#bts angst yoongi
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jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral
hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members
➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive
summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.
➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr
summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?
➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks
summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.
➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk
summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!
➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse
summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).
➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates
summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story
➺ tempest - by @kooktrash
summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.
➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga
summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.
➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia
summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.
➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess
➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover
summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.
#bts fic rec#fic recs#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x oc#bts angst#bts smut#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#taehyung angst#taehyung smut#jimin angst#jimin smut#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#bts fan fiction#fic rec list#namjoon angst#namjoon smut#hoseok angst#hoseok smut#seokjin angst#seokjin smut#bts masterlist#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#seokjin x reader#hoseok x reader#namjoon x reader
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The Consequences of Fucking Up
“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”
♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️
Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader
Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff
Wordcount: 15.9k
Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(
Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.
a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho
Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.
���Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.
“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.
Three months prior
“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.” He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.
“Yes. I am.”
“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”
“Yeah, you will.”
He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”
“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”
He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.
“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.
“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”
His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him.
“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.”
Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you.
“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles.
This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed.
But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him.
“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”
You slip out of his touch.
“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.
“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape.
You love him.
You always have and perhaps always will.
You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you.
One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good.
He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore.
You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.
The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way.
You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.
You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found.
“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.
The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands.
“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!
“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!”
They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.
You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.
“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?”
It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.
You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent. You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.
It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.
You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.
A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat.
The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.
The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.
You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.
“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”
Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.
The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.
Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.
Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.
“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.
“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”
“I see.”
“You?”
“Buying smokes.”
He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.
“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.
“I thought you quit.”
“Some things happened which made me start again.”
“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.
He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.
You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.
Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.
“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.
He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.
“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”
You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
“I’m not hungry.”
He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke.
“I’m offering”, he hisses.
“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily.
You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore.
You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.
“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence.
He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.
“They’re inside”, he says.
“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”
“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”
“Are you serious?”
He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.
“Very serious”, he rasps.
“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.
“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.
You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.
“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.
“My farce?”
This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.
“Did you even hear what I said?”
“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”
You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.
“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”
“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.
Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.
“Sir?”
He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him.
“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.
“Who did you talk to right now?”
“Just someone important to me.”
“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”
“She’ll get home safely.”
“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”
“You’re sober?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”
The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”
Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.
He pats him on the shoulder.
“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside.
The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.
Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.
But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.
Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.
You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.
“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.
“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”
“Check on me?”
“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you.
Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten.
Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.
Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.
“Thanks”, you mumble.
“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”
You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.
You shake your head. He straightens up in worry.
“Should I call help for you, Miss?”
You know what he indicates.
“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”
“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”
“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.”
“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.
You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.
“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”
He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”
“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”
He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.
“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.”
“He said that?” you whisper.
He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”
“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.”
“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.”
“Thank you. This is so kind.”
“You are never alone, Miss.”
“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.
He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”
“Good night.”
You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off.
You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work.
You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.
It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.
The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.
You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.
Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.
“Flames are hot”, he says.
“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.
“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.
“The same goes for you, Jay.”
“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”
“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”
“The corner in twenty?”
“Yeah.”
You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.
“What do you got?” you ask him.
“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.
“What do fifty bucks buy?”
“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”
“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”
“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”
“Fine, I’ll take it.”
You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.
“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”
Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.
“We, uhm…”
Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”
You nod your head.
“When?”
“More than two months ago.”
“Damn, that’s long.”
“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”
He cocks his brow up.
“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.
“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”
“Already?”
He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.
“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”
“Seriously?”
He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.
“See you around.”
“See…you?”
He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.
That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.
The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.
That young officer. He is in full uniform.
You open the door hesitantly.
“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.
“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.
“How are you feeling, Miss?”
“Good.”
“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”
“What’s that?”
“I caught the package thief, Miss.”
“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?
“Wait. You’re actually serious.”
“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.
“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”
“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”
He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.
“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”
He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.
“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.
“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”
“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”
“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”
A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.
“Good job, Jeon. Over.”
The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.
“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”
“Understood. Over.”
He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.
“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”
“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”
“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?
It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.
You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.
“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”
You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.
“What are you doing here all alone?”
Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.
“Leave me alone”, you tell them.
“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”
You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.
“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.
They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.
“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.
You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.
You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.
Thump.
You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.
“Let me go! Help! Help me!”
“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.
You dare to shift your eyes to them.
Yoongi.
“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly.
Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.
He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt.
“I don’t…”
“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.
You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing.
Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.
He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.
“Should we get dinner?”
His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?
“Take me home”, you order him.
“I am.”
“No. Home. Not your place.”
“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.
“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Did you see what they were doing to me?”
“No.”
You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.
“Stop the car.”
Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.
“What?” he makes sure.
“Stop. The. Car. Now.”
He laughs and shakes his head.
You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.
“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.
“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.
“Get out”, you threaten.
“I am. Fuck.”
He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.
“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.
“I’m talking now”, you roar.
Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.
“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”
Yoongi gulps.
“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”
He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum.
“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”
“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”
“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”
You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip.
“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.
You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp.
“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.
“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”
“No, you-”
“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”
You turn your back to him and leave.
He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.
“Don’t go”, he says.
You don’t listen.
“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!”
He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.
You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.
You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.
The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.
You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.
You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.
A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.
“It has always been mine as well.”
Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.
With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.
You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.
“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.
The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.
“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.
It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.
It has always been his problem as well.
Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.
V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.
You open it without checking the camera first.
“Took you long en- you?”
Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.
“I swear I’m not stalking you.”
You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.
“I’m starting to doubt that.”
He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”
“What? Why?”
“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”
“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.
“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”
You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.
“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.
“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”
You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.
You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”
“Of course, Miss.”
The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?
You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.
“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.
“Breakfast, Miss.”
“Did your captain tell you to do that?”
“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”
You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.
“Mhm, I see.”
“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.
His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.
So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.
“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.
His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.
“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.
“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.
Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.
You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”
Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.
“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.
“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.
“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.
“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.
One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.
“Apologies again.”
“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”
He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.
“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”
“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.
“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.
He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.
“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”
“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.
“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.
“We already have everything.”
“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Sir?” “What? Why?”
Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.
“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.
“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.
“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”
“Sit. Down.”
The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.
“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.
“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”
“I will go home.”
“Where is that home?”
“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”
“Shut up, Kim.”
Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.
Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.
“Where is that home, Miss?”
You lower your eyes in anger.
“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”
“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.
“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”
“Yes, there is.”
“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”
Bang!
You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.
Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.
“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.
“Sir? What are you doing?!”
“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.
“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”
“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.
“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.
“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.
Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.
“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.
“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”
Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.
“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.
“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.
He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.
“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.
“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes.
“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.
Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments.
He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut.
“What are you doing?” you gasp.
“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”
“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”
He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.
“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.
“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”
“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”
“I’m-”
‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”
You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave.
You nod your head.
Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.
“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.
“What?”
“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”
“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”
“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams
“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”
“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”
“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”
“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”
“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”
Yoongi steps closer.
“I can-”
“Sir? What is the meaning of this?”
Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking.
“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir���, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”
Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.
“Please after you, Miss.”
Yoongi says your name.
You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.
Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come.
“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.
You can hear them talk as you leave.
“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”
“Watch your tone.”
“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”
“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”
Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer.
“Are you crying, Miss??”
“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”
“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”
“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain?
“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”
“Of course, Miss.”
“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.
“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”
“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
“Of course, Miss.”
And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.
But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.
“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”
“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”
“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.
“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course, Miss.”
“Run.”
“What?”
“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”
“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.
“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”
“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”
“O…kay? I uhm…”
“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”
“Miss, are you okay?”
“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”
“I promise?”
“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”
“Miss, I-”
You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.
V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.
“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”
“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”
“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.
He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.
“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”
“What?!”
“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”
“V, what the fuck?”
“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.
“Wait. Where will you go?”
“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”
“Yeah, just…be careful.”
“You too.”
He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V.
You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.
You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.
You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.
The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.
The first enters your vision.
“Hm?”
Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone.
Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.
Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.
“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.
“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.
“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”
“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”
“Can we talk?”
“One.”
“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”
“Two.”
“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”
“Three.” “I’m sorry!”
Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.
You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.
“I’m sorry”, he whispers.
This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.
“You’re drunk.”
He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.
“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.
“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”
“You’ve always been important.”
“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”
“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”
“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”
“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”
“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.
“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”
“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”
“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”
You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”
You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same.
“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”
“Please.”
“Leave my place.”
He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.
“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”
You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.
“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”
You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.
“No”, you whimper, shaking your head.
He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser.
“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly.
He cradles your face, wiping your tears.
“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”
“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt.
“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”
He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.
“Push me away”, he tells you.
“I hate you.”
“And I love you.”
“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt.
He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss.
You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle.
You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.
“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat.
It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.
“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk.
“I do.”
His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.
You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.
“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it.
You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.
“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved.
You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.
He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.
You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.
“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.”
He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.
“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.
He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop.
“I hate you.”
“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.
You close your fingers slightly.
“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”
“You first.”
“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.
“Yoon-”
“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”
His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him.
You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.
Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you.
“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see.
You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed.
“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection.
You nod your head.
“Say it.”
“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob.
“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”
“You’re so drunk.”
“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better.
You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back.
Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.
He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.
“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.
You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.
“Ye-yes.”
“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”
The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily.
“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!”
You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.
There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms.
Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?
“I love you”, he sobs, hugging you close.
“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it.
You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy.
You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.
You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t.
“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”
“No, but I’m leaking.”
“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”
“You were pathetic doing that.”
He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek.
“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”
Your heart flutters.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Booze. Way too much booze.”
You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face.
“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.
“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”
“And you think I’d let you?”
He nods his head.
“Fuck, you’re the worst.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not.”
You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful.
You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in.
You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.
Yoongi.
He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling.
“You?”
He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly.
“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”
You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Why the fuck are you still here?”
He furrows his brows, “why not?”
“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”
He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.
“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”
Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin.
Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly.
At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug.
He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms.
“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”
He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you.
“Can you promise me?”
“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you.
The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.
“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests.
“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”
He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other.
“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.
“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”
“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”
“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.
You close your eyes, melting into his chest.
“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.
“Yeah”, you snicker.
He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do.
“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him.
“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection.
He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.
#yoongi fanfic#yoongi fanfiction#yoongi oneshot#yoongi scenario#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#yoongi romance#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#gangster yoongi#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts scenario#bts oneshot#bts x reader#bts x you#bts smut#bts angst#bts romance#bangtan smut#bangtan angst#bangtan romance#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fanfiction#bangtan scenario#bangtan oneshot#bangtan x reader#bangtan x you#requested
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Slide - MYG (18+)
Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader
Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?
Word count: 2k+
Summary:
"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"
Alternatively,
You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.
Warnings: implied smut, explicit smut, emotional sex, very sad (don't underestimate the angst huhu), depressed yoongi, reader is pining so hard lord!, creampie, unplanned pregnancy, NSFW!!
Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics
Minors do not interact!!
Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon
A/N: Lemme know if you want a part 2? (even though I already know the answer hehe).
Arrangement.
You would rather call it an arrangement - the thing that is going on between you and Yoongi. Anything you have been feeling for him, outside your usual practice, is your, solely your decision or more likely… fault.
Hence, it’s a given. A given that you shouldn’t feel your heart dropping to your stomach, crashing on whatever is available inside your body and shattering into a thousand pieces, when you find Gyuri walking inside the room.
Beside you, Yoongi tenses. His body goes rigid as the air inside the room thickens beyond repair. And all of a sudden you can’t breathe.
Now you understand why Namjoon has been avoiding to reveal the name of the artist all along.
Lee Gyuri - One of the most successful solo artist as well as Min Yoongi’s one true love, who had left him broken so bad that you once found him on the street, unconscious, vomit all over his clothes - is now back in his life… in your life, which has been revolving around him.
Where she left - You started.
You picked Yoongi up, put him into pieces, not that you were able to heal the cracks but you at least conjoined it all together.
And just like that - one night after a long heart to heart talk and a few beers, you found him seethed deep inside you. Yoongi chanted your name again and again as if it’s a mantra that will heal the cracks of his heart all while he rutted in you like a mad man.
It started from there - the arrangement.
At the end of long days and even longer nights, whenever both of you were too exhausted to go home, you spent the nights crammed together on Yoongi’s studio couch.
Quiet whispers, curse words, wandering hands, secret body parts slick with arousal - everything had made your existence dwindle dangerously through his fingers.
Yoongi always fell asleep right after but you stayed awake, tracing the slope of his nose, bow of his lips, map of his pale skin glinting in the dark.
You had made a mistake.
You fell in love.
Now as Gyuri slides inside the room with natural elegance, you hear Yoongi’s breathing getting quicker in pace.
He is anxious.
You place a hand on his knees, under the table. It’s a practiced habit that you adopted over time. Your fingertips help to calm him down.
Everything is the same.
Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t relax under your touch.
“Yoongi, can we talk for a moment?” Gyuri requests with a timid voice at the end of the meeting. Her eyes quickly lock with yours for a fraction of a second.
You half expect for Yoongi to say no. You pray to the universe for his answer to come as negative even when you know –
“Yes. Sure.”
That Yoongi never stopped loving her for a moment. Yoongi loved, loves and will love only one woman - and that’s not you.
Even though you don’t feel your legs anymore, you stand up. You choose to take the stairs to exhaust your body so that your sadness can be masked.
But even as you climb down floors after floors - your heart stays confined in that room locked with two lovers.
“She said she wants to work it out this time. She has been missing me terribly... she said.” Yoongi doesn’t look away from the blaring computer screen.
He probably doesn’t have the heart of looking into your eyes.
Somewhere he, too, knows of the deepest secrets you have been hiding from him.
“And? What did you say?” You chew on the inside of your mouth, again praying for him to answer something of your liking.
“That I will think about it.” you knew he would say that.
“What is there to think about, Yoongi? You still love her.” you force the words out of your mouth even when your throat closes up.
Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes but you blink those away.
Yoongi finally looks at you, his own eyes glinting with moisture.
“But what about you?” The question is rhetorical - metaphorical.
“Me? I will go back to where I started from.” you lie, heart threatening to leap out of your chest.
You would go back, but not where you started from, you would go back to the night when you picked Yoongi up from the street.
In simpler terms, you would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timelines.
You squeeze your eyes shut tight, pretending not to hear anything at all.
Even though you have to summon all of your willpower to do so - you stay still in your bed.
Your tears though - keep falling, rolling down the apple of your cheeks and making a small puddle inside the curve of your ear.
He keeps rambling on the door.
Sometimes the knocks are steady, sometimes infused with anger but his voice stays low. You wouldn’t hear him calling your name if you weren’t attentive enough.
“Y/N! Please open the door.” Yoongi requests again. Through the wood of your door it sounds like a whisper, “Please. I- I want to see you once.”
Every pore of your body woozes out the desire of letting him in, taking him inside your arms and never ever letting him go.
But you are afraid.
He has never once visited you by his own will.
He only tagged along when you asked him to.
So you are afraid.
Afraid of what he might say. Afraid that he might say what you don’t want to hear. You already know everything - know enough - if he points it out now that he is going to leave you behind as the love of his life is back then you might as well break down, which you definitely don’t want to do.
You have always appeared to be nonchalant before Yoongi about this arrangement, about his kisses, his marks, his simple ignorance - and you want it to stay that way.
However, your resolve breaks when you hear a sob, muffled by the door.
Is he crying? Why? Why is he crying at your door?
So you get up, pad towards the door and swing it open.
Yoongi’s head shoots up and you look at his face.
He is a mess - a mess that you love.
With dark hair all disheveled, face smeared with tears, lips chapped, Yoongi says, “I am here to end things.”
This. You were afraid of this.
Your insides churn and mold into a ball of nothingness. There are words sitting on the tip of your tongue but you choose to stay silent as always.
“Okay.” you reply, holding the door knob again ready to shut it on his beautiful face for once and for all.
Yoongi forces his hand at the edge of the door, preventing you from closing it.
He steps inside your apartment and within a few moments, you are being pushed to the door, closing it with the force of your back.
Yoongi kisses you with everything he has left inside. You kiss him back.
You don’t know what is happening but if this is for one last time, then you will accept it.
Your hands wrap around his neck on their own accord. His chapped lips mold perfectly with your moisturized pair.
They move in perfect sync, perfect rhythm - the rhythm of destruction.
“Y/N” Yoongi whispers in between the kiss, “I am sorry.”
You don’t pay his words any mind, rather you let your fingers get lost in his long dark hair.
The kiss grows hungrier by every second you spend in each other’s hold.
Yoongi starts directing you towards your bedroom and your small apartment space takes no time to be crossed.
You soon feel the edge of your bed behind your knees.
When you fall back - Yoongi falls with you.
He looks into your eyes, his own eyes telling a thousand different stories all together. But tonight, you don’t try to read those.
What’s the point when your own chapter is ending? When memories of you will be left to collect dust on the surface?
What’s the point when he knows he is going back to the one he has always loved?
His rough calloused hand comes in contact with your cheek.
“I’m sorry.” he whispers again as he reaches down to place a kiss on your forehead.
“I’m sorry.” he kisses your right eye.
“I’m sorry.” he kisses your left eye.
“I’m sorry.” this time it’s the tip of your nose.
“I’m sorry” and lastly it’s your lips.
You have never seen Min Yoongi this emotional.
After Gyuri left him, he became numb. You were never able to thaw the frozen parts of him.
But tonight you see a completely different Yoongi. Is this Gyuri’s magic? Has her return made him a human again?
Yoongi - who never touched you or kissed you more than it’s needed, is now apologizing while kissing every small part of your face?
You take a sharp breath and reply, “it’s okay.” even though you don’t know what he is apologizing for. For not being able to reciprocate your feelings? For using you when you let him? For leaving you behind after tonight?
He has already started placing kisses around your jaw, throat, collarbones. His hands fist the hem of your pajama top and he pulls it up revealing your naked chest.
He doesn’t waste time diving down and taking one of your perked nipples inside his mouth.
He sucks on it softly, sweetly - like a lover. Your tears start spilling from your eyes finally. But you completely lose it when you feel his own tears on the mound of your breast. You let him sob, as you sob quietly.
It doesn’t take much time for your clothes and his clothes to join as a hip on the floor of your bedroom.
Yoongi pumps himself, preparing for one last time to enter you. When he lines his cock on your entrance, he takes a quick glance at your face, as if asking for permission.
Your tear stained face lights up in a small smile - it’s not fake.
He enters you, takes up every corner of your walls, fills you with himself - both of your body and heart.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything anymore. He pushes himself inside you, pounds into you with an unusual pace.
His face comes to rest on the crook of your neck. You embrace him to stay there, stay with you as long as it lasts.
For the first time ever, Yoongi doesn’t fucks you - he makes love to you.
The realization makes you shudder.
Why now? Why now out of all the time? Why now when everything is ending?
His breath starts getting labored, you feel yourself hanging close to the edge as well.
And after a few more thrusts, you let go. He fills you up following your invitation.
Both of you stay like that even after the deed is done - for a moment, an hour? You don’t know.
You feel his disposal running down your inner thigh, when he finally slips out of you.
You sneak a glance in his dark orbs for one last time. With a sore throat and an equally sore heart you whisper, “Be happy, Yoongi.”
You see one last drop of tear slipping down his eyes when he dips down to cage your lips in his for one last time.
It’s been a month since that night.
It’s been a month since you last talked to Yoongi beside work.
It’s been a month since you last saw Yoongi outside work.
It’s been a month since you withdrew from Gyuri’s project.
It’s been more than a month since you had your last period.
As you stand in your bathroom, with the tiny testing kit, those two red lines mock you.
You thought that night was the last time? But this after effect - where will you go with this? Who will you confide in?
It can’t be Min Yoongi - can it?
You have let him slide through your fingers after all.
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#bts angst#yoongi angst#suga angst#bts smut#yoongi smut#suga smut#bts x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts x you#yoongi x you#suga x you#bts fanfiction#yoongi fanfic#yoongi scenarios#yoongi imagine#bts imagines#bts yoongi#bts suga#bts
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Yoongi Fic Recommendations
a - angst f - fluff s - smut
part 2
Series
In the Margins (a s f) by @bonvoyagenoona ⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.
Fix You (f a) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?
desolate (a f s) by @angelicyoongie ⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.
One Shots
Set Me Free (a f) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?
back-burner (a f s) by @yoonpobs ⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?
Love Language (a s f) by @gukslut ⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.
27 Phone Numbers (f) by @bxebxee ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school.
sweetner (f s) by @taegularities ⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.
One Chance (f) by @out-of-jams ⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.
Seasons Change (a s) by @taetaesbaebaepsae ⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.
All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) by @daechwitatamic ⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?
Now We Reign (a s f) by @oddinary4bts ⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?
take five (a f) by @jiminrings ⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.
The Final - Day 02 (s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?
hello soulmate (f) by @bluemari23 ⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned
Sugar Rush Ride (s) by @lo1k-diamonds ⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.
fuck being friends (a f s) by @strawberrynamjoon ⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.
Take One (s f) by @untaemedqueen ⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word.
Illicit Favors (f s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.
Bet On It (s) by @minisugakoobies ⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?
subscribed (s f) by @aquagustd ⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?
#bts#bts x reader#bts fic recs#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#yoongi#min yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi fic recs#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fic recs#min yoongi fluff#min yoongi angst#suga#suga x reader#suga smut#suga fic recs#suga fluff#suga angst
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minted: two (explicit) | myg
title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god
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There’s something to be said about the human gut.
Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain.
But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.
Who is this person next to you?
Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run?
You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.
How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.
Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink.
To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”
No answer.
Alright.
“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”
All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking.
Okay. Well.
You can face forward, too.
“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”
“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”
Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”
As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree.
Mm. Does he?
From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down.
If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…
What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?
Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.
Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you!
Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too?
But that taxi drive…
Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff.
Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved.
All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is.
How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.
That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”
A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.
But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on?
One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…
Floor…
There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling.
But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with.
And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are.
“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.
Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?
Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.
You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.
The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?
How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home.
And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors.
Perfect.
“What.”
You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”
He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.”
…Is that really his only response?
“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.
“But it’s what you need.”
“Say what now?”
The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket.
But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends.
This is all too much.
“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.”
You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”
“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”
“You serious?”
“Yes, I am. So move.”
Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily?
…Oh.
That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian.
But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization.
No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun.
He did keep you alive that whole chase.
But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.
So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.
Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again.
Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done.
And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again.
Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal.
Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back.
No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance?
You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic.
Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening.
And someone’s inside?
Wait.
Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.
Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches.
However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire.
Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not.
You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse.
And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.
Yeah, you fucked up.
Fuck.
Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—
As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change.
What was that about?
“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”
“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline.
“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”
You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?
The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.”
Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.
Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.
Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!
In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”
“Shower.”
“What?”
“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.”
“It isn’t mine.”
“I know.”
Your mouth snaps shut.
Fuck. Yoongi’s right.
“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.”
When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls,
“Not interested.”
Oh. He’s…
Oh.
But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial?
The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”
A lie.
Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.”
Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core.
Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom.
Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”
“Closet.”
Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”
“Yes, princess.”
You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not.
The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room.
Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on?
As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here.
The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.
Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot.
Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light.
At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.
The whole setup is lavish.
Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use.
Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld.
Too bad you aren’t alone.
As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead.
Uhh.
What.
You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—
“You good?”
Fuck!
You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.
“You ever knock?”
“No.”
“Shocker.”
He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”
“Move.”
You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”
“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.
Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.
A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin.
You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air.
Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done.
Almost.
When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing.
Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state?
Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.”
Again with that little slant.
Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life.
“Suit yourself.”
You look up again.
But he’s already left you alone.
Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.
Why did you walk left today instead of right?
Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl.
The blood will never wash out.
Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.
Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.
Because at least you succeeded.
But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved?
Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.
Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.
You chose left today.
If you had chosen right…
Doesn’t matter.
Your palm tingles.
Blood never really washes out.
Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.
Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.
You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.
Thank the universe.
But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck.
Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright.
Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!
You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”
Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?
The duffle rests at his feet.
Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still.
No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut.
How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—
Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”
“You took too long.”
“So? That doesn’t—”
“In my shower.”
Wait. What? “Oh.”
You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.”
“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”
“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”
“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.”
Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel.
Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?
Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”
Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”
“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.”
You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them.
Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.
On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer.
Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so.
Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside.
A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.
Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.
Do not engage do not engage do not engage.
Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your—
“You’re really mad about that, huh.”
You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”
“There was a cup of them on your table.”
“So why didn’t you grab those instead!”
Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”
Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”
“You were going to.”
As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.”
Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”
You blink at his deflection.
What was that about? What is that look for?
Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”
“Shopping.”
“Mmhmm.”
Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette.
And just like that, the conversation dies.
It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible.
But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly.
Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead.
Your noodles.
Your noodles.
You’re not hungry anymore.
Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill.
Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—
A hand.
A robed arm.
Your new utensils come back into view.
But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there.
Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes,
“Eat.”
Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain?
“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.”
“You are.”
“Not anymore.”
Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.”
The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.
“Thought you of all people would hate that.”
“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”
“Then eat.”
“I literally can’t—”
“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.”
“What?”
Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight.
“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.”
“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.”
“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”
“Don’t.”
Both of you still at your words.
And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin.
Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.”
You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier.
Yoongi looks pissed as hell.
But he hasn’t moved.
And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again.
You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today.
Fuck, you wanna hurl.
“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”
Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”
“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”
There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”
You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”
You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”
Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.
“Like I said.”
Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair.
“It’s better in the long run.”
Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this.
But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.
Fucking hell, this sucks.
Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes.
Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.
As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too.
Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers.
“What were you looking for.”
Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth.
“Did you find it.”
You swipe at both your eyes.
As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?”
“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.”
“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?”
Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.
This man is more dangerous than you thought.
“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”
“But I have what you want.”
You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”
“If you stay, I’ll show you.”
When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion.
And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl.
When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”
The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat.
Good riddance.
He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure.
But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out.
Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home.
Yearning pierces right through your chest.
The elevator is right over there.
You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.
Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No.
Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too.
How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase.
Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep.
Was that the elevator?
You cut the water off with a twist.
Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety.
A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room.
And your defense mechanism blares.
But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why?
You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too?
Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay?
Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?”
“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.”
Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?”
Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”
“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.”
Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”
“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.”
Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes.
“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.”
Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms.
There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest.
Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs.
“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.”
Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.”
Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine.
Well.
So much for leaving.
You may spend more time here than you thought.
With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call.
Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.
Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that.
Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now.
It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space.
Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere.
As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator.
So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”
Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”
Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”
“Do you always ask this many questions?”
You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”
“You’re quiet with me.”
“And even then I get you to talk.”
Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area.
God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet.
When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below.
Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out.
Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart.
That was so long ago.
You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time.
“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”
You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem.
Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.
Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm.
But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some.
Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter.
Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.”
“Do you even drink?”
“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”
Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.
It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying.
“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.
“This sector?”
“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.”
“It’s usually silent, too.”
Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.”
“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.”
You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”
He takes the offered can. “Mm.”
That answers that.
You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.
Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present.
The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs.
You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se.
Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day.
“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.”
“Why not?”
“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?”
“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”
“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”
“I know.”
Your look carries a slight pang.
“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.”
You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see.
But when it’s open, you freeze.
It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New.
Wait.
These patterns.
These are il-don?
Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless.
You’ve never seen them like this.
“They’re some of the last in mint condition.”
The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?”
“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.”
You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?”
Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.”
You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter.
Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.”
“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”
You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?”
Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?”
“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?”
Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.”
Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”
Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.”
“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”
“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”
“We? Leave me out of this.”
“Too late.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,
“I—”
“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”
Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.
Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself.
“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”
Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear,
“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”
Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe.
Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”
“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”
What.
“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”
Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…”
With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”
Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”
“Could’ve taken another train.”
“Stop.”
“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”
What the fuck is happening right now?
Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.
This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.
“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.”
Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away.
“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose,
“I should’ve left you for dead.”
Wait.
Stop.
This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.
Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?
Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—
Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.
“Go ahead then.”
Oh, this man is psychotic.
“Be my guest.”
No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”
“If you regret it, why waste time—”
“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”
Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever.
And it is frightening.
All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”
“Why.”
“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”
“You sure?”
“Yes!”
Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—
“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.”
You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”
When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist.
But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.
“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.”
“Shut up—”
“But your will is weak.”
“I swear to—”
“Guess I was wrong.”
Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually.
But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you.
Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power?
Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?
Quite literally, you’re the one on top.
And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk.
He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can.
But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.
This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it.
And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.
With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.”
He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged.
Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes,
“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”
Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,
“That’s my girl.”
The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning.
To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it.
But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same.
So you quell that monster pacing in your core.
One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be.
“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.”
Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin.
Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.”
His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend,
“This world has already tried enough.”
Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again.
As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”
You slightly turn.
“You still want to go back?”
A pause. A nod.
His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it.
Quite the opposite. And that scares you more.
“If you do, you’re dead to me.”
Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else.
But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations.
“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,
“I know.”
The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip.
And you freeze.
Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate.
But fuck, you kinda want to.
Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed.
“What made you stay.”
A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…”
Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to.
And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.”
With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest,
“What a shame.”
Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong?
He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore.
“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.”
And just like that, he releases you to stand alone.
Oh. You’re going home.
Good.
This is good, right?
Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short.
What was that? What was any of that?
Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over.
…But do you want it to be?
Yes.
Of course you do.
Clouds let moonlight shine again.
When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.
A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.
Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real.
Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane.
Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.
And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging.
You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out.
How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed?
They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets.
They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—
A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes.
So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.
Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams.
Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own.
You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.
A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion.
There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air.
Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out.
The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too?
One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.
But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?
Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness.
Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start.
Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do.
This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.
As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows.
Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity.
For nothing.
All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all.
Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal.
What a shame, indeed.
As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.
And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder.
Fuck everything.
“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.”
Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares.
“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”
This is it.
The brink of no return.
Your soul dips into the dark.
“Please make me fucking forget.”
—
—
⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist
a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ 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: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist
#PART TWO IS HEREEE#bts fic#bts imagines#bts reactions#yoongi fic#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#yoongi smut#bts smut#bts fanfic#*latest#ryenwrites#minted#*ryenfictalk#tw: violence#tw: blood#tw: murder
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what love feels like ༓ myg (m)
✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.
Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader
AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au
Rating: M, 18+
Word Count: 6.7k+
Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content
sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together
Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie
a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰
“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”
With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.
Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.
It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?
Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.
“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”
“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.
“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."
“Oh, well that’s very–“
“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.
“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”
Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.
“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.
Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”
As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”
“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.
“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”
With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.
“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”
The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.
“What did you say your last name is?”
You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.
“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.
“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.
“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”
Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.
“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”
“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”
“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.
There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.
Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?
“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.
“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”
“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”
“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.
“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.
“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”
Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?
This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.
“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.
“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."
Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.
For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.
Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.
Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.
“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”
What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”
“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.
You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.
“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.
“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."
With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.
"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.
"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"
You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.
"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."
"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.
"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"
"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.
"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."
Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."
"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.
"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"
You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"
"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."
The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.
"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."
That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.
"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.
"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."
"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”
"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."
Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."
Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.
"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.
"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.
"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.
"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.
"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.
"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"
Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.
"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.
"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"
"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."
"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"
"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."
"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"
Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."
Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"
"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"
"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."
It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.
"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."
"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.
"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.
"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.
The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.
Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.
"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"
Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"
"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"
"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."
You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.
"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"
"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"
"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.
"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.
"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."
"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.
"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."
"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.
"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.
"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.
Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.
What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.
You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.
"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.
"'m, I love you too."
Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.
"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.
"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."
He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"
You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.
"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."
You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.
"Yoon?"
"Mm."
"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.
"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.
"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.
"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.
You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.
"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."
Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.
"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."
His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.
"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."
Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.
"But...you haven't seen me–"
"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."
"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."
Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.
"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.
Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.
"Can I?"
You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.
With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.
"Fuck," you swear.
"Feeling good?"
All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.
"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.
"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"
He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.
Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.
"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."
"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"
Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.
Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.
You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.
"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.
"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."
Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"
"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.
"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.
"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.
"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.
"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."
"Really? You're not just teasing me?"
Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.
"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.
Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.
"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.
Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.
"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."
Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.
"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."
"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"
Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.
"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."
"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"
"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."
"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.
"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.
This is what love feels like.
a/n: LMK what you think 🥰
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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton
#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi x reader#yoongi fanfic#bts imagine#bts smut#bts fluff#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts au#fic:whatlovefeelslike#kookslastbutton
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i can fix them (no really, i can't) (m.list)
summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life?
pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader.
content. cursing words, angst, suffering, slow burn, eventual-really eventual fluff, mature themes such as drugs and violence. every chapter will have their own warnings at the very top.
a/n. this is the first bts related fic i've ever posted and i hope for the best!! ofc this is inspired by i can fix him by taylor swift in case you were wondering. and this story wasn't really planned (no news for me), but it's all i've been thinking and writing about all this week, so i decided to post it! the chapters list will be posted as soon as i can! love you all and thank u for the support!
bts masterlist
chapter list.
i. absence
ii. coincidence!
iii. injustice
iv. intrusive
v. remorse
vi. disclosure
vii. coming soon...
updates will be weekly or biweekly, depending on the progress of each chapter.
#bts x reader#bts angst#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts imagines#kim taehyung x reader#taehyung fanfic#jimin x reader#seokjin x reader#namjoon x reader#yoongi x reader#hobi x reader#hoseok x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#jungkook angst#taehyung angst#jimin angst#namjoon angst#yoongi angst#seokjin angst#hobi angst#hoseok angst#bts ot7#ot7 x reader
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Every Little Thing
Yoongi x Reader
Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.
Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)
Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread
A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?
Masterlist
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As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.
Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.
As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.
“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.
“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.
“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.
“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”
You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?
“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”
Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”
“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”
You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.
Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?
Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.
“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.
No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.
“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”
“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”
“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.
You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?
Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.
You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.
Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…
Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.
It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.
So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?
You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.
‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.
Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.
‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.
For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.
One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.
“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.
“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.
Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.
“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.
“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.
You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.
It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.
Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.
Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.
“It’s Yoongi.”
You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.
Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.
Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.
“What are you doing here?” You asked.
“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.
“I-, I haven’t-”
“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.
Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.
“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.
He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”
“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”
“You haven’t been-”
“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”
“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.
You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”
“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.
“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”
“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!
“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”
He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.
“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”
You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.
“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.
You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.
“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.
“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”
“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.
“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.
“You wanna try again?” You offered.
He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”
You nodded. “If you want to.”
He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.
“I love you, Y/n.”
He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.
When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.
“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.
“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.
Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz
#yoongi drabble#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x reader#yoongi scenarios#yoongi oneshot#bts x y/n#bts x reader#bts requests#bts angst#bts fluff#bts drabble#bts one shot#7ndipity
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pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 10k
glimpse: yoongi doesn't want to move on from his ex because she's everything he's ever known, whereas you want to move on from him because he's everything you've ever loved.
alternatively, yoongi's your best friend and you've been in love with him your whole life.
[ angst, fluff, friends to Not Friends to lovers, pitiful amounts of Yearning And Pining, emotional constipation, second lead taehyung being unbearable And delicious somehow, jealousy, the harrowing argument of what it means to seek growth n seek comfort, VINDICATION!!!, redemption ]
notes: because i've decided that i will never become sick of writing lovers who are doomed but not really, here we are 🙂↕️🙂↕️ to get the full experience, pls listen to the song that was the inspo behind this!!
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!
Yoongi's only ever been with one woman his entire life.
Ever since he turned old enough to introduce someone to his parents without them mistaking it for puppy love, which in his case was at seventeen years old, Yoongi quickly realized that he doesn’t ever want to introduce anyone other than Haein.
Yoongi, at his fresh age of seventeen, made a pact to himself to never bring someone home again if it’s not Haein, because bothering a nineteen-year old you for your own house slippers to lend to his girlfriend (he didn’t want to spend his allowance buying a nice pair when he could just sacrifice his dignity by groveling at your feet for it) was too much of a hassle.
He didn’t like the fuss that came with forming crushes. Yoongi’s spent countless nights scrutinizing his first love’s actions during recess and microanalyzing her tone towards him from the morning earlier— he doesn’t want to go through any of that again.
He doesn’t want the grown-up equivalent of it either, because all throughout high school and some bits of college wherein he and Haein were together and totally not broken up in a perpetual on-off cycle as usual, Yoongi thought that he was set for life with her.
Unlike you, he hasn’t had his share of multiple first kisses. Yoongi, not even once, stepped into a bar with wandering eyes and a hopeful perk to his tone. He hasn’t worried about making first impressions again, nor has he ever had to ask how many people came into the picture before him.
In Yoongi’s eyes, it’s only been Haein the entire time. There’s no before, during, and after her, even if the last phase in time is just something he hopes for and is not set into stone.
It’s still Haein for him, the kind, starry-eyed girl that wore your house slippers when she stepped foot into his childhood home for the first time to meet his parents, and it’s been her ever since.
It’s still her, because she never knew that the slippers she wore was actually yours, which made it her one and only designated pair, so much so that she even took it with her when she moved in with Yoongi in their shared apartment.
It’s still her, because you’ve gone through multiple pairs ever since, and so did the boyfriends you took home to meet your family.
It’s still Haein, because Yoongi hasn’t moved on from her even if they broke up for good (or atleast that’s what you’ve heard in verbatim and what Yoongi refuses to confirm) a year ago.
"There's nothing wrong with being with someone new," you snort, your tone bordering on condescending to which Yoongi predicted correctly, simply because you’ve had this conversation a million times already.
You told him that in your attempt to comfort him when Haein broke up with him back on the second semester of their first year in college, wherein he found himself wailing against your sheets at your dorm.
You told him that in your attempt to appease him when he broke up with her during their junior year, wherein he had to wipe at his tears furiously before fixing his tie because it was only hours before your graduation and both your parents downstairs are calling for a picture.
You tell it to him now too, in your attempt to convince both Yoongi and yourself, as he starfishes on your couch while reminiscing what could’ve been another anniversary (albeit choppy and not at all continuous) of the first time they held hands.
"Yes there is," he groans, his emotions maturing enough not to cry helplessly unlike the past breakups, but not enough to stop glomming onto you. “I don't want to talk about my favorite color again. I don't want to answer how many siblings I have. I don't want to be asked the extremely quirky question of whether I think pineapple belongs on pizza or not, again!"
"It's only normal to introduce yourself again and again until you find the right one for you!" you laugh, your self-built amusement keeping the entire situation light for you because if you don’t find a way to distract yourself from Yoongi holding onto Haein pathetically, just like how you do so with him, you’d be as devastated as him.
You’d be devastated too if you realize that there’s little to no chance of earning back the only person you’ve ever truly loved, if not more— except you’re not Yoongi, and he’s not Haein.
What you have to go through is more devastating because Yoongi’s never really been yours in the first place.
"But I want Haein to be right for me," he whines, his eyes sleepy from all the fatigue that comes with driving all the way to your place, just so he could be miserable around you and not apart from you. “Even if she's not, I want it to be her."
You’re quiet for awhile, and Yoongi doubts your silence because you’ve only ever chewed his ear off whenever he started moping about Haein. He’s noticed it ever since you were young; you’d never let a single second pass without overwhelming him with your words whenever he thought too deeply, too lowly about anything. You didn’t give him a break to even think when it comes to times like these, so Yoongi grows even more concerned when you give him a break.
He’s used to the noise that is you trying to distract him from everything that pains him.
"For the record, you already did those things twice in your life,” you murmur after some time, looking up from the glass of wine that Yoongi poured you and bought for your collection before he made the decision of crashing out over Haein in your living room.
"Oh my god, did I kiss someone while I was drunk? When you dragged me out for drinks last week? When-… when it was, uh, when it was the anniversary of me and her moving in and-…”
"No, you monogamous asshole," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You did it with Haein."
"What are you talking about?" Yoongi tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend what you’re saying.
You still look annoyed at him, as you’ve always done whenever he comes to you crying about her, but now, you look more subdued; like you’re a little more melancholic for god knows what reason (Yoongi knows it’s definitely not about him and Haein’s breakup), and a little less agitated at having to have this conversation for the nth time.
"I knew you first, Yoongi," you remind faintly, shoulders offering a weak shrug. "You had to do it all over again for Haein when she came into your life, but I don't see you complaining."
Yoongi hits pause on his agony to frown slightly, sitting up on your couch in order to nudge you with his shoulder. ”But that's different because I grew up knowing you. It's only natural for you to know me this way.”
The snort that leaves you borders on offensive, and Yoongi automatically narrows his eyes when he senses the hint of sarcasm in your smirk.
”You mean know you as intimately as your one and only girlfriend did? Maybe even more than Haein actually does know you?"
"If you put it that way it sounds weird, but yeah," Yoongi scoffs defensively, crossing his arms on his chest before looking up at the high ceilings of your apartment in surrender. “Aren't just close friends basically lovers without the formalities?"
Yoongi’s only ever been with one woman his entire life.
You figure it’s because of that so he doesn’t know what he’s saying.
You figure it’s because of Haein’s monopoly on his feelings and experiences that you convince yourself that Yoongi hasn’t been kicked around enough, to realize that what he’s saying is enough for you to assume a higher, closer place in his life.
You figure that Yoongi only knows love because of Haein and not love itself, enough for him to tell you that being close friends with him is the equivalent of loving him in that light, only without the coveted crown that comes with being his first and only love that Haein still possesses.
"You're right," you mutter, downing the rest of your wine and the assumption that Yoongi knows it’s him whom your hearts yearns for. "It does sound weird when you put it that way."
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s a manny.
More specifically and less confusingly, Yoongi’s a male nanny and he enjoys the job.
When you graduated two years earlier than he did, all he talked about was how happy and envious he was for you over being born earlier than him. He told you that you were unfair (and so were your parents) by bringing you to the world earlier and not as the same time as him, even detailing how he wants to be just a day older than you instead of you being ahead by two full birthdays.
When you graduated two years earlier than him, proving just how lucky you were (even if Yoongi argues that it’s your sheer intellect and not something as silly as luck) by landing a coveted job, all Yoongi could talk about was how he wanted to follow in your footsteps.
He’s not in the place where you are now, and although neither of you are bitter about it, some part of Yoongi still thinks what could’ve been.
“I should’ve never brought it up,” you apologize sincerely, nudging him with your knee to get the point across because you didn’t really mean to throw him into a loop.
You’re sure that Taehyung, your colleague who’s one year your junior and knew both you and Yoongi from college, didn’t really mean to offend the latter either, or atleast that’s what you think.
You only opened up about your brush-up with Taehyung in the elevator because it was your first time bumping into each other having worked in the same company for so long, and you thought (read: thought) that Yoongi would be amused about the interaction too.
You thought that Yoongi would be amused about your encounter with Taehyung because the third question he asks you (the first asking how you were doing and the second asking if you were single) ventures straight to Yoongi and what he was up to.
You thought he’d be amused that Taehyung still remembers how the both of you were attached to the hip despite being apart in year levels, but with the way Yoongi scowls (even for just the briefest second), you knew that you hit a sore spot.
“Nah. It’s okay,” Yoongi exhales, glossing over the random question of Taehyung asking if you were taken before willing himself to forget it completely, and moving onto the facet that you thought offended him. “It pays well, honestly. I didn’t think I would ever score a job like this.”
“Me neither,” you shrug lightly, being relieved when you see the playful roll of Yoongi’s eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he whines, throwing his head back in faux annoyance, to which he may or may not attribute to Hwayoung’s (one of the children he looks after) tendencies.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Yoongs. It’s just that, well, I pictured that you’d be this hotshot data analyst, or I.T, or something equally as technical and now-…” you trail off, the smile in your face genuine. “You’re a hotshot nanny.”
“This wasn’t my dream. You knew that,” he snorts, asserting his point by once again bringing up your extensive knowledge about him. “But I was just strapped for cash this one time, and I was behind on rent and my stupid, complicated job at my old company didn’t pay on time– then you already knew about my neighbors being these newlyweds with twin babies and before I knew it, I was looking after them! I was making bank by staying up like I’ve always done, and I get an audience when I’m talking to myself!”
Yoongi doesn’t overestimate your familiarity for him, and neither does he overestimate your sincerity towards his decisions. You judge him, sure (you’ve never made your annoyance for his weakness for Haein and his affinity for their backwards-moving relationship a secret), but you’ve never actually discouraged him from anything.
You didn’t talk him out of getting back with Haein all those breakups ago.
You didn’t talk him out of applying for unrelated jobs outside of his degree.
You don’t talk Yoongi out of anything, even anyone, that’s capable of bringing him joy.
“You love what you’re doing and you’re earning a shit ton. You don’t have to be affected by what an old classmate is asking.”
“That old classmate is working in the same Fortune Global 500 company as you are,” he chuckles just a little bit bitterly, making you nudge his knee a little harder this time. “But still,” he deadpans. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it. I can consider this as practice anyway.”
“You’re… opening up a babysitting company…?”
“Stupid,” Yoongi snickers, squeezing your knee tightly before his hold disappears. “No! I mean practice before I have a family in the future!” he laughs, shaking his head at you as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world; as if his optimism for a future with Haein isn’t persistent. “I don’t know what’s Haein’s take on working if we ever do have children, but either way, it’s nice to know that I already have the basics mastered.”
Whenever you least expect it, even if you should know by now after spending so much of your life with Yoongi, he reminds you of your place.
“You and Haein aren’t even together now,” you mutter, keeping your gaze low.
“Can you shut up?” Yoongi groans, slouching in his seat. “I’m not saying we’re gonna have a family now. I’m saying maybe we’ll have one in the future.”
“But you’ve been broken up for years.”
“Again, Y/N,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, the playfulness between the two of you slowly but surely dissipating. “I need you to be quiet.”
( ♡ )
Your parents like throwing thanksgiving parties for you and your siblings.
It’s quite literally the joint event for all seasons because your parents don’t even dare to set out cake for anyone outside of your family to eat when the holidays come, promising to make the party they excessively fuss about to be an umbrella for the rest that they miss throughout the year.
It’s an event that none of you really asked for but your parents insist on anyway; mostly to celebrate their accomplished children, and just a tiny bit more to brag about the lives they’ve managed to cultivate.
Yoongi, like for every other thanksgiving party that your parents have thrown, shows up in his most prized suit. It’s his most expensive and cleanest one to date, and it’s a suit that he reserves only for your parents’ shenanigans; not for a relative’s wedding, and not for a rich friend’s event either — he wears it just for you.
“I’d hate to be your unemployed cousin during this time of the year,” he jokes, being unable to look around the room without locking eyes with atleast one of your relatives or mutual friends and waving at them, yet Yoongi’s not really peeved about it at all.
“Yeah, that side of the family hates us,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening when you realize that you have nothing to be anxious about, especially when you’re just across the person who knows you the most.
You have your fun in these thanksgiving parties, and Yoongi has his own. Your definition of fun means owning up to your achievements and not attributing them to luck, poking fun at your siblings behind their backs, and maybe striking up a conversation or two with a family friend that you forgot was more handsome than you thought he’d be.
Yoongi’s fun on the other hand, only ever revolved around you and Haein when it comes to these parties. Now that the latter wasn’t invited this year and he’s not capable of trailing after her like a puppy, feeling like an outcast amongst a sea of accomplished individuals, Yoongi can now trail after you, feeling like he belongs.
“Look at my parents. They keep boasting about you so much, you’d think they gave birth to you,” he nods his head to them, talking your aunt’s ear off as they keep gesturing to you, grinning when you catch their gaze.
“I don’t look at you as a brother. Gross!” your nose scrunches, making Yoongi roll his eyes and subsequently kick you lightly in the shin.
The two of you, thankfully, are okay. The awkward conversation that transpired about Taehyung’s curiosity and Yoongi’s own insistence of a future with Haein seems to never have sprung up in the first place.
You’ve known each other for a lifetime; it only felt appropriate, nevermind unhealthy, to let familiarity take its toll to make the two of you complacent enough to not apologize to each other and still be okay by the next day.
“My parents didn’t graduate college, but you knew that already,” Yoongi talks, gaze still holding out to his parents from a distance like it’s a stare he can’t break off because his eyes feel too comfortable. “They found a lot of things– a lot of people annoying because they made them feel inferior, but we never felt that way with your family, y’know?”
You’re not one to deny the distance between you and Yoongi; everything from your age difference, to how your childhood house overlooked his, and even to the feelings you share and don’t share, there’s an imbalance the two of you would never be able to tip.
“Your parents are genuine, close friends with my own, and your family never pitied ours,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in gratitude as he does so.
“I know that,” you return the sincerity, eyes set on his while his gaze is directed elsewhere. “But where’s all this coming from?”
“I see the way you look at me,” Yoongi shrugs, the second that it takes him to turn his attention to you making you falter.
You don’t know if you’re more scared or relieved at the possibility of Yoongi knowing about your feelings.
“And how do I look at you?” you test the waters, tilting at your head to try and closely gauge the tiny smile on his lips, but you come up empty.
“I can’t tell exactly, but you always look at me with some sort of guilt.”
“Why would I look at you with guilt?” a breathless laugh escapes you, the ease plastered on his face making you more and more pressured.
“I don’t know either! You tell me,” Yoongi laughs brightly, slinging an arm across your shoulder to which no one bats an eye to, because although they don’t know the two of you as well as you know each other, they have a semblance of it.
They know how you and Yoongi are friends; how you and Yoongi are close friends who are basically lovers without the formalities.
“We’ve known each other for a lifetime, Y/N. There’s nothing about one another that could surprise us anymore.”
“That sounds so boring,” you mutter, the words slipping out of you before you could even control them, effectively dampening the sentimental mood that Yoongi’s in.
“Excuse me?” he asks, a little bit offended but a lot more hurt over your comment.
“We’re not always gonna be the same, Yoongi,” you continue, staring at your feet with your voice low because it’s not like you can retract your words anymore; they’re as out there as you are when it comes to loving Yoongi silently.
“Do you… not want to be friends with me anymore?” he whispers, arm suddenly stalling as he tries to deduct whatever the hell you could possibly mean.
“Where did that come from?”
Yoongi chuckles uneasily, almost regretful he even said that outloud in fear of manifesting it.
“I don’t– I-I don’t know! It’s just weird with the way you’re talking. Like you purposely want us to change.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t,” he emphasizes. “If you’re already comfortable with the life that you have now, you don’t need to change,” Yoongi blinks slowly, unfamiliar with the way your eyes lack emotion. “I have you. I have the manny job. I have Haein.”
You’re quiet as you let Yoongi think and simmer in whatever he had to say, and he hates it.
“Is this life not enough for you yet?” he asks hesitantly, the premature scoff that leaves his throat making the bitterness linger for the slightest second. “What more could you want?”
You want to say it’s only him whom you lack, but you stay quiet.
You give Yoongi both the silence and the space to think, and he realizes that he’s never wanted to be overwhelmed by you more.
( ♡ )
Things have been awkward between you and Yoongi.
You didn’t mean to sound beyond ungrateful and out of touch, but simply (and maybe even arrogantly) put, Yoongi just didn’t get it.
He didn’t get where you were coming from because he’s only stayed in one place long enough to call her his future. He didn’t get what you could be possibly going through because Yoongi only longs for comfort and not change because the latter wouldn’t benefit him in any way.
He’s right about him having the manny job makes him happy because he gets a heavy check and a learning experience. He’s also right, even if he’s rarely accurate when faced with her, about having Haein because you figure that if you were in his position, you wouldn’t ask for anything more.
If you were anything like Yoongi by having had the privilege of harboring the person you love and the life-long burden of having to yearn for her, you would be satisfied too.
It’s been a full week since the two of you talked and it’s the longest you ever went without any communication. There’s no texts coming from your end, but there had been plenty of it coming from Yoongi’s.
Yoongi, your best friend, knows that you didn’t end your thanksgiving party in the happiest note because he happened. He felt apologetic about it ever since because he didn’t mean to sound self-absorbed to the point of projecting his selfishness onto you; painting you as the villain would be the last thing he’ll ever do because he knew that between the two of you, you were the stronger one.
You’re the more rational, focused one who studied the same degree as he did, yet actually amounted to something infinitely more even if he’s the younger one who had more opportunities than you ever did.
You’re the more unyielding one between the two of you, because you can stomach ignoring him for a week while he’s about to lose his mind.
Yoongi could send a hundred more texts wherein he pretends to have mistakenly sent a discreet, low-lying sorry to you (because the two of you barely ever apologized to each other) instead of another person. He could react to a message of yours from two months ago just to try and see if you would comment on it.
He could even call you by Haein’s name just to purposely piss you off because he’d settle for anything if it meant breaking you out of your silent treatment, yet you don’t even move an inch whether he calls you on your phone or lingers in the coffee shop you frequent at in your workplace.
Yoongi can pull a hundred different reasons with most of them involving how he’s running errands with the children he looks after. He can say that Hwayoung knows your name (and he’s not lying about it either) and that she asked where you worked, and the both of them just happened to be in the area during their morning walk. He can say every excuse under the sun just to try and get you to talk to him, but you won’t budge.
Yoongi doesn’t like change but he likes the days wherein you rant to him about your day and ask how his went, just like every week before this one. He doesn’t like growth in the guise of everything he’s comfortable with being stripped away, but he likes the nights wherein he could call you and ask you to look after the children in the living room while he goes to the bathroom, when really, he’s just standing from a distance to look at you coo at them.
So when Yoongi got the call from your brother, asking him for a favor to look after your nephew if only he was free for the day (he wasn’t, but he made it work nonetheless), he immediately jumped at the chance of maybe, just maybe seeing you drop by at your family’s home.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says under his breath when he locks eyes with you in the nursery, your presence only being a surprise to him alone because he didn’t think you were staying with your parents the entire week when normally, you’d be a little high-strung staying with them after three consecutive days.
“Just been busy. Sorry,” you reply quietly, your apology only being an afterthought because you’re unsure who’s at fault.
“Me too,” Yoongi clears his throat, bouncing your sleeping nephew on his arms as he indiscreetly makes his way to you. “I’m sorry too, I mean.”
It’s weird for the both of you to apologize to each other.
It’s weird for you to see Yoongi in your childhood house and have no one question his presence, because the scene of him cradling your brother’s baby with a cloth strewn over his shoulder and your sister’s headband on his head to keep his hair away from his face, only looks right.
It’s weird for Yoongi to see you so torn up over him, and it’s even weirder that all the anger he had towards you for ignoring him just immediately dissipated.
Yoongi puts your nephew down on his crib with a precise gentleness to him, his hands cramping up not because he spent so long trying to get him to calm down, but because he doesn’t ever know what to do with them whenever you face him.
“You didn’t have to do this for my brother, y’know? You shouldn’t feel pressured to say yes just because he asked,” you clear your throat, filling the silence in with your voice that Yoongi has missed so badly.
“What are you talking about? I’m not on the clock right now,” Yoongi furrows his brows, the frown on his face evident. “I’m not here as a manny. I’m here as an uncle.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” he snorts, the snarky expression from him cutting through the tension between you. You could just throw your head back out of relief, knowing that Yoongi’s not that mad at you, but the both of you know you’re far from the clear.
You’re far from the clear when you don’t make a single move to come towards him across the room, even if it’s the only thing you wanted to do the past week.
You know you’re far from the clear and even further from moving on when it’s Yoongi who comes to you, his pace slow yet definitive, his fists unclenched for once as he practically leaps towards you in the end.
It takes one, two seconds for you to realize that although it’s Yoongi who made the first move to get close to you, it’s you who puts your hands on his cheeks, forehead rested against his with your eyes closed, tightly. Painfully.
Yoongi opens his eyes when you do, staying in your grasp even if he realizes that you almost kissed.
“You can read my mind, Yoongi, right?” you whisper, pulling apart briefly to look up at him, yet close nonetheless because you could still practically hear his heart beating out of his chest.
“Yeah,” he swallows the lump in his throat, the hand he has around your waist loosening for just a fraction of a second, yet you don’t need it— you don’t need him to unravel further to confirm what you’ve always known.
“So I don’t need to say it out loud,” you smile tightly, the shaky sigh that leaves you making Yoongi’s lips purse out of guilt. “So I don’t need to say it out loud that I love you,” you say in your mind, eyes already stinging even if Yoongi hasn’t let go of you yet.
“You don’t,” he affirms, his voice hoarse as his hand on your waist still doesn’t budge, the other cradling your wrist because he can’t decipher if it’s him wanting to keep your hand on his face, or if it’s him keeping you away. “You can read my mind too, right?”
You nod earnestly, the smile that he gives you even being tighter than yours.
“Right,” he clears his throat. “So I can’t— I-I don’t have to say it either,” he whispers. “I don’t need to say out loud that the feeling isn’t mutual,” you read in his mind, the silent admission effectively relieving you of the weight you’ve carried ever since you knew him.
Yoongi’s phone ringing is the only thing that snaps the both of you from your daze, your immediate composure being shaky despite having prepared for this for so long because you knew it anyway.
You know that no matter how much Yoongi looks like he belongs to you, your life, and everything in between, you still won’t stand a chance against the person who’d make him drop everything new for the promise of coming home to everything he’s familiar with.
“It’s uhm— it’s Haein,” he explains, the nervous grin he has on face being infectious despite your very own appearing for a much different reason. “She wants to talk about things.”
“You don’t have to let me know,” you shake your head, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Go, Yoongi.”
.
.
.
You’re not ignoring Yoongi anymore.
Apropos of nothing, Yoongi and Haein are talking again.
They’re not together, yet, but you know how it always ends between them anyway, so you steel yourself for the worst despite it being Yoongi’s best.
( ♡ )
You badly want to change.
You badly want to change and although it’s not Yoongi’s fault, the way he hovers around you makes you feel otherwise.
You already made well on your promise of not shutting him out whenever things get tough for you, but even then, no part of the way you’ve been acting recently ever appeases Yoongi.
He’s accustomed to you growing like you always have been, yet he didn’t even think that you changing bit by bit could ever impact him this greatly, Sure, Yoongi’s happy that you’re no longer ignoring him intentionally, but his stomach still turns every time you do reply to him at an ungodly hour and he’s reminded of your little joke (he hopes it is) that you’re more active at that time of night because of your extracurriculars.
Yoongi’s happy that you still turn to him, but a large part of him, if not the entirety, grows bitter when he sees you looking happier nowadays and he can’t tell if it’s because of something you’ve already told him or if it’s because of something totally unrelated and how he could never know, because the one thing that he made you promise is for you to keep being his friend.
You’re still Yoongi’s friend before, during, and after your confession, and he doesn’t know if that placates him.
Yoongi doesn’t want to amount to anything less than a friend to you but he doesn’t want to be your family either. He wants to be whatever it is in your life that knows why you’re smiling so much and why you barely rant to him.
He wants to be whatever, whoever, it is your life in order to know that you’re seeing Taehyung right from your mouth and not from your brother’s like he’s a jaded suitor that’s been anticipating bad news.
Yoongi wants to matter enough, as if he already doesn’t, to know about you having a boyfriend.
“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?” he spits, the way he barrels into your apartment with his own keycard being unceremonious.
Yoongi knows today’s your rest day and he knows that by this time, you’d be on a call with him to ask about his day and entertain Hwayoung who keeps butting into your conversation. By this time, it would’ve still been you and him, whether or not Haein and Taehyung were in the picture.
“You’re hooking up with the guy that talked shit about me, and you didn’t bother telling me?”
“Taehyung didn’t talk shit about you,” you scoff, closing the door after him as you follow him into your living room.
Yoongi’s eyes widen comically, heart clenching when he realizes that you have no comeback for anything else he’s said, jaw clenching as he points a finger at you.
“He fucking looked down on me-…”
“He was just shocked!”
“Are you seriously defending him instead of being on my side?!” he exclaims, the sarcastic chuckle that leaves his lips rubbing you wrong because for any other person and any other instance, you’d laugh with him too.
“Do you not expect me to?” you snarl. “You’re dragging my boyfriend’s name to an argument that you started, and you don’t expect me to defend him?”
“You’re being a hypocrite,” he grits, nostrils flaring in sheer anger.
“And if I am, then what about it?!” you throw your hands into the air, poking your finger at his chest yet he refuses to get out of your face. “Have you not ever been a hypocrite when it comes to defending the person you love?”
It’s not your glare that gets him to back off.
It’s not your hostile, defensive nature towards Yoongi, in defense of Taehyung, that makes him deadly silent.
It’s you, holding up a mirror for the same blind defensiveness that he’d always carry whenever your words just barely graze Haein’s honor.
You’re guilty of judging Yoongi, but not of dissuading him from pursuing Haein like he’s always done — Yoongi, however, can’t say the same for himself.
“I hope Taehyung’s worth it,” he spits. “I hope he’s worth treating me like this, because not once have I ever made you less of a priority even when Haein was still in the picture.”
The use of was makes you pause, the past tense making you blink owlishly and finally take a step back from Yoongi as if it’s just your proximity to him that was the raging problem.
“Haein was my girlfriend but I never, never turned my back on you. I never made things awkward for us. I never stopped showing up for you, even if it costed me with her. I never made you feel the way you’re making me feel now,” Yoongi heaves, jaw clenching from how hard he’s ignoring the lump in his throat.
You chuckle sarcastically, the briefest glimpse you have of yourself in Yoongi’s words making you feel utterly pathetic. “Yeah? And how am I making you feel now?”
“Like we haven’t known each other our whole lives.”
( ♡ )
It’s been months since you and Yoongi properly talked to each other.
Life got in the way between the two of you and as much as Yoongi didn’t want to push, you didn’t want to grow out of the comfort that you already had with Taehyung either.
There were still texts and calls, but in between Yoongi getting whisked away for his employers’ vacation for a change and you being content with your job and your boyfriend as your comfort, neither of you made any drastic moves after your fight.
The only apology that Yoongi could get out of you after storming off from your apartment was you asking if he had already eaten dinner two nights after your fight, while the only apology that your close friend could ever give to you was that he hadn’t (even if he actually did), just to get your conversation rolling.
You feel guilty reserving parts of you from Yoongi, namely Taehyung and how he fits into your life, even if it’s always been established that there’s no use hiding. You know a terrible lot of information about how Yoongi and Haein are in bed against your will, and Yoongi has an awful amount of knowledge about your preference for condoms and how you like your men.
There’s guilt in your chest and you don’t think it would ever disappear for as long as Yoongi’s still in your life. Being defensive about anyone outside of your family and Yoongi, specifically because neither are synonymous no matter how much Yoongi keeps recurring from your family’s mouths, is something entirely brand new.
Taehyung is new to your system, just as Yoongi was all those years ago, and it scares him more than it scares you.
The concept of lagging behind someone who had just been a casual topic of interest (more specifically because he had seemingly offended you and him) then became your boyfriend overnight feels like a giant slap on the face because Yoongi, not once, has ever entertained the possibility that you’d be as lovesick as him.
He didn’t think that you were also capable of being defensive about a loved one who isn’t him, just like he is over Haein.
He didn’t think about how angry and offended he’d feel seeing you become so protective of someone who doesn’t know you like he does, because in Yoongi’s defense, Taehyung doesn’t know shit about you.
Taehyung does not and will never know you like he does, because he never trailed after you and idolized you in everything that you do, so much so that he only pursued his degree because you did before him.
Unlike Yoongi, Taehyung never had to be taught by you how to drive and what it means to have his family’s manual transmission car stall right after the stoplight turned green, because it meant you having to comfort Yoongi who was in tears after being honked at, and you lying straight through your teeth to his parents by saying that he was excellent and should definitely be trusted with driving the car alone with Haein to take her on dates.
Unlike the person you know the most, Taehyung never had to have the conversation with your dad about looking after you in college despite being younger, yet puffing his chest out nonetheless to agree because he made it his personal mission.
Taehyung will never be Yoongi and the latter takes pride in it, except now, he feels that Taehyung doesn’t ever want to be in his position—
Why would Taehyung vie for his position when it’s clear that he’s at an advantage?
Yoongi ignores his feelings and grievances the best that he can, yet unlike the old him who could endure so much shit because it meant having you to lean on, he can’t help but explode now that it’s you whom he can’t see eye to eye with.
“Taehyung and I were thinking of eloping,” you say out of the blue, your admission feeling appropriate (in your eyes, atleast) because you and Yoongi have so much to catch up on after being apart and he strayed the topic towards your sister who’s expecting her first child.
You thought it was your turn to say something equally as life-changing, because with the way Yoongi hasn’t talked about Haein once and you assuming that it’s because they were back together and he was just shy to talk about it, you bit the bullet first.
You thought wrong, clearly, because the happiness completely drains away from Yoongi the moment you finished your sentence.
“What?” he asks. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, don’t be stupid,” he repeats, eyes narrowing at you in anger. “You’ve only been in a relationship with him for months-…”
“I’ve known him for years-…”
“And that still doesn’t justify you marrying him just because you feel like it,” he spits, your revelation far from making him happy like you thought it would. “Stop being stupid, Y/N. You’re not marrying Taehyung just because you’re in another one of your impulsive moods.”
Your mouth falls open at that, scoffing in disbelief because Yoongi isn’t letting up in the slightest with the way there’s no hint of his outburst just being a sick joke.
“I’m not being impulsive. I really do want to marry him!”
“Oh yeah? How’s married life going to work out for you when-…”
“I only told you because I wanted to let you know. I wasn’t asking you to weigh in, Yoongi,” you snap, crossing your arms in defense while Yoongi only steps towards you.
The thought of eloping with Taehyung crossed your mind once after a weird dream, and you thought nothing about it at first so you texted him and went right back to sleep. What you didn’t expect was that he didn’t hate the idea at all (in fact, he was even happy that you thought about it), and Taehyung’s confirmation for something unlike you, for something that resembled to settling and being comfortable, changed you completely.
“You don’t expect me to interfere when you tell me you’re going to make the biggest mistake of your life?” Yoongi huffs, his eyes widening over your seeming indifference.
“Who the fuck are you to tell me that getting married to Taehyung would be the biggest mistake I’ll ever make?”
“I’m your closest friend! I know you better than you know yourself and-…”
“You don’t,” you retort. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all or even respect me when you think the worst of Taehyung when you barely even know him!”
“I could know Taehyung for a decade and still think the fucking worst of him!” Yoongi raises his voice, laughing humorlessly as he runs his hand through his hair. “I could know Taehyung or any other guy for a lifetime and still think that they won’t ever be good enough for you!”
The laugh that escapes you is offensive.
It’s as offensive as Yoongi making your graduation about him by crying to your sheets because Haein broke up with him, and it’s as offensive as you scoffing to his face when he said that having his job serves as his practice for a future with her.
“What, because you’re in love with me?” you spit, trying to trigger something in him just so he could leave you be, for good, because everything that’s he’s saying to now– with the defensiveness you’ve only heard from yourself whenever he rationalized trying to get back with his first love — takes you right back to your previous pining.
Yoongi’s only silent, trusting that you could read his mind, and you’ve never hated knowing him as much as you do than now.
“You’re telling me that you’re in love with me, right when I decided I was sick of loving you my whole life?” you whisper, the tears stinging from the corner of your eyes making your heart clench. You’ve been called too stubborn. Too calculating and too heartless, even by your own family, and for you to unfold in front of Yoongi this easily makes you wail. “Are you shitting me, Yoongi? Are you— are you out of your goddamn mind to tell me this?”
Yoongi looks down in shame, the truth of him being over his first love not relieving the weight on his shoulders like he foolishly expected, because everything he falls short when he sees you crying.
“I didn’t want to get back to Haein with something weighing so heavily on my chest,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to get back with her because you just ignoring me for a fucking week hurt more than any breakup I’ve had with her.”
Yoongi, vividly, can remember how distraught he was. He can remember how he can’t recall a time wherein he didn’t have you to depend on, as if he didn’t ever outgrow the phase of him idolizing you and following you wherever you went.
As if he’s still the seventeen year old him asking to borrow your slippers for Haein, while deep down seeking your approval for her because he didn’t want to do anything without you beaming at him.
“I-I felt… I felt like I was losing my mind, Y/N.”
“Can you read my mind right now?” you ask, shakily exhaling as you look down on the floor.
“That’s a really stupid thing to bring up right now,” Yoongi breathlessly chuckles, letting his hair brush past his eyes because he’s a little terrified of looking how distraught, how disappointed, you are. “But no.”
“Do you not want to say it out loud?” he asks, making you laugh silently as you gathered the strength to sit next to him, yet not as close as you always did. “Whatever it is, it’s not like I’m going to give up now,” he mumbles, looking down on your hand that’s rested on the cushion, your pinky finger just centimeters away from his, yet he can’t move to hold you like he wants to.
You wanted Yoongi and he wants you, and there’s only so much points where you could intersect until you say what’s been lingering in your mind, just like every other apology the both of you have passed up.
“We need some time apart, Yoongi. We need space,” you mumble. “We need to figure it out on our own before we figure it out together because-…”
Yoongi finishes your thought for you, head tilted down and hand outstretched with the hope that comes with being a little too late for someone who’s waited a little too long.
“Because we’ve known each other our whole lives.”
Yoongi refuses to break even if he comprehends exactly what you’re saying, because there’s no point in it when he knows he’ll never be angry at you. You can defend him and you can hurt him all at once, yet he’ll never curse you, simply because there’s no point picking at wounds he’ll keep on licking anyway.
“Do we just-…” he shrugs lightly, pinky finger painfully close to yours until he makes the heavy move of lifting it, just enough to to cover yours. “Do we find our way back to each other? Is that it?”
“That’s the plan, hopefully,” you smile, sucking in a breath you never thought would be this heavy. “I’ll find you if you find me.”
“I’ll find you when you find me,” Yoongi corrects. “We’ll find our way back to each other.”
You resent comfort and Yoongi abhors change, but there’s only so much the both of you could take until you realize that the only thing constant in your lives is each other, no matter how many seasons pass you by.
For Yoongi, it’s you.
Despite everything, it’s still you.
( ♡ )
The year that you spend with Yoongi flitting every once in awhile like he’s only a friend, and not the man you’ve first loved, is a year you didn’t think you’d ever spend.
Despite you and Taehyung separating amicably, he still took with him the love that you sincerely invested. He wasn’t the first boyfriend you’ve ever had, and although you were no stranger to heartbreak, he still imprinted a large chunk of him onto you.
At one point in your life, you did want to marry him; and at several points in your life after him that you don’t even think of denying, you really thought it would be him if not for the life that you led.
You don’t resent Yoongi for loving you a little too late because there’s no point in it, as much as Taehyung doesn’t even hate you in the slightest for letting him let you go in pursuit of the change that the both of you badly needed.
Yoongi could never bring himself to hate you either, even if being apart from you gnawed at him from the inside. Making something out of himself had been his biggest plan outside of pursuing you from a distance, because as soon he tendered in his resignation letter to his employers and cried right in front of the children he looked after, Yoongi won’t ever lie and say that he wasn’t scared.
Yoongi resents change even if you’re someone who yearns for it, and even with the terror that wracks his bones of starting new without you being there for him as his safety net, Yoongi does it scared anyway.
He does it scared with one eye closed as he puts the degree he’s only learned to love because of you to work, developing an app for families to look for certified, trustworthy nannies.
He does it scared anyway with his heart barely into himself and fully into you when he shows up a full night early before your family’s thanksgiving party, donning his reserved suit as he clutches a new pair of house slippers, which again, like always and just like he is, is only for you.
For you, it’s Yoongi.
Despite everything, it’s still Yoongi.
#first fic of 2025 :D YIPPEEEEE#yoongi imagine#yoongi oneshot#yoongi oneshots#yoongi angst#yoongi angst imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi au#yoongi scenario#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x you#bts yoongi imagine#yoongi scenarios#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi oneshot
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YOONGI
❖ mic drop — by @ve1vetyoongi
when underground rapper min yoongi uncovers the dirty secret behind his biggest rival, your brother and hip hop champion kim namjoon’s success, he is determined to take home this year’s mic drop contest trophy no matter who he hurts along the way. you’re behind the camera, content with capturing namjoon’s picture perfect persona from the sidelines but when his hard-faced enemy Gloss, makes you realise you could be more than just the point and shoot, you start to feel your loyalties shifting. | 29k [s, a, f]
❖ because of me — by @taexual
Yoongi never thought dreams held any value, so, after waking up from a nightmare, he was simply annoyed he didn’t get a good night’s sleep. He had no idea his nightmare would come true. | 3.7k [a]
❖ back-burner — by @yoonpobs
sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete? | series [a, s, f]
❖ punch drunk — by @joonbird
Min Yoongi talks with his fists, and the only language he knows is one of anger and pain. He’s damaged, untouchable, a boxing underdog with something to prove. You are the sister of Yoongi’s rival - Jeon Jungkook, the number one elite boxer in your prefecture - and as Yoongi soon discovers, you are also his one and only weakness. | 33k [a, s]
❖ untitled — by @here2bbtstrash
yoongi fingering you til you squirt. | 4.8k [s]
❖ we don’t talk together — by @yoonpobs
it's hard to say it's over. | 2.8k [a]
❖ adrift — by @dumpywrites
He only comes to sleep with you and you accept because your heart allows you to. | ? [a, f, a]
❖ till the end of the line — by @kimvvantae
the world has ended and everything you have ever loved died with it. now, you have nothing but a gunshot, an old van, and most importantly - him. | 11k [a]
❖ the early shift — by @hobidreams
21.4k | [a, f, s]
❖ love language — by @gukslut
Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have. | 5.3k [a, f, s]
❖ what do you look like when your lie? — @ugh-yoongi
“i grew a flower that can’t be bloomed in a dream that can’t come true.” | 7.7k [a]
❖ fail-safe — @jiminrings
growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration. | series [a, f]
❖ interlude — by @yoongiofmine
All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with. | series [a, s, f]
❖ slide — by @back2bluesidex
You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline. | series [a, s]
#bts#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts smut#bts x reader#bts x fem!reader#bts scenarios#bts fic#bts series#bts army#bts suga#bts yoongi#yoongi#yoongi smut#yoongi scenarios#yoongi series#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi x oc#yoongi x y/n#yoongi angst#yoongi au#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fic#bangtan#bts ffs#bts fanfction#bts fluff#bts ff
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jeon jungkook fics that own my mind, body, heart, and soul
in other words, this is a collection of my favorite jk fics on tumblr! if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, pls remember to support the authors by interacting with their post. part 2 | other bts members
➺ bitchin - by @kinktae
summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.
➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk
summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.
➺ hotter than hell - by @chateautae
summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
➺ jump then fall (into you) - by @writtenwhalien
summary: bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?
➺ too late to dream - by @kookslastbutton
summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.
➺ the forgotten spaces- by @oddinary4bts
summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?
➺ when the end comes - by @oddinary4bts
summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? **sequel to the forgotten spaces
➺ falling - by @starshapedkookie
summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.
➺ love alive - by @jamaisjoons
summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.
➺ changes in between - by @taegularities
summary: Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.
➺ falling skies - by @fortunexkookie
summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.
Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.
➺ sugarplum elegy - by @bymoonchild
summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.
➺ an abundance of mondays - by @diortae
summary: "why the fuck would it be easy? you’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. of course it’s complicated.” he pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.
➺ five dates - by @kpopfanfictrash
summary: “Ten dates,” he nods, smile tugging at his lips. “Ten dates, to decide if you want this – want me – or want me to go. Ten dates to get to know me. Ten dates,” he says, oddly soft, “to fall in love with me.” Which then becomes five.
➺ here comes the bride, all dressed in pride - by @hansolmates
summary: You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend
➺ if i told you - by @gukyi
summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.
#bts fic rec#fic recs#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x oc#bts angst#bts smut#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#taehyung angst#taehyung smut#jimin angst#jimin smut#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#bts fan fiction#fic rec list#namjoon angst#namjoon smut#hoseok angst#hoseok smut#seokjin angst#seokjin smut#bts masterlist#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#seokjin x reader#hoseok x reader#namjoon x reader
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Dragonheart; Masterlist
Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader
Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut
Summary: The Gong-li Empire has been on the peak of its power for a little over a millenium, and there was a very simple reason for that - dragonkind. When the first emperor of the Li Dynasty struck a deal with a witch that would allow him to bind dragons to the crown and force them into obedience, it was the beginning of its reign of terror and the end of freedom for creatures as old as nature itself.
Now, a woman hoping to change everything enters the ranks of the elite dragon rider unit among the imperial army and meets seven men that not only change her life, but help her change the fate of the whole world.
Warnings and themes: unhealthy family dynamics, fighting against corruption and inequality, revolution, discussions and themes of slavery/sex slavery and forced bondings, violence, war, near death experiences, challenging relationship dynamics, angst, discussions of mortality and death, mating cycles (yes, i'm a slut, thank u), knotting (bc i said so), enough puns and jokes about riding to make you sick of me - each chapter will have it's individual warnings
Current word count: 35.9k
A/N: i've been really craving some good fantasy lately and i'm so in love with dragons, so of course i had to write something for our boys! for this setting, kind of imagine a fusion of asian and western fantasy, the same with clothing - it's going to be a mix of both together. also i'm doing whatever i want with the boys' hairstyles so it's different eras all mashed together, just based on what i liked the most
○ Chapter 1: On the wind of morning
⇝ The first encounter between a girl and a dragon. ⇜
○ Chapter 2: The moon hangs heavy
⇝ When meeting the thunder is bittersweet and family is complicated. ⇜
○ Chapter 3: Prove your heart
⇝ How far does a girl have to go to gain a dragon's trust? ⇜
Character studies
Notes to chapters:
Story lore: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |
Dictionary: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |
Thank you for reading <3
Taglist (open): @stxrrielle @hobicakess @comicnerd557 @11thenightwemet11 @socksfirst1
@dachshunddame @channiespup @danielle143 @borahaetelevision @kingofbodyrolls
@jungshaking @futuristicenemychaos @ah2002 @tadomikiku @ambsv
@silscintilla @anaspectoflife @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @uniquecutie-puffs @starlight-1010
@authorpj @anjoellamorte @ami7-12bts @foreverddaeng @silscintilla
@canarystwin @ldysmfrst @nikkiordonez12 @mysteriousgeminizone @i-like-puppy-mg
@ttttt1re @xthefuckerysquaredx @crispynutella @asillyduck15 @icouldntcareless22
#dragonheart series#bts#bts OT7#bts x reader#OT7 x reader#bts poly au#bts fic#bts fluff#bts smut#bts angst#seokjin fic#yoongi fic#hoseok fic#namjoon fic#jimin fic#taehyung fic#jungkook fic#seokjin smut#yoongi smut#hoseok smut#namjoon smut#jimin smut#taehyung smut#jungkook smut#bts dragon au
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Slide - The Series [Masterlist]
Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader
Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?.
Type: Drabble Series
Summary:
"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"
Alternatively,
You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.
Warnings: extreme angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of depression, so much pining, unrequited love au, NSFW!!
Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics
Minors do not interact!!
Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)
A/N: here is the masterlist. the story is gonna to back to the past and then come back to the present. hence, I have classified it. Hope it makes things easy to understand. also, this is gonna be very fragmented. I will not go into detailing much - as in the details of their jobs, family and stuff like that. this story will mainly revolve around Yoongi and reader's feelings towards each other and their bad decisions. That's all. AND please tell me if I have missed anyone's name in the taglist despite being requested. thanks <3
Taglist requests are closed for now
One time for the present ~
1. Slide - The Beginning
You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.
2. Slide - The Ultimate Decision
Worst decisions are always driven by anger and alcohol; but sometimes those are also driven by Love.
3. Slide - The Other Side
No matter how much Yoongi had been trying to compile his focus and pour it all on Gyuri, his mind kept reeling back to you.
4. Slide - The Consequence
You are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time.
5. Slide - The Dream
You have been so selfish and as a result - you get punished.
6. Slide - The Regret
For the first time in his 31 years of life - Min Yoongi is regretting. And the reason behind his regret circles around you.
7. Slide - The Trial
You have some questions and Yoongi has no answer.
8. Slide - The Vacation
Yoongi finally finds an answer to all of his questions.
9. Slide - The Realization
Yoongi dreams of you... dreams of a family with you.
10. Slide - The Reconciliation
“There was never a time when I wasn’t yours.”
11. Slide - The Finale
Tonight when he kisses you, it’s not a goodbye, rather it’s a promise of forever.
Two times for the past ~
1. Slide - The Prequel
You would never think twice before picking Yoongi up from streets even if it means losing your own sanity in return.
2. Slide - That Night
You would give yourself up willingly again and again if it means Yoongi will stay close to you. for whatever purpose.
Special Chapters ~
1. Slide - The Christmas Gift [Meant for Patreon only]
The third Christmas with Yoongi turns out to be something unexpected.
Permanent Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @purpleanchorcrown @armystay89
Requested Tags:
@ktownshizzle @ilys00ga @marihoneywk @yoongisoftface @sugaslittlekookies @joonwater @geminiml95 @ramicherie @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @avawants2havefun @artemisdoe @jimintaemin @cuntessaiii
#bts angst#yoongi angst#suga angst#bts smut#yoongi smut#suga smut#bts x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts x you#yoongi x you#suga x you#bts fanfiction#yoongi fanfic#yoongi scenarios#yoongi imagine#bts imagines#bts yoongi#bts suga#bts
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The Cycle - masterpost - trilogy - work in progress
pairings : jungkook x fem! reader
genre : trilogy, fwbau, angst angst, smut, nsfw, fluff if you look closely
discription : based on songs, lmao based on my soon ex 😭😭
"Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep, Are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine all the damn time"
genre : smut, angst, slice of life, angst, fwbau
read here
The one where you're giving him a taste of his own medicine. "you loved him too early, he loved you too late"
genre : angst, smut,
read here
The one where you're back in the cycle. just in a different way.
Genre : smut, angst, slight fluff.
read here
taglists?
#rispwr#bts#jungkook ff#bts x reader#jungkook#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook fanfic#yoongi smut#smut#jungkook angst#bts angst#bts x you#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#jeon jungkook x reader#rispwr works
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minted (explicit) | myg
title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here
—
—
Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked.
Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind.
And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst.
Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself.
But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat.
All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.
But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.
And today is no different.
You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks.
If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.
When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.
Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits.
It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.
Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans.
Another day. Another exchange.
In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.
After a while, you do try talking to him.
Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is.
One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house.
“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away.
When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.
Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.
“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.”
He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,
“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.”
When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly.
“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off.
Well.
Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.
Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart.
From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers.
You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together.
Taboo, even.
But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just…
“You always stare this long?”
Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”
To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”
“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span.
Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag.
Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day.
But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”
“Didn’t choose these.”
Ah. Way to assume things.
Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.
But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall.
“What.”
“I worry sometimes.”
His gaze lifts. “About me?”
“Yeah.”
You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to?
Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.
Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.”
Someone like him? What does that mean?
Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.
You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.”
Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.”
“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday.
These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest.
It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.
“Here they come!”
“Bunch of idiots this time.”
“What do you mean this time?”
Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.
After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact.
And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets.
Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.
Here it goes again.
As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.
No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—
Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.
Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”
“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”
“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”
Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.
More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter.
Then it’s done.
After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street.
“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans.
Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?”
Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too.
A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.
“You should find another place to sell, dear.”
In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?”
“Don’t underestimate your elders now.”
“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”
“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.
If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead.
At least they seem to be more fair.
After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought.
Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point.
Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.
Still so odd…
But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return.
Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.
By none other than your favorite set of hands.
What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand.
Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—”
“Course I don’t.”
That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again?
Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”
With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again.
What the hell is up with today?
Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now?
Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too.
Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.
Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first.
Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.
Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously.
You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached.
It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.”
You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.
Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time?
Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street.
It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.
When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.
Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.
Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.
Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.
God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.
“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”
“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.”
Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.”
Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one.
Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.”
He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence.
But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home?
Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.”
He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences.
“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.”
Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over?
His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.”
Ah.
This version of him is not good for you at all.
When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!”
Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk.
What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting.
And he looks impatient as hell.
Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived.
Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?”
Silence has never been so booming.
In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second.
Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question?
Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks.
After a condescending puff, he only smirks.
Then he takes one step. And another. And another.
The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it.
Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.”
Oh.
Why did… you kinda like that?
Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.”
This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence,
“Always took you for a good girl.”
Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.
Yoongi.
For a hardened soul, his name is so…
Tender.
For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once.
But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi.
As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.
The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.
“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right.
Left seems promising.
You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for.
It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared.
Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.
Find a meal.
Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.
A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.
But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby.
What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.
After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance.
Always facing the entrance.
Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out.
The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form.
With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down.
Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed.
But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months.
Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth.
At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the…
Ambiance.
Wait.
Dragons. A lot of them.
You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal.
But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass.
…Yoongi?
His jacket. The colors.
He’s in Dragon?
Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.
As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge.
Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere.
So what the hell is Dragon doing here?
From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers.
Hold on, what—
“What are you—”
A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past.
All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke.
And just like that, your reunion is over.
Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—
A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling.
Shit.
Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company.
Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often?
Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.
Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time.
Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here?
With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side.
Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase.
Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.
But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win.
Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful.
Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.
Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.
An inhale.
Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.
This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.
Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.
Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.
And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on?
Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—
Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.
But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.
Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?
You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.
He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight.
“Where’d they go?”
“Upstairs!”
Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now.
With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.
Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.
The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you.
What do you do? What even can you do?
Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance.
Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—
Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!”
It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.
Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—
Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.
“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.
Luckiest timing of your life.
“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!”
Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him.
Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do…
This one thing…
…
Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you.
And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck.
Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,
“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.”
“Excuse me?”
Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply,
“You shouldn’t be up here.”
What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?”
Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.
But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet.
“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.
But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward.
Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.
…Are you?
More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant.
God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now.
But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.”
Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”
“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.”
“I—I didn’t mean to—”
Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages.
You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill.
“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.”
Live with it. How poetic.
You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor.
“Are you coming or not?”
You’re gonna puke your guts out.
With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps.
Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling.
When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe.
The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs.
No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down?
Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same.
Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”
His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”
“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.”
Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
“Where’d he go?”
“It’s gone!”
Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.
As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now.
Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?”
He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit.
You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought.
This is going too well.
But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now.
Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.
But suddenly.
Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded.
And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,
“Looks like you’re in it now.”
Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime.
Yoongi’s right.
You’re in it now.
And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run.
You’re really doing this.
Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go.
At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.
Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”
Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front.
“Get back here!”
“You fuckers!”
Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?
When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns.
He’s grinning.
You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine.
And he’s… enjoying this?
You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—
You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees.
Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.
Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.
Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit.
Yoongi? He waited for you?
“Go!”
Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between.
An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.
Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck!
Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes.
Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face.
Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!
“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life.
Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no.
Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is—
Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd.
“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”
“You good?”
Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”
“Then keep up.”
Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.
If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.
Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside.
Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in.
And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear,
“Kiss me.”
“I said get out!”
“What?”
“Come here.”
You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—
“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.”
Oh.
You were just… Oh.
Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either.
“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”
You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”
What is he getting at you need to leave fast—
“Agust.”
…Huh?
Agust?
This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun.
When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight.
Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?
When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes.
And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever.
“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”
To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey.
“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”
Oh, fuck that.
Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.
He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck!
“You bastard—”
“You’ll live. Drive.”
“Fucking—fuck!”
The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.
He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day.
So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.
Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?
The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts.
Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory.
Did you both really make it this far?
Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do.
Rest. Sleep. Home.
With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three.
Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not.
“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.”
When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.”
“Just listen to me.”
“Why?”
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it,
“Good girl.”
And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right?
Right?
“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop.
That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—
Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it.
Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for?
Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up.
But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”
“Yeah—”
“Then get up. Get up.”
Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again.
What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all.
You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive.
Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district.
Han Station is a floating railway?
Holy shit, where are you?
Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head.
Oh.
The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—
Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward.
Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head.
You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?
“Come on!”
Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!
The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.
Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”
“No!”
“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”
Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore.
“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?
You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name!
“Agust!”
Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle.
He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”
After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt.
He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.
Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.
Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.
Just like that.
You made it out.
What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now.
Finally, finally, finally able to breathe.
But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.
As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection.
Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way.
You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,
“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”
But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry.
When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”
“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”
“Quiet.”
Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by.
Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time.
Your tangerines…
When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away.
No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal.
The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.
Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.
The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake.
“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.
Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.
Where are you now? Where are you getting off?
You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers.
But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.
You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.
“We’ll stay here.”
We? Stay?
“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.”
At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?”
“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.”
Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,
“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.”
Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.
Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.”
Mm.
After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow.
Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?
While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder.
This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have?
Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.
If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now.
Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust.
Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,
“Just wanted to.”
Your heart trips into the next beat.
On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.
And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.
Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train.
A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—”
“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.”
“Understood.”
Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling.
How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with?
…Who exactly did you save?
Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into.
Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman.
Right before sliding doors shut the world out.
—
—
⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist
a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ 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: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist
#NEW YOONGI LETS GOOO#bts fic#bts imagines#bts reactions#yoongi fic#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#yoongi smut#bts smut#bts fanfic#*latest#ryenwrites#minted#*ryenfictalk#tw: violence#tw: blood#tw: murder
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‘𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞…’ 𝐦𝐲𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬; 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦
✞ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alternative!yoongi x reader ✞ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k ✞ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: yoongi has tongue pierings, bigdick!yoongi, dirty talk, raw sex, riding, nipple play, nipple biting, minor hair tugging, size kink, using a polaroid during sex, mention of dacryphilia to open
disclaimer: this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. yoongi is used solely as a face and a name for the story. this is not a representation of real-life scenarios.
series masterlist | main masterlist
“Don’t hide your pretty noises. I want you to cry for me.” Yoongi emphasises his requests as he speeds up his pace. His lips bathing your shoulder in kisses as he makes his way up to the sensitive part of your neck, causing you to shiver under his touch.
His name leaves your lips in a sinful prayer for the man in between your thighs. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, all you’re able to do is feel him filling you to the brim with all of him as tears wet your eyes, obscuring your vision.
“You’re fucking perfect,” you hear Yoongi muttering into your chest as you move yourself up and down, impaling yourself on his cock, “treating me well, ni—ah, fuck baby!”
Yoongi’s head is thrown back against the plush grey headrest of the couch, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth as he grunts in pleasure. One of his hands rest on your hips, the warmth of his palm and the coldness of his rings decorating his lithe fingers causes shivers to run over your body.
He is incredible. Insatiable even. Yoongi knows your body better than you know it yourself. He knows just how to fuck you right, every single time.
With your body shaking and eyes screwed shut tight in arousal, you miss Yoongi reaching out beside him. A click, accompanied by a quick bright flash takes you by surprise, causing your eyes to flutter open.
Halting your movements, you peer down at Yoongi who is staring straight into your eyes — blackened, blown out and filled with lust. You clench your pussy around his cock and smile at the polaroid in his hands.
“Want to remember this moment.”
“Well let me help you,” you tell him as you grab at his hand and place it on your tits, guiding him to palm you. Yoongi is more than happy to indulge you and plays with your nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger, tugging at the bud, watching it harden under his touch. You lace your fingers with his and then watch as he snaps a new image of him groping you.
One of your hands comes to rest on the back of his head, fingers gripping into his long strands of raven hair and giving them a soft tug in that way he loves. You lean down and kiss Yoongi with a surge of urgency. It’s wet and messy as your tongues tangle and lips smack against each other. His dual tongue bars give the kiss an added edge as he usages it to his advantage to lick against your lower lip before pulling at the skin in between his teeth. From below, you feel Yoongi lift his hips causing the tip of his cock to press deeper inside of you. A strangled moan slips past your kiss bitten lips at the welcomed pleasure.
Yoongi is thick and heavy inside of you, stretching you loose in ways no man ever has done before. Sex with Yoongi is always exciting and with added kinks to explore with each other, he always leaves you wanting more every time.
“How’s my angel doing?” He whispers as he plays about with the settings on the camera before pointing the lens back in your direction.
“G-good, want to keep going—fuck!” You curse at the end as he moves his hips again and snaps another image of you as your face contorts in unadulterated pleasure.
“G’on, move for me princess, show me how cock drunk you get for me, yeah.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You slid your hands across his chest, tracing the lines of the dragon tattoo that spans across his well built upper body. Through lustful eyes, you watch as Yoongi bites his lip at your touch and you keen, knowing that you’re the one to bring Min Yoongi down to this state with you.
Lifting your hips, you glide your cunt from his base to the tip, managing to feel every vein that wraps around his pretty length.
“Fuck, wait stay there. Let me get a picture of this, holy shit…” Yoongi proclaims and takes the third picture on the polaroid. “Don’t move. Keep yourself hugging my tip, fuck you gotta see how wet you got my cock princess.”
You do as you’re told and you keep your body positioned above him, cockhead nuzzled snuggly in your small hole as you await the polaroid to print the film.
Minutes pass and it doesn’t take long for your legs to start trembling from your muscles being stagnant in this position for a little longer than you’re used to.
“Yoongi, I wanna fuck!” Your protest comes out whiny as you fight the urge to drop yourself down to begin fucking him again.
The sound of the polaroid printing is heard between the both of you and you watch as Yoongi reaches for the film, shaking it in the air for a few seconds before looking at it.
He groans, and you feel arousal build up and leak onto Yoongi’s cock. The sounds that Yoongi creates, every moan, every rumble of his chest pushes you to keep still.
Next thing, Yoongi is twisting the picture around for you to see with your own eyes and what a sight it was. His length looks swollen with use, hard and stunningly decorated in those pretty veins you enjoy giving attention when he allows you. His length glistens under the flash of the camera from the juices he has spilled from your pussy and now it’s your turn to moan.
“Can you see too? The way I barely fit inside you…” he trails off. “Look at you struggling to take my fat cock in your tight cunt, I’ve never seen anything so fucking stunning. This is art.”
Warmth spreads around your body at his words as you look at the image as he speaks to you with so much filth. You flutter around him, utterly brain dead from Yoongi’s cock.
You’re not given enough time to think before Yoongi rocks his hips up, stroking your walls beautifully as he pulls you down to bury himself back in the hilt of his home which is your pussy. Tears gather in your eyes, giving them a sparkle that Yoongi loves to coax from you as he throws the camera back to the side in order for him to guide you up and down his throbbing dick.
The burn in your thighs is present and makes itself apparent as you continue to work your muscles into overdrive as you ride Yoongi like your life depended on it. Yoongi wraps both his hands around your back, palms resting against your clammy skin as he whispers filthy praises and prays of you into your skin, absolutely lost in the lust that is you and your tiny cunt.
You scratch at his chest, digging your nails through the dragon tattoo, breaking the skin and knowing that there will be a trail of red desire marked into his skin for the evening.
“You’re so big!” You hiccup, feeling Yoongi increase the speed of his hips into you, his ego swelling at your words.
“Ah, your pussy is leaking all over me, making such a mess of me angel.” Yoongi punctuates his words with a firm buck into your cunt, Yoongi highlights the loud squelching sounds of your ministrations.
One of his hands finds your wrist and brings it up to his mouth where he places kiss after kiss on each knuckle. He guides your hand further down until it finds the column of his throat and you rest there.
“G’on princess, choke me a little,” Yoongi grunts through gritted teeth and so you do as you’re told, applying a light amount of pressure around Yoongi’s throat. You watch as Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth opens in pleasure, his tongue coming out to lick at the corner of his lips. The glint of his tongue ring makes you whine. Your body manages to fight through the overstimulation of his cock fucking into you over and over again as you take over as much as Yoongi is allowing you.
Now, you’re using each other and it’s never felt so fucking pleasurable. You eye the polaroids that Yoongi had taken early scattered around the sofa around his body and you smirk as the tears are rolling down your cheeks in small rivulets. You are both drowning each other in sex so intense, the pleasure borders on almost painful.
With each drop off your hips, you feel him deep in your stomach. Your body burns in overexertion but you don’t stop until you’ve both reached your ends.
“I’m taking you so well, Yoongi, can you feel me!?” You swivel your hips as you ask.
“Nobody got a pussy like yours… best pussy I’ve ever fucked, princess, swear.” Yoongi rasps through your hold on his throat. At his words, you squeeze your fingers just a little tighter around his throat.
“You gonna come, angel?”
You nod at him. “I’m so close, please. Please, I need to!” You beg him to let you finally reach your climax, your hips working faster.
“Just like that baby, you’re doing so good.” you could hear that his voice is straining as his hips become sloppier in their movements. Your spare hand reaches for the headrest of the sofa behind him.
“Fuck, yes, keep going, keep going, I’m gonna fill you to the fucking brim, gonna watch you bloat with my cum,” Yoongi is loud, not afraid who around you both hears his promise to you.
The living room fills with moans and skin slapping against skin as the pair of you use each other to reach your climaxes. Finally, yoongi leans forward and takes a nipple in between his teeth and runs both his tongue bars over the hardened bud back and forth. Yoongi bites down hard and in return, your pussy vices him in and your hands release from his neck. All at once, Yoongi’s breath hitches as the air returns to his burning lungs and comes inside of you, filling you with his hot sticky white seed as he paints your body with filthy praises.
Soon after, you meet your orgasm shortly behind his own. Your body stills as you tremble above him as your body releases your arousal all over Yoongi, making a mess of him and probably the couch underneath.
He is quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you as your body twitches through your orgasm. Yoongi can’t help but give tiny shallow thrusts to help aid you through it.
You both bask in the glow of intense sex as you both collapse onto each other. Yoongi is the first to move as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up off of his softening cock. The feeling of him moving through your sensitive cunt causes you to hiss but you pout when he has fully removed himself.
After catching his breath, Yoongi guides you to lie down on the sofa as he reaches once more for the polaroid.
“Yoongi, what’re you—,” you’re cut off with the familiar click of the camera and bright flash momentarily brightening up the living room before bathing it back in it’s natural darkness.
“I can’t fuck you that well and not get the money shot, can I?” You hear the smirk in his voice. You feel a hand wrap around your ankle and then your legs are being pried apart slowly. “C’mon, let me see how messy you are for me, yeah?”
Now it’s your turn to laugh as you indulge Yoongi in his request, giving him the opportunity to get the device up close and personal to your cunt before snapping a new image.
“Yeah, these are definitely going into the wank bank for later.”
© 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.
#min yoongi#bts fanfic#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi drabble#yoongi faanfic#yoongi fluff#yoongi imagine#min yoongi smut#yoongi one shot#bts smut#bts fluff#bts x you#bts angst#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#yoongi series#yoongi fanfic
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