear enough already.” but her little sister just sighed, dropping her forehead on Sabrina’s chest, hugging her oldest sister who rubbed her back soothingly, “We will fight dad for you,sis. You look too happy to allow dad’s overprotectiveness to prevent it.”

Beatrice made a noise against Sabrina’s chest, but she relaxed, lifting her head with her eyes shining but no tears coming out, “Thanks guys, I–” the bathroom door opened, the sisters looking in the direction thinking it was a random guest. But alas, it wasn’t just a random guest.

“Why, Bea! Why are you here alone?” the triplets, they must’ve sniffed Beatrice’s distress and trotted right behind. Adriana closed the door, while Melinda and Cristina walked closer, their red painted lips appearing creepier.

“She’s not alone, you fucking bimbo.” Marina snaps, to which Sabrina sends her a look to be quiet.

Melinda giggled, “Tell us something dear little cousin,” she coos, twirling a strand of hair, “That handsome guy you were with? What 's his name?”

“Is he available?” Adriana asks, popping her head from Melinda’s left.

“Does he have brothers?” Cristina asks, appearing on her sister’s right side.

Beatrice stared at them with wide eyes. Normally, she wouldn’t bother…but she promised herself she’d defend Bradley. And she was already nervous because of her dad talking to him, so it all tumbled together into one single feeling: rage. “Are you guys serious?” she asks in one single breath, seeing the triplets smile to each other in pure glee, “Are you guys fucking serious? Are you stupid?” that made the smiles drop, “No, I’m serious, are you stupid?”

Sabrina’s slack jawed expression turned to Marina’s, who looked just as shocked.

“Why are you guys asking if my boyfriend is single? Did you not see us kissing? Did you not see us coming together?” she gave no chance for her cousins to reply, “I-I just don’t get you guys! No, he’s not available, no he has no siblings and I will NOT tell you his name! Are you all so fucking pathetic you can’t find a guy by yourselves and try to get the ones with wives or girlfriends already?”

Marina covered her mouth with a hand to hold back her surprised laughter, “And when you can’t handle things thrown your way you run and tell mommy? What the fuck! You guys are forty years old! You aren’t kids anymore! Download Tinder, go on a hike, visit a café! I don’t know! Anything else!! He’s my boyfriend, he isn’t interested,” she exhales finally, dropping her arm to her sides, “And you know what else? No one likes you three, no one! We just invite you because you are family. So maybe you should get an attitude check before doing anything else!!!”

The triplets, and her own sisters, stared at Beatrice in pure shock as the brunette panted quietly, trying to calm her wildly beating heart. The triplets looked completely destroyed and humiliated, choosing to scurry out of the bathroom in silence instead of delivering a snotty comeback. Beatrice sighed, jumping under her skin when a pair of arms hugged her around the shoulders, “You were amazing!!” Marina shouts, bouncing in place with how excited she was “Bea, that was fucking incredible!!”

“It really was Bea,” Sabrina added with a grin, enveloping her sister in another hug, “You were great!”

“...t-thanks…I just, I couldn’t let them talk about Brad like that.” she replies, hugging her older sisters’ arms, “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Yes he is.” Marina says.

“And I won’t give him up.”

“No, you won’t,” Sabrina adds with a grin.

With a sudden jolt of bravery, Beatrice lifts her head, “I’m going to talk to dad, he’s not going to do anything to take Bradley from me!” her sisters let her go so she could yank the bathroom door open, walking out towards the hallway that led to the patio. The three women were on their way over when Beatrice frowned, hearing a melody? “What’s that?”

Sabrina tilts her head to hear better, “Maybe dad’s on the piano.” she suggests, “You know aunt Martha would suggest him to.” but Beatrice recognized the rhythm and the closer she got, she could understand that there were people singing.

Too much love drives a man insane!

Her eyes widened, speeding up her step with her sisters rushing behind her.

You broke my will, but what a thrill!

When Beatrice finally reached the patio she thought she was hallucinating. There was someone on the huge piano that was brought from the lobby and was set right in the middle of the dance floor, most if not all her family members surrounding it. Beatrice felt the air leave her lung when she saw Bradley there, looking like a dream come true with his peach colored shirt and no suit jacket in sight, playing the piano just like he did at the Hard Deck.

“Goodness gracious great balls of fire!” The whole patio vibrated with everyone singing along with Bradley. Everyone, every single person was singing along with him. She watched in amazement, he was in his element and she shouldn’t be surprised at how wide his smile was or how he was bopping his head to the beat of the song. But she was surprised when she saw her father right next to the piano, singing along just as loudly.

What was happening? Did she step through a portal and ended up in a parallel universe? There were people dancing, the triplets however remained seated at their table completely alone. She walked forward, avoiding getting an elbow to the face until there was no one else separating her and Bradley.

She made no moves of getting closer beyond that, she just watched with a smile forming when he noticed her there. His fingers moved quickly over the keys, “I laughed at love ‘cause I thought it was funny,” he sings making direct eye contact with her, “You came along and you moved me honey!I’ve changed my mind, this love is fine! Goodness gracious great balls of fire!”

Beatrice’s smile now was full and bright, her cheeks reddening, she loved him immensely. God, she couldn’t believe how much she loved him. She looked around to see her whole family going along and singing and being happy and– she couldn’t help the soft laugh that went past her lips. Marina and Sabrina joined by her side, their voices adding to the chorus of people.

And Beatrice accompanied her sisters while singing along. The look of pure joy on Bradley’s face when he saw her singing could light this whole area if he so wished. He won over not only Beatrice’s cousins, but her father and now her whole family. He was having the best night of his life!

When he finished the song he was sweating like a sinner in church, but he was laughing, letting out a sound of surprise when a group of arms engulfed him in a hug and messed his hair up. Beatrice’s male cousins congratulated him, her oldest relatives hugged him and complimented his talent with kisses on both of his cheeks.

Then Rafael brought him into a hug, clapping his hand on his back, “Well done, ragazzo,” his voice said, “Well done.” Bradley pulls back from the hug, only to turn around and have Beatrice launch herself towards him. He quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, smiling into the kiss, the group around them hollering and cheering as the kiss deepened and he lifted Beatrice even higher.

She pulls back, cupping his cheeks, “I love you.” she whispers, her eyes shining just like stars.”I love you so much.”

“I love you too gorgeous,” he says back, slowly lowering her to the floor, “A whole lot.” He looks back to see the piano being rolled away from the dance floor, the DJ setting the playlist again. Since everyone had gotten up to watch his performance, they were too fired up to sit back down. September started playing, erupting another round of cheers from the guests as he looked down at Beatrice, “So,” he held out his hand, “Shall we cut this rug together?”

Beatrice smiled, interlacing her fingers with his, “I’d love to.”

They danced for a while, song after song they stayed there, twirling and dipping and just having an absolute blast in a celebration Beatrice was almost sure it’d lead to failure.

Never was she so glad she was wrong.

When the guests started to go back to the hotel, Beatrice thought it was a good idea if they did too, since the dance floor was getting empty as the night went by. She hugged her parents tightly, thanking her father for giving Brad a chance, then her siblings - Guillermo even apologized to her!- and then her aunt. Who hugged her close, kissing her cheek and then hugging Bradley, cupping his cheeks to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, “You are a light, my boy. Never stop shining.” she tells him, making Bradley’s eyes glaze over with surprised tears but he nods with a shaky smile.

They walk back through the grapevines, Rooster spinning her a few times as they walk down the path, bringing her close to him to kiss her temple soundly and enjoying how her melodic laughter echoed around the vineyard. The hotel had some quiet chatter from the guests that were still in the lobby, but overall the large hotel was very quiet.

They enter the elevator, her back to his front as they wait to reach their floor, “Mmm,” she smiles when she feels his lips on her shoulder, “That was fun, right?”

“It was a lot of fun.” he grins, kissing her jawline, “Your family is great. Your cousin Umberto is really cool.”

“Oh my God, you met Umberto! I completely forgot he’d come too,” she pauses, “Not that he’s forgettable, it's just that he’s very busy.” They step out once the elevator doors open, Beatrice pulling out the keycard from a hidden pocket in her dress, “But I’m glad you had fun.”

“I did.”

“Are you tired?”

Rooster chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair, “A little, why?”

The door unlocked, but Beatrice leaned against it, giving him a innocent shrug, “Well, you know,” she says slowly opening the door, throwing a look over her shoulder, “It’s just cause there’s this huge bathtub,” she tosses the keycard on the desk, Bradley following her inside with his eyes unmoving, “And I wanted to try it so bad.”

“Babe, I’m not against it but,-- well, your family is all around us.” he comments, following the line of her thigh that came out of the slit, his line of thought being muddled.

“I mean, yeah,” she whispers, tossing him a flirty look over the shoulder yet again, “But these walls?” she knocked on it, the soft sound of her knuckles hitting the brick was dull but present, “Very sturdy…and sound proof.”

He was already kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head as Beatrice squealed, rushing inside the bathroom, “Remember me to thank your aunt, over and over before we go.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader

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