#bts yoongi fluff

[citrustan]

hi, drabble request! hope this reaches you too 💌

yoongi & reader domestic fluff spice 🫣

hii thanks for this! i'm kinda rusty so i'm assuming domestic is when they're in a relationship and share a home (?)

this is not an original scenario, i simply can't remember where i first saw/read this or something similar. i know 'himym' introduced the 'olive theory' so let's just say this is based on that!

mushroom theory (myg)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, boyfriend!yoongi x girlfriend!reader, smut but not all the way. + i picture yoongi to be older than the reader.

warnings: some tit stuff bec if you haven't already realised by now, i love boob, yoongi gropes reader, some grinding and finger stuff. boyfriend loves being called oppa. < i might've overdone that 🤐

You barge into your home, pushing Yoongi out of the way, "I can't believe I didn't know you liked mushrooms. Why did you let me eat them every time?"

Yoongi follows you in and shrugs, "I thought you liked them."

Flabbergasted, you almost screech, "I hate mushrooms! They're.... fungus and gross and I can't believe you made me eat them all these months."

How is he so nonchalant about it?

You step out of your heels and balance yourself on each foot, one at a time, as you pull your socks off of them.

Yoongi wants to laugh but he knows this is serious for you, "I don't know what to say, babe, you never asked."

"Because I thought," you emphasise on your subjects, "I was doing you a favour."

"By eating every mushroom you see?" Yoongi finally grins.

Abruptly turning, you chuck a sock at him (which he dodges swiftly) and frown, "You're laughing. I stuff myself, FOR YOU, with the only food I hate and you're laughing."

Slowly making his way over to you, Yoongi sighs, "It's not that serious, _____. You never have to eat one again, ever."

Unwilling to let it go, you interrogate him, "Riddle me this; why did you push all those mushrooms to the side on our first date? You picked every single one out."

He walks past you to the couch, where your other sock lay. "I was saving them for the end."

"But you let me eat them," your brows scrunch in confusion, "Why didn't you stop me?"

He beacons you over with a 'come closer' motion of his finger.

Yoongi pulls the oversized sweater over your head. "Well, you put them all in your mouth before I could stop you. Sorry. I thought you'd hurt me if I said anything."

You swat him with your sleeve, "I just didn't want to condone food wastage."

The rant is endless. "I mean, I've never seen you serve yourself mushrooms either! Your friends are evil too. They waited all this time to tell me you loved mushrooms. You people just watched on as I suffered."

"_____, we're going in circles." With his finger, Yoongi directed you to turn around and you happily comply.

You exasperate, "Sorry! I just can't believe I could've gone all those months without secretly gagging during every meal."

Yoongi presses himself against your back enveloping you in a hug, and suggests, "Why don't we make a list of the foods we like and dislike?"

Leaning back into him, you slur, "Maybe..."

More like sulk.

Yoongi drags his large hands up and down your arms and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in pursuit.

When he feels you lax, Yoongi sneakily inches under your white cotton camisole, prodding at and caressing your underboob, enjoying the softness of your skin.

You lock your arms down so he wouldn't pull away easily.

His fingers work their way towards your perked nipples. You help him out a little and pull the flimsy neckline of your top lower to free your breasts.

He wets the pads of his fingers with his tongue and skillfully circles them all over your areola, avoiding your nipples.

You fidget a little as Yoongi teases you, holding off on *actual* foreplay.

"Stop moving, _____." Yoongi scolds.

You squirm more, grinding back against his crotch, letting out small moans of frustration and pleasure.

Indirectly, you motivate him to continue messing with you. He gets off on your bratty yet submissive demeanour.

"Oppa, please..." you whine, "I'm gonna cry..."

Yoongi nearly laughs at how eager you were.

Not wanting to torture you any longer, he spins you around to face him and dives in, tonguing your nipples. At first, he uses his hands to squeeze your tits together, giving him access to both nipples at once. He wets both your nipples, lickng and sucking on them.

"Oppa! More! Please!" You squeal a few incoherent words along the lines of 'harder' 'yes' and 'more'.

You grab onto his almost shoulder-length hair and push your chest harder against his mouth.

One of his giant hands is now wrapped around your lower back to support your wobbly-self, and the other is busied with rubbing, pressing on and gently pinching your free nipple while the other is caught in his mouth.

The cool air attacks your nipples, hardening them even more, each time he pulls them out of his warm, and wet mouth. It's never-ending.

Yoongi kisses, licks and sucks on your nipples as his hands travel down to grope your ass. You desperately grind your aching pussy on him.

You're seeing stars at this point.

Catching on to it, Yoongi spins you around yet again, making your back face him.

It's an everyday thing for the two of you. Your boyfriend was obsessed with your breasts.

Almost every night, after Yoongi's back home from a tiring day at work, he demands to make out with your tits and you've never skipped out on that opportunity.

Sometimes it even helps you sleep better after he's done suckling and slobbering all over your chest. (Or maybe it's the orgasm that helps.)

You begin to sway, with your back still pressed against Yoongi's front, to imaginary music as he struggles to undo your skirt.

Playfully, you condescend, "Does oppa need help taking a teensy skirt off?"

Yoongi looks taken aback. Scoffing, he roughly lifts your skirt, pulling it up higher and revealing your painfully regular, unsexy, washed-out blue cotton panties. You gasp mischievously, "Oppa, be gentle!"

Wasting no time, he grabs you by the waist and drags you to his recliner chair, walking backwards. You pout, feigning offense, "Oppa, you're so harsh..."

Yoongi scoffs in amusement and plops on the comfortable chair, pulling you down on his lap. You squeak an apology when your back harshly smacks into his face (although by no fault of yours.)

Yoongi groans and pulls your knees apart, elevating and pulling them back towards your heads, exposing your still clothed centre.

Yoongi wishes he had a mirror in front of the two of you so he could watch your expressions as he teases you. Maybe he'd bribe you to tag along to IKEA with him the very next day.

You're dripping through your panties, halfway to an orgasm. All because of Yoongi's mouth on your tits. It's only a little humiliating.

Your breathing stabilizes as Yoongi gives you time to steady yourself.

That doesn't last too long after Yoongi's finger traces your sensitive, puffy lips. You jerk and shiver involuntarily, but he holds you in place. The shielded, tiny bundle of nerves yearning to be played with makes you clench around nothing.

Yoongi stuffs his hand inside your panties and begins palming your pussy, getting your essence all over his palm. Your head instantly lolls back as you thank him profusely.

Yoongi groans, his fingers instantly finding your clit, "Fuck... _____, you're so wet. Didn't even have to use my spit. So fucking slippery already..." His throaty tone making you hornier by the second, you moan in delight, "Mm! Oppa... please don't stop..."

Yoongi feels like a pervert getting off on being called 'oppa' by you as he continues teasing your clit, lightly drawing circles on the hood.

"Oppa, please I need your cock in me. Want you to creampie me..."

A little surprised, he scoffs, "What a desperate slut."

You moan (whine) in agreement.

He's unbelievably hard but he won't give in just yet. He kisses the back of your shoulder instead.

Yoongi's middle and ring fingers tease your tight, wet entrance while he thumbs your clit (a little harder this time.)

"Show me your hands." Yoongi's demand confuses your already-dazed self but you comply, lifting both your open palms up close to your faces.

With his free hand, one at a time, Yoongi pulls your hands to his mouth and licks your fingers, "Play with your tits."

You obey and begin tenderly squeezing your breasts, feeling all around and over your areola, rubbing Yoongi's spit on them while gradually building up to toying with your perked nipples.

Never taking his thumb off your clit, he speeds up, now drawing tight circles on your ultra sensitive sweet spot. Your legs spread themselves wider and your fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they mindlessly pinch and soothe your sensitive nubs.

You're unapologetically leaking on Yoongi's very expensive trousers. He doesn't mind though. Yoongi wouldn't mind even if you peed on him. HIS words, not yours.

"Yoongi. Oh, Yoon- Yoonie..." Your whines and moans get breathier and (variations of) his name frequents your tongue as you begin to squirm harder in his lap.

Torturous, his digits continue their assault on your puffy little cunt.

Still barely penetrating you with two of his fingers, Yoongi presses his thumb down harder on your clit flicking it side to side, earning high-pitched cries from you.

Your breathing quickens and your hips lift involuntarily. Your orgasm's so close you can smell it. As can your boyfriend.

Yoongi's face twists in pleasure, watching only his fingers pull these reactions out of you.

"Please, faster, Yoonie... I'll be so good for you, oppa." Letting go off your breasts, you grip the arm of the recliner and your boyfriend's too. You begin grinding down on Yoongi's stiff cock, still hidden in his pants, as you near your climax.

Your somewhat coherent moans turn into nonsensical cries and babbles as Yoongi rubs your pussy faster every second.

The back of your head slams into Yoongi's shoulder. Taking advantage of the change in your posture, he leans in to kiss you, muffling your borderline screams, still playing with your clit.

"Mmmffhp...!!" A specific, very intentional, graze of Yoongi's finger on your other, tight hole sends you through the roof.

Yoongi vocalises in content and satisfaction as you begin to writhe uncontrollably on his lap as your orgasm takes over your entire body.

He palms your pussy to distribute the pressure and help you avoid overstimulation.

You force your tongue into his mouth and suck on his own as he brings you back down on Earth.

The muscles of your lips hurt from kissing so hard.

Reluctantly, Yoongi's the one who pulls away first.

He draws your legs shut and lays you across his lap, as well as the chair could accommodate it, supporting your upper back and head with his arms.

Yoongi smiles and watches your tummy move up and down as you breathe, thinking you'd be falling into slumber anytime now.

After lying motionless for another few minutes, your eyes open and focus on the fond expression on your boyfriend's face.

Your smile comes naturally as you decide to straddle him. All things innocent, of course.

Six months ago, Yoongi most likely wouldn't have known you. If he had somehow noticed you, he probably only knew you as just another girl from his friend's workplace who invited herself to every one of their group hangouts to stare at Yoongi. Not that he ever complained. But now, you're one of, if not the most important people in his life without whom he'd be incomplete.

As cheesy as it sounds, he can't rephrase it. You complete him. You're 'it' for him.

Resting your cheek on top of Yoongi's head, you sigh dreamily, "Thank you."

"Mm." Yoongi simply vocalised in response and held you in an embrace, planting innocent kisses across your breasts.

A peaceful moment passes. Then you gasp in realisation, "Oppa!" You cheer, "We have the whole 'olive theory' thing going!"

Yoongi pulls away to look up at you. The red 'afterglow' tinge on Yoongi's face darkens just a little, thoroughly endeared by your usage of the affectionate term. Almost to the point where he nearly misses everything it was followed by.

He catches himself, "We do?"

"It's this theory that tests how compatible a couple is." You explain, "If one likes olives and the other doesn't, they'd be the perfect match!"

Ah.

"So you're saying we're a perfect match?" Yoongi smirks, feeling smug.

You blink down at him, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I would." He nods, "I love you."

Placing a chaste kiss on Yoongi's lips, you smile, "Good." It's sort of an unspoken 'I love you too'.

note: im sooo sorry it took so long! this was like one of the first requests i received so thanks again!

i'm still learning to write smut ok be nicE

this is unedited too 🫣 srry

[yoonguurt]

Summary: Just Yoongi making sure you know his feelings

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x afab!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Word count: 1.2K

A/N: this has been plaguing me for days and I just needed to get it out. This is probably the fastest I have ever written anything, but it feels good to have it out. As always @kwanisms did my graphics and my smut warnings are under the cut. @anyamaris this won't be considered one of your attacks so just enjoy this one.

Smut warnings: nipple play, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dick goes in but there's no actual fucking.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” A quick glance to the clock at the top of the screen of your phone shows that it’s 3am. Your eyes flicker from your phone to the figure standing in your doorway. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Korea?” The sass is evident in your voice, which is exactly what you mean to happen. You hear your boyfriend heave a tired sigh as you watch his figure get closer to your bed. The bed dips as Yoongi sits down beside you, his hand reaching out to your knee. You pull away, turning on your side. Are you being a little mean? Yes. Do you think that he deserves it? Also yes.

One week, 6 hours, 10 minutes and 13 seconds. Exactly how long it’s been since you talked to him. No video calls, no regular calls, no texts. Nothing. Maybe you’re a little clingy, but you did warn Yoongi when he asked you to be his. You had always known that a long distance would be difficult, and it is. You’re pretty good at dealing with the distance, but when he goes no contact for more than a day, it messes with your mind. Does he even miss you? Does he still want this? Does he still want you?

In his defense, this is the first time it has happened. But your emotions have gotten the better of you. “Baby, talk to me.” Yoongi’s voice is tired, and your heart pangs a little at how haggard he sounds. He reaches toward you again, and you don’t pull away this time. He links his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. “I tried, Yoongi. I tried to talk to you, and you wouldn’t respond.” The light from the display of the air conditioning unit in your window is just enough to illuminate his beautiful face. He looks tired. “Are you tired of me, Yoongi? If you are, I need you to tell me right now.”

Yoongi’s expression twists from tired, to anger, to hurt. It happens so quickly that you can barely register the different emotions. He squeezes your hand and he leans forward to touch his forehead to yours, his voice in a whisper. “How can you ask me that?” He moves his face slowly, pressing a kiss to your nose. His lips press against each of your cheeks before they pause at your lips, waiting for a sign that it’s ok for him to move forward. A breathy whisper of his name is all he needs to press his lips to yours.

“How can you ask me that when I would bow at your feet if you asked?” His lips travel down your neck, living light kisses across your skin. Your body thrums with desire. The two of you have been intimate, but it always stopped at teasing touches and makeouts. He continues his descent down your body, his lips stopping just above your breast. He brings his eyes to focus on yours, another silent plea for your permission. You brush your fingers through his hair, which he’s kept long at your request, and give him a small nod.

He slowly strips you of your shirt, leaning back to admire your bare skin. Yoongi’s hands gently cup your breasts, giving a tender squeeze. He brings his face down, pressing another kiss to your lips. “How can you ask me that when I worship the ground you walk on?” His lips find your perked nipple. You arch into him with a gasp, bringing your hand to the back of his head. He groans into you when you give his hair a tender pull. His tongue flicks over your nipple slowly, obviously taking his time with you.

The mixture of his sweet words and the adoring touch has your panties sticking to your wet folds. It’s no secret that Yoongi is more of an actions over words man. Over the last 6 months, this is the only time you have doubted his feelings for you. When he’s with you, he’s with you. He’s present. There haven’t been any declarations of intense feelings, even his asking to be more than friends wasn’t overly romantic, but his actions let you know that he does really care for you.

Yoongi’s kisses have made their way down your body to your belly button. You look down to see his gaze is already on you, while his hands are at the top of your panties, just waiting for your consent. “Please.” Your voice is barely audible, but it’s loud enough for your boyfriend to hear. His fingers wrap around the hem of the only article of clothing you have left on your body, barely moving as he slides them down your legs. You lift your hips to help him get you completely nude, watching as he tosses your underwear to the side. His body slides down the bed to rest between your spread legs, face directly in front of your dripping cunt.

“How can you ask me that when I fucking love you?” His tongue is on you before you can really process what he’s just said to you. Your hands are fisted into your bedsheets, trying to ground yourself. The swirls of his tongue on your clit are making your head fuzzy. Your thoughts are clouded by the sheer amount of pleasure such small actions are giving you. The introduction of a finger at your entrance has you letting out an audible moan. You can feel your boyfriend smirk against your folds and he thrusts his finger slowly.

It doesn’t take long for a second finger to make its presence known, sliding in to join its neighbor. The stretch is delicious and the curl of his fingers hits exactly where you need it to. Yoongi picks up his pace. His tongue swirls over your bud faster, only stopping for him to suck your clit into his mouth. Every thrust of his fingers has you gushing and each time you clench on his fingers, Yoongi moans. It’s a deadly combination of actions that has you hurling toward the edge. You can feel the muscles tightening, getting ready to snap at any second. Yoongi pulls his mouth away from you and you whine. He gives you a small chuckle. “Come for me, my love.” And you do.

His fingers work you through your orgasim, gradually slowing down as you ride out your high. When he pulls out of you, he brings his fingers to his mouth to clean them of the taste of you. He brings his face back to yours, kissing you deeply. Your hands immediately fly to the band of the sweats he’s wearing, trying to get them down his legs. His laugh makes you smile into the kiss. He pulls back, positioning himself between your legs again. “Are you sure?” All you can do is nod enthusiastically. He places his cock at your entrance, looking up at you when you speak. “I love you, Yoongi.”

He gives you his signature gummy smile. “I know. I love you, too.” His words are punctuated by him sliding himself into you. The first time saying those three little words may not have been how people would normally imagine it, but to you, it’s perfect. If it’s Yoongi, how can you not think it’s perfect?

[yoongikapi]

dates || ot7 || drabble

just pure fluff

masterlist

namjoon:

❥ namjoon would ABSOLUTELY take you on beautiful walks through the park or cute lil nature walks

❥ and at golden hour the sun would hit his face just right and he’d look otherworldly, you’d smile and he’d ask why but you’d just squeeze his hand tighter

❥ he’d also love if you ask him to take you to the aquarium. he’d probably point out a couple of fish swimming together and say that it’s just like the two of you

<3

jin:

❥ he’d enjoy taking you out to a fancy restaurant, he would absolutely joke that he could do better than the chefs and you joke back that he should apply for a job

❥ it would make him smile if he took you to an amusement park, you’d want to play the games and he’d win a big RJ plushie for you

❥ he’d tightly hold your hand on the roller coaster rides, and grip the handle with his other hand and you’d laugh at him for being so scared

❥ “i wasn’t scared, i was just keeping you safe”

<3

yoongi:

❥ he’d be perfectly content with staying home and watching a movie with you; you’d vote on watching a scary movie and he’d say no. in the end he’d play whatever it is you wanted though

❥ you would cry if he setup a romantic dinner date; candles would cover the room and to top it off he’d play a song he wrote for you

❥ his sweet voice and beautiful guitar would be the only thing that mattered in that moment, you’d hug him tight and thank him for such a perfect night

<3

hobi:

❥ he’d tell you to dress fancy and take you to a dance club

❥ he’d try to teach you some moves but would end up taking your hands in his and would just jump around with you; your smile would light up the room and your laugh would ring in his ears

❥ he’d blush and when the slow songs played, he’d hold you close and spin with you, and would be quick to forgive you when you step on his toes

<3

jimin:

❥ this man would LOVE to spoil you

❥ he’d take you to the fanciest places he knows and would let you pick out whatever you wanted, you’d fight him on paying for some things and he would laugh after you’d see the prices as he hands the clerk his card

❥ “let me buy you something nice too” you’d tell him and he’d agree, you’d hold his hand tighter leading him to the dollar store

(i’m so sorry but we broke)

<3

taehyung:

❥ 100% would take you to an art museum, he’d bring his camera and take cute pictures of you

❥ the two of you would laugh as you setup a self- timer and run to get a good picture together in time

❥ he’d also love to do a painting date with you

❥ he’d setup everything and you’d be shocked when you got home to see the living room covered with canvases and painting supplies; the two of you would laugh at each others’ attempts at painting each other

<3

jungkook:

❥ you’d hug and kiss and thank him so much and he’d just smile when he surprised you with tickets to your favorite artist

❥ you’d jump up and down and scream the songs, he’d just stand there holding your purse but he loves to see you happy and would do anything for you

❥ he’d take you ice skating and would hold on tight to you to keep you from falling

❥ “jungkook you’re good at everything” you’d tell him

❥ he’d simply smile and agree with you

<3

[bts-trash-blog]

Best Of Us

Chapter 23: No Apologizes 

Summary: Being an Omega is hard, it could be so lonely. The hardships that you would sometimes feel seemed to much, always expected of things you could never fully reach. Always seen as a piece of meat to some, seen as weak and stupid. So you worked your ass off to finally work your dream job. And the world all changed when you met one of the bosses. And couldn't help but end up falling.

Paring: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby OmegaReader

Warning: A/O/B!VERS, mentions of sexual harassment, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, angst, possessive behavior, more warnings will be added as needed.

PREV._.NEXT

You woke up the next morning, eyes crusted over and drool dried on your chin. Sniffling you stretch a yawn dropping from your chest as you roll onto your back. The sound of your back popping had you whining as the sound of your phone dinging again and again then your phone started to ring. Reaching for it  you see Namjoon was face-timing you making your eyes widen as you face the front camera to the ceiling and answer.

“Morning honey! I heard you and Yoon had a good date last night.” Namjoon calls through the phone then he starts to giggle. “Where are you?”

“Hiding.”

“Why?” His question made you whine as you slap your hand on your face.

“I look horrible.” You whine making him giggle as you hear him shuffling.

“I highly doubt that baby, come on let me see you I miss your face.”

“I have no makeup and I’m all puffy.”

“Y/n I’ve seen you in the morning before.” He paused as you peek over, your face still out of view but his face was fully on show. His eyes are puffy, his hair a mess and covered lightly with a hoodie that looks all too familiar.

“Is that my hoodie?” Your question seemed to surprise him as he jumped and then started stuttering-you could imagine his ears turning a bright red.

“What? Nono of course not.” He muttered, making you chuckle as he whined. “See not fair you can see me but I can’t see you-I want to see you.” He whispers, making you huff as you roll over and sit up. Grabbing your phone you move to your face as you finally move for the screen to face you. “Hi beautiful….love your hair.” He chuckles, making you whine as you move the camera back away from your face, making him whine once again.”Wait wait please.” He huffed making you giggle as he let out an actual whimper making your heart thud as you slowly let your face pop up onto his screen. His frown slowly evaporating as he sees more and more of your face. “Drooly!” he said with a teasing smile as you huffed and glared at him.

“Bye.” You mumbled, hanging up making you giggle to yourself as your facetime started ringing again. Pressing the answer button you quickly see a pouting Namjoon.

“I'm sorry.”  He muttered, making you giggle as you whip at your chin. “But you are drooly-my drooly.” He mumble quickly making you roll your eyes as you shake your head at him.

“I swear if you call me that.” You huff making him smile brightly at you, your next words cut off with a knock at your bedroom door- sighing you huff as it cracks open your moms head peeking through as she smiles.

“Hey baby-just wanted to check in and make sure you took your morning dose?” You blink slowly while shaking your head as you hear Namjoon humm.

“I'm not in pain so I think I can hold it off till the afternoon.”

“Y/n.” Your mom scolds as you pout, hearing Namjoon clearing his throat making you look over at your phone.

“Pup you gotta take it so you’ll stay out of pain-so take it so we can maybe go out this afternoon on a lunch date? Just me and you?”

“But I can wai-”

“Then I won’t take you out-not gonna make you and your body be in a uncomfortable state just to go out wi-”

“But I wouldn’t be uncomfortable with Joonie.”

“How do you know?” His question had your mother humming, shoulders straightening as she gave you a ‘I told you so’ look as you held your hand out making her smile as she moved to your side table-grabbing your pill bottles and handing you your dosage as you sigh as the glass of water that she had brought up was shoved into your face. Taking your meds you look down at your phone screen and huff.

“Happy?”

“Hmm good girl.” At his words it instantly felt like your blood was on fire, the way it heated your body from the tips of your ears to your fingers and toes. It had you rolling your eyes as you let out a soft chirp as your mother giggled making you look at her.

“Mom-leave.”

“Oh but that blush of yours is just so cute.”

“Mommmm.” You whine as she pats the top of your head, shuffling the strains of your hair as you sigh. Namjoon chuckles once more as you look at him and pout.

“She’s telling the truth- you look all cute red.”

“I’ll hang up again.” Your words had him whining as you heard your mother chuckling as she walked out of your room as you sat up and yawn. “So lunch date?” You asked as you saw him nod a large smile on his face as you tilt your head at him.

“Yeah I know this cute little ramen spot- I went there all the time when I was in school.” He paused as he smiled brightly above the camera. “Hey babe.”

“Hi Joonie, who are you on the phone with?”

“Y/n.”

“Oh my pup!” Hoseok's voice calls out as his head pokes out of the top of the screen. His eyes bright, his scrunched nose making you smile brightly as you wave at him.

“Morning Alpha.” Your words had him letting out a shaken breath as you see a deep blush spreading across the apples of his cheeks.

“Making Hobi all red.” Namjoon chuckles, making the Alpha shush at him as he moves to sit next to the Omega.”The two of you look so cute all red.”

“Omega.” Hoseok mutters a small growl after the last letter it had you moving your thighs together as you take a shaken deep breath in. “Teasing me isn't very nice.” He paused as you see his hand spread across Namjoon's neck as you clear your throat as you see a smirk lifting at the end of his mouth. “Yet I think our little pup likes the teasing- especially with what Yoon said last night…” His words had your cheeks flaring up- your eyes widening as you drop your phone down, sitting up and covering your face as you whine at his words. “Alpha was very vocal about how whiny you were.” Namjoon whispered, making you peek back at your phone screen, seeing Namjoons face, and it looked like pure ecstasy. Hoseok's face was pressed into his neck, one arm around his neck holding his jaw and the other was spread across his chest. You could see his tongue poke out with each shaken breath Namjoon let out and it had you whining again. Grabbing your phone you prop it up against a pillow that rests on your head board as you catch Hoseok's eyes. You couldn't tell where the dark eyes were looking- your messy hair or the way you had changed into a crop top tank top- your stomach almost on full display. But it could also be your shorts- black and tight. His eyes jumped everywhere and so did Namjoons.

“You’re okay if I touch him, pup? Huh? Can I touch our Joonie with you on video call?” His question had you whimpering as you moved to pull at your shorts, trying to tug them down, twist them around. Yet the small bruises on the side caught your eyes, making Hoseok's chuckle. “Yoongi hyung wasn't very gentle last night was he- he was about drooling, explaining how you looked in the skirt-and his cock was twitching when he talked about the way your thighs squeezed his hips.”

“And the way they felt in his hands-god pup he is obsessed with your thighs.” Namjoon cut off the Alpha, making Hoseok's growl slightly against his skin-though the mention of Yoongi and you being brought up once again made your heart skip a beat- wondering just how much the Alpha had told the other two. “Please can Alpha touch me,please please.” Namjoon begged, making your eyes snap up at the two, Namjoon's phone was now propped against what you assumed was the lamp on the nightstand. Hoseok now behind Namjoon, one hand still wrapped around his jaw yet the other was now moving up and down the Omegas torso. “Please please please.” Namjoon begged, making you nod, lip being pulled by your teeth as Hoseok tutted, his head lifting from Namjoons neck making him whine as he panted up at the Alpha.

“Say yes or no. I don't do the nodding little girl.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Alpha.” You automatically said, making him chuckle and shake his head as the fire burned from your core upwards. The feeling had you blinking rapidly as he shakes his head once again. “Please?”

“Please what pup?”

“Please touch him?” You mumbled, a question towards the end head tilting- making Namjoon let out a moan as Hoseok smiled at you.

“Yeah? You want to watch me touch our Omega?”

“Yes.” You whispered as you watched the way his hand moved down the black fabric of your hoodie as you saw Namjoons fingers peeking from the edge of the sleeves as his hand moved to grip Hoseok's arm that was wrapped around his shoulders.

“Alpha please.” Namjoon whines as you see the way Hoseok's hand drops lower and lower to the gray sport shorts that Namjoon was wearing. You could see the outline of his cock- the way it twitched when he looked at you and you swear you could see the glissing of slick going down his inner thigh as he whined. Hoseok's hand pressing against this bulge as his head throws itself back against the Alphas shoulder.

“God you should smell how sweet he is.” Hoseok's words had you whining as you moved to rest on your knees as you saw the way Namjoons hips buckled upwards as Hoseok moved down and pressed a kiss to Namjoon's lips. As the two made out you felt your slick dripping thickly- it had you growing frustrated- too nervous to actually touch yourself in this moment but also too embarrassed to even ask. “Fuck.” Hoseok whispered, it had you looking to see his eyes on you- watch as your thighs move against one another as you huff hands moving to cover your face as he chuckled. “Eyes on us baby- or did Yoongi not teach you anything last night.”

“Di-did he tell you everything?” You whisper, nerves pulling at your heart and your brain starting to feel fuzzy. Blinking away warmth behind your eyes as Namjoon whined as Hoseoks stopped his actions- his hand freezing from slipping into Namjoons shorts as he sighed softly.

“No- not everything he said he wanted to keep some stuff between just the two of you-baby..hey hey look at me-’mega move real fast.” Hoseok muttered- the tears you were fighting finally falling as you huff hands moving back to cover your face as you whined slightly.

“Sorry sorry-just-just.” You stumble over your words as you hear Namjoon whine softly as you look back to the phone as you rub at your eyes. Namjoons face was dazed- yet focused on you. His eyes wide and blown out as he took a deep breath in trying to stabilize his breathing as he moved closer to the phone following Hoseok's movements.

“Omega?”

“Sorry sorry.” You mumbled quickly to hang up, you mind wandering to the night before. How intimate it had been between you and Yoongi. How personal you had gotten with the Alpha- and though you understood you were being courted by the trio-that you four would be a pack. Yet you thought that something would be kept between the two of you-- like Namjoon had said- you thought that last night would’ve fallen into that. You thought the bruises and teasing was going to be well kept secrets only spoken though hush whispers and lingering looks shared to the others only when you had spoken to each other about it. The constant buzzing interrupted your thoughts as your reached forward to see Namjoon had sent message after message

Joonie: pick up

Joonie: Please Y/n

Jooie:he didn't say anything but what we said. I swear.

Joonie: Baby i swear to you

Joonie: Please just pick up- Y/n

Joonie: I dont mean to sound like an ass but pick the fuck up

Joonie: Hoseok and I are on our way.

You felt tears building in your eyes as you took in a deep breath fighting off the fuzzy feeling that was slowly over taking your brain-your vision becoming slightly blurry- you couldn’t tell if it was from your mind dropping or from the tears. Why did you hang up? Why did you have to ruin the moment for Namjoon first off- secondly why did Yoongi have to tell them and why did it make you feel-used? The sound of your phone dinging again had you looking down and opening the message.

Hobi: We’re on the way to you pup-we talk things through not just hang up or not talk about how we feel in this pack. Be there soon.

You felt your chest tighten, your whimpering and whining growing with each breath you took- you dropped your head-phone falling out of your hands as you dive into your pillows. Trying to cover your sounds not knowing if your mom was still home or not. Yet your fear was confirmed as the knock on your door and her scent spilt into the room.

“Oh baby.” Your mothers voice calls out-her scent growing stronger and stronger till you move your head to look over and see her-her makeup slightly done-hair pulled back and her eyes tilted in worry. “What's wrong?”

“Made Alpha mad.” You whimpered, making her sigh as her hand reached forward as you felt her hand rubbing into your hair.

“What happened?”

“Alpha mad.” You repeated making her nod slowly as you phone went off again-the ringing made you let out an actual sob making your mom reach forward answering the ringing phone with a soft sigh.

“Hello? Yes she’s here-yeah I have to go to work…yeah I think she did….yeah I can try to wait for you guys..what happened?” You whimpered as your mother paused, once again-hand moving through your hair making you huff as you moved your head against her hand tears slowing down as you tried to ground yourself. “I think I understand. She seems very upset….yeah ten minutes? Yeah yeah okay yeah see you then bye.” Your moms lips pressed against your temple phone being placed on your nightstand as you take a deep shaky breath in. “Baby no ones mad.”

“But but..”

“No one is mad. I swear.” She whispers, making you nod softly as you feel the fuzziness lift from your mind as you take a deep breath in trying to focus on your breathing.  “They’ll be here to talk about what happened-I’m not sure what exactly happened but from what I understand miscommunication is the main issue here my baby.”  you sigh, nodding slowly as you take another deep breath in-still trying to stabilize yourself. “I’m gonna finish getting ready. I have to go in today- they’ll be here soon okay?” Nodding once again she leans forward pressing a kiss to your temple as she stands and moves out of your room-leaving your door open slightly. As you steady your breathing- one of your blankets between your legs wrapping into your hands and being kneaded between your fingers.

Suddenly a rapid knock-and the sound of the door opening had your heart rate picking up, your breathing also grew rapidly as you blinked again and again trying to stop the flow of tears. Yet they seemed to just fall when the scent of Namjoon entered your room. It had you looking up to see said Omega. Still in the same clothes he was in before- the gray shorts shuffled up slightly on one of his legs- your black hoodie wrinkled and the hood thrown over his head and glasses sliding down his nose as he looked at you. A deep whine leaving his chest as he suddenly came towards your bed-dropping onto his knees as he leaned his head onto your mattress as he let out whimpers and whines. His eyes staring at you- the way you sniffled and shuffled around- it had him huffing and puffing.

“Can I come into your nest?” His question had you nodding slowly as you nuzzled into the blanket you were kneading. His body moving to crawl over you, the way his warm body moved against yours had you feeling as if you were vibrating. He fit perfectly behind you, his arms resting around your waist as his nose nuzzled into the back of your neck. Legs twisting into yours as you felt his other arms move under your neck, it had your letting out a soft whine as you quickly turned around and moved your head into his chest. The feeling of his fingers running through your hair as you take a deep shaky breath in. “You’re okay- first off we’re not mad-not at all.” he paused kissing the top of your head as you wrapped your arms around his waist as you took a deep breath in the smell of his slick still fairly thick with his natural scent. “Alpha is just upset you let your feeling build up into not wanting to to talk to us- we always talk things through okay? Always no matter if we are screaming at each other or about to fuck-we stop everything all togther and we talk everything through do you hear me pup? We'll talk it out.” He pauses as you look up at him and nod- your mind racing as you take another deep breath in. “Now I had Hoseok stay in the car. I know you probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable with him coming in here- but he said if I don't come down with you in ten minutes he was gonna come and get you.” he mumbled a small smirk curled at the end of his lips as he looks down at you. A small gleam in his eyes as you huffed and moved to nuzzle into his neck making him flinch back slightly and let out and awkward mix of a moan and a giggle. “I’m still scestive.” He breathed out making you huff a laugh as you rolled on top of him slightly the feeling of him twitching below you had you look down at his shorts watching the way he shuffled around then back up to his face as he chuckled awkwardly at you. “Sorry.”

“No..don't be, I'm sorry I made a scene and Hoseok stopped.”

“No-no sorrys about that, we can always have that type of stuff happen again-trust me they treat me very well and we are very uh active I will say. “ He words were met with an awkward giggle as you nod against his chest. “So lets pack a bag-make sure you have work clothes for the next couple of days just to be safe- and then we’ll head over to our den.” his words had you tilt your head as he smiled down at you.

“Our den?”

“Well yeah? Hoseok clears a couple draws for you in the closet to start and a whole hanging rack too- and Yoongi is talking about getting you a vanity for you to get ready at.” He paused, making you smile brightly at him-you move forward nudging your nose against his as he huffed your way. You quickly pull away til it your head at him then move forward to kiss him on the lips- your tongue swiping his lips making him moan as you felt his hips jutting against your thigh as you pull away and smile teasingly at him. “Yeah no we’re gonna get you that vanity now.” His words had you giggling as he moved to press another kiss against your lips, his hands moving to wrap around your waist and his fingers grip at your top.  Lips moving together as you pull back and let out a soft breath.

“We can pack now.” You whisper his head nodding as you smile softly at him.

“Are you still out of it?”

“Yeah a little- not too bad though.”

“Good-well after we talk things out…maybe we can finish what we were doing over the phone.” he mumbled, making you blush deeply as you pull back and nod slowly making him move forward. His body slowly made you lay back down as he leaned over you. “I’ll make sure to mark you just how I need to- god  can’t wait to see you covered.” He whispered, making your blush deepen as he chuckled, kissed your nose and rolled off you. “Now where is your bag?”

TagList:

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[casuallyimagining]

Fallen (1) | myg

Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Summary: If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then where does that leave you? Spurned by your ex-fiance, you seek the one person who can help. But as it turns out, the price of revenge may be a little more than you bargained for.

Genre: Fallen Angel AU, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst

Word Count: 9,208

Warnings: homelessness, abusive ex, manipulation, emotional abuse, forced isolation, major character injury, blood, mentions of critiques of organized western religion, threats of harm, brief mentions of an almost-panic attack, arguing, more to be added later

Notes: Thank you to @daechwitatamic and @madbutgloriouspond for reading through this fic and for listening to me talk about it literally every day. And thanks to @btsmosphere and @toikiii for helping me with the angst.

Fallen Masterlist | Next Part

Everything is grey. Or, at least, that’s how it feels. You rarely come this far uptown, where the trains run on elevated tracks instead of under your feet. You follow the tracks along the river. They said he’d be somewhere around here, under the el between the old Radio Shack and the bodega. Above, a train rumbles past, its speed whipping up a wind that blows your hair into your face. 

You pull your jacket closer and step over a puddle.

Honestly, uptown would be nice if it didn’t seem like it died in the 70s. But, at least near the el, everything gives off that decayed vibe. Faded posters still cling to the bricks in alleyways advertising bands that hadn’t toured in decades. Window displays for nameless stores show off mannequins dressed in clothes that would have been long out of fashion by the time you were born. 

Something glowing near one of the track supports draws your attention. It’s a metal trash can, its contents ablaze. Just behind the can, leaning against the steel support, is a man. His clothes are tattered, and as you get closer, you can see he’s sucking on a lollipop.

“Goat?” You’re almost in front of the burning can. The man doesn’t answer you, doesn't acknowledge you, he just continues to stare into the flames. “Are-are you Goat?” you try again, taking a step closer. “I’m looking for someone. I was told he’d be here–uptown under the tracks where no one comes. Some of them called him Goat.”

The man snorts derisively, a small, bitterly amused smirk appears on his lips. “Not to my face they don’t.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want,” you concede. He doesn’t seem to be upset, but you don’t want to push his buttons. “I need to talk to you.”

“No thanks, kid.”

“It’s important.”

The man–Goat, or whatever he’s called–rolls his eyes. “You humans are always so convinced you need my help.” He turns then, tossing the stick of his lollipop into the fire, and starts to walk away. “I’ll give you a piece of advice: you can’t handle it.” He throws the last thought over his shoulder, barely even turning his head.

You walk quickly to catch up. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m stronger than I look.”

As you emerge from the shadows of the el tracks, you’re able to get a better look at him. He’s slight, thin, with barely any visible muscle. His dark hair hangs long into his eyes, which are an intense shade of deep, dark brown. He doesn’t look like much, and for a moment, you think that maybe you have the wrong man. But there’s a quiet power to how he carries himself, as if he could turn into something all-powerful and terrifying in the blink of an eye. You can see it in how he walks, how he carries himself. He’s dressed like just another unhoused person, but there’s a confidence around him that would make it nearly impossible to think he’s anything else than the immovable force that he was.

“You would know a thing about being stronger than you look, I think,” you say quietly. 

He sighs and pauses beside a light pole, leaning against it and allowing you to fully catch up to him. “What do you want.” It’s not a question.

“I need something.”

He laughs, eyebrows raising in surprise. “You want a favor?”

“Not a favor. I’ll pay you.”

“You’ll pay me?”

“Anything you want.”

He shakes his head, pushing off the post and continuing to walk. This time, though, it’s much slower, as if he’s inviting you to keep up. You’re intrigued–he’s intriguing–and you aren’t about to give up yet. So you walk with him, up the street, past the dusty old bodega and into an alley.

“I don’t want anything,” he says, eyes focused ahead.

You shrug. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

He stops and turns to you, stepping close, so close that you can smell the smoke from the garbage fire on his clothes, in his hair. He inspects you, dark eyes gazing deeply into yours. “Who have you been talking to about me?”

“Your friends.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“The ones who live down here.”

Again, he laughs, stepping away from you. You can still smell the smoke of his clothes. “They’d kill me if they got the chance.” He continues walking, leading you down another side street. This one looks just as Disco Dead as the previous one. “You should watch your step. There are snakes everywhere.”

You sigh. At this rate, you’ll be dead before you convince him to help you. But you press on. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“How?”

“You tell me.”

He hums, scrubbing a hand along his chin in thought. He shoves his other hand into the pocket of his oversized, tattered coat. “What do you want, kid?”

“Revenge. On my ex-fiance. He’s…” You shake your head. Your ex-fiance is a lot of things. And you hate all of them. 

“Real winner, eh?” He hums, turning from the alley and onto the avenue. 

The shops here are just as old, the signs just as peeling and time-worn, but some of these are open. Their doors are propped open and music–a strange cacophony of reggae, latin fusion, and jazz–floats out onto the street from old boomboxes. Judging by the advertisements in the windows, these storefronts were stuck somewhere in the 90s. An improvement, but not quite enough.

Finally, he stops just outside of a run down electronics store. The front window still has a CRT tv that’s hooked up to a security camera filming the street. You and the man are reflected back in the screen. He’s standing so close to you that the sleeves of his tattered coat brush against your arm. 

“Sure, okay,” he says finally, the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk. 

For a moment, you’re taken aback. That was… much easier than you had expected it to be. Your shock must be evident on your face, because then he says, “What do you need?”

Carefully, you collect yourself, school your face into something you hope is a neutral expression. “I just want him to suffer.”

He whistles lowly, fluffing his hair. “Doesn’t exactly give me a lot to go off.”

“Can you do it or not?”

Briefly, he looks amused. His smirk turns into a smile. It’s soft, and it’s a little cocky, but it sets your mind at ease a little bit. “Might take a bit to get it right, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I want him ruined,” you say softly, taking a step closer. “Personally and professionally. Just like he did to me.”

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“Thank you, Goat.” You smile, and he smiles back. A wide, gummy thing that seems to show off all the teeth in his mouth. “Or, I guess…?”

“Yoongi. Call me Yoongi.”

It’s amazing how cold it’s gotten in the span of a couple weeks. It hasn’t snowed yet, but you can definitely tell that it’s going to soon. There’s something about the smell of the air, how the wind feels as it whips its way under the el tracks. The puddles under the track from the water and moisture dripping from the trains look frigid. You step around one and approach the man standing at the burning trash can.

He looks cold, too. He’s wearing the same tattered coat as last time, and now you notice the places where you can see his shirt through the holes. You wonder if he has anything else he could wear, any other layers he could put on now that it’s getting cold. You wonder if he has anywhere to go when the temperatures start to dip at night, somewhere other than huddled around a Hooverville fire. 

He smiles as you get closer, much different from the indifferent glare he’d fixed you with the first time, and you warm a little bit. It’s sweet, the half-grin he shoots your way, almost as if he’s excited to see you. You’d tried to keep your distance over the past few weeks, despite the fact that you’d been practically bursting at the seams to know how things were progressing. But that doesn’t mean you hadn’t seen him at all.

He’d wandered past your work a few days ago. You couldn’t be quite sure, but you were pretty sure he’d actually floated past the front windows of the bar. But he’d paused and waved, and you’d waved back only for your coworkers to look at you like you were crazy.

So there was a 50/50 chance that Yoongi was actually just a figment of your revenge-addled imagination. But you know. That’s what happens when you cavort with a fallen angel. C’est la vie. 

“Kid. You came.” He greets you cheerfully, his eyes focusing down on the fire in front of him. He reaches down beside him and grabs a small stack of papers–old posters and some trash, from the looks of it–and drops them into the flames. Sparks fly up, and you watch them glitter in his eyes. “I’m a little surprised, to be honest.”

“Well, it’s hard to ignore a creepy text from an unknown number asking you to meet under the el at nearly sundown.” You shrug. “You really should sign your texts. Or, I don’t know. Give me your number.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and scoffs, but you could swear his cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink than they already were.

The wind picks up, touseling his hair and chilling you to your core. You push your bag further up onto your shoulder and shove your hands deep into the pockets of your coat. Yoongi steps closer to the fire, visibly shivering, and again, you find yourself concerned for him. But before you can say anything, he clears his throat.

“I think I’m going to need some more details about what he did to you,” he says softly. You bristle at his words. Brown eyes find yours, and you can sense that he hates having to ask. 

You sigh. You’d hoped to be able to get through this without having to tell him about any of it. You’d done a lot of healing in the time since leaving your fiance, but so much of it still stung–and some of it, you were still dealing with the fallout. You’d thought that because of who he was, you wouldn’t have to tell Yoongi anything.

“I thought you could just sense that stuff.”

He frowns. “I can tell when it’s enough to balance out the universe. But I need to know what I’m balancing for.”

“What have you tried so far?”

“Admittedly not much just yet.” Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck. “I started small to test the waters. But between his keys disappearing and his clocks never being the correct time, he’ll never be on-time ever again. I’ve also crashed his computer several times and wiped a few important files. He’ll need them in a few days. He’s currently up for a promotion, but uh… not after his boss finds out that the reports for three of their biggest clients are gone.”

You hum. It’s a start. Your ex-fiance was incredibly dedicated to his job. You’d loved that about him, back when you loved him. So it did give you a sick sense of satisfaction to know that slowly, his job was slipping through his fingertips. But…

“It’s not enough,” you say sharply. “You need to go further.”

“Right. That’s why I was hoping you could give me more information.”

“Well, I…” You sigh. Where the hell do you even start? How the hell do you even start? You look around. The surrounding buildings are still grey, still decaying, still… damp. You can’t see them, but somewhere nearby, someone is rooting around in a dumpster. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware of how cold it is, and how stinging the wind is, and how exposed you are. You rub your arm. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

Yoongi watches you, and some emotion crosses his eyes. But you can’t tell what it is, and it’s gone before you can really even analyze it. Silently, he nods and holds out his hand. You think that maybe he’s going to lead you away again, on a goose chase through the weird eras of this part of uptown. But he doesn’t. 

Brown eyes meet yours for the briefest of seconds, and then a warm wind picks up, blowing Yoongi’s long hair into his eyes. Your stomach lurches and then something soft rises up to meet you. You open your eyes–when did you close them?--and suddenly, you’re no longer under the el.

There’s a clatter off to your left, and the ding of a bell. Distantly, you hear someone ask “You want some more coffee, hun?” The surface under you is soft, but not so soft to be mistaken for comfortable. Yoongi sits across from you, a smug smirk on his lips.

A diner. You’re in a diner. It’s fairly busy, too, and for a moment, you’re worried that someone noticed the two of you just appearing out of nowhere in a booth. But shockingly, no one is even looking in your direction.

“How…?”

Yoongi shrugs. “People see what they want.”

“Oh… okay.” 

You settle into the vinyl seating, resting your hands against the table. The formica surface is sticky and you recoil in disgust. Yoongi watches you, his cat-like eyes following your movements with curiosity. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the clinking of dishes and the noises from the kitchen. 

A waitress flutters back and forth between the tables and the stools at the counter, taking orders and pouring coffee. She either hasn’t noticed you’re there or she doesn’t see you at all. Quite frankly, neither would shock you. Another order appears in the window with a ding and the waitress spins to place the plate in front of a man at the counter. 

After a second, she approaches your table to take your order. You aren’t particularly hungry, but Yoongi orders a plate of fries and a slice of cake to share. She pours Yoongi a cup of coffee and promises to return with a glass of water for you and then she’s gone.

“So.” Yoongi clears his throat and leans on his hand. He studies you curiously. His voice is soft when he next speaks. “I really do need to know what he did to you, kid.”

You sigh. It wasn’t surprising, but that didn’t make it any less difficult to talk about. Your fiance had been terrific at first. Loving. Loyal. Kind. You’d known him since college, had seen him go from gangly, awkward first-year to second in his class in one of the country’s most prestigious law schools. You’d watched him graduate, had been there when he was named partner, celebrated every raise and promotion as he climbed the ladder. But slowly, over time, he’d changed.

“He used to be lovely,” you admit softly, dragging a finger through the condensation on the glass of water the waitress sat in front of you. “But somewhere along the way, he changed. Or maybe he was always like this and I didn’t notice. I don’t know.”

“Sometimes people hide who they are.”

“After a while, I realized that I wasn’t myself anymore. There was nothing about me at that point that didn’t revolve around him. I hadn’t seen my friends in over a year. I was completely dependent on him financially. He’d gotten me a job at his firm, we lived in a nice apartment near the river. But I didn’t want to only be Song Dawoon’s wife for the rest of my life. And when I left, I…” You shrug, hands falling into your lap. “Well, he showed me, I guess.”

“He took it all away?”

You nod. “My whole life, gone in less than 24 hours.”

“Your friends?”

“Turns out he’d been feeding them lies.”

Yoongi hums deeply and frowns. And when the waitress returns at that precise moment with a plate of fries, he jumps slightly at the clatter. When she’s gone, he leans closer, no longer resting on his hand. He picks up a fry and inspects it briefly before popping it into his mouth. He makes a face, though you can’t necessarily tell why. You consider for the first time that maybe he’d never eaten before.

Gently, he pushes the plate toward you. “Eat,” he coaxes softly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. But now that I know, I can change tactics.” He sighs, his eyes falling to the plate as he traces the edge. “I’ll make sure he gets what’s deserved.”

Things go silent. Yoongi coaxes you to eat again, but other than that, the sounds of the diner take over. Slowly, the fries disappear. You try not to watch him–or, at least, you try not to be too obvious about watching him. He’s warmed up in the diner, his full cheeks no longer bright pink and windbitten, but you worry about when you leave. 

What happens then?

Does he have somewhere to go to get out of the cold? Does he stay in a tent in the encampment under the el? Does he go to a shelter? Or does he huddle by the trash can fire through the night? His clothes are so thin, there’s no way they protect him from the cold. Does he even get cold?  

You barely notice when the waitress comes to take away the plate and replace it with another, this one topped with a slice of cake large enough for two. Again, Yoongi nudges the plate in your direction, but you let him have the first bite. He practically melts when his lips close around his fork, and suddenly you’re struck with a thought. 

You would like to know more about him.

It’s weird, and a little random. But you want to know more about what he likes and what he doesn’t. You’re curious about his past, though you aren’t sure you’d ever be brave enough to ask. But he’s fascinating, you’re fascinated by him, and so you smile gently at him when you stab into your side of the cake. He returns it warmly, and it reflects in his eyes.

The days pass quickly, and soon enough, it’s almost a week later. For reasons you can’t quite figure out, you’ve seen Yoongi for the majority of the days after your impromptu trip to the diner. Or, perhaps seen isn’t the right word. Anyone else, you would say you’d been hanging out with them. But with Yoongi, that didn’t seem quite right.

He’d shown up at the bar. You’d assumed that he wanted to tell you about his most recent attempts at bringing enough justice to Dawoon to rattle his teeth. But he sat down at the corner of the bar and watched you curiously while you served the customers that were there before him. When you finally made your way toward him, he shot you a warm smile.

You’d only spoken a few words to him when it became abundantly clear that you were the only one that could see him. Your coworkers eyed you warily, and the other patrons sitting at the bar were looking at you like you were the drunk one. You whispered a soft “Stick around. I’m closing,” to him and promptly ignored him for the rest of the night.

Which is how you ended up here. With the bar’s sound system blasting late 90s pop while you pile dishes into the dishwasher. Yoongi perches on the countertop beside you, dark eyes watching you curiously as you place cups into the tray for washing.

“Is there a reason why I’m the only one who can see you?” you finally ask. It’d been bothering you all night, and now seems as good a time as any to ask.

He shrugs, and for a moment, you think he’s going to answer, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you hit start on the dishwasher and follows you back out to the bar. “You humans are… complicated,” he says cryptically, as if that’s supposed to answer your question.

You hum. Ain’t that the truth.

He stands behind you as you take stock, checking the bottles behind the bar to see what’s low. Gingerly, he picks up a bottle of bar brand rum and inspects the label. “Why do humans drink this?” he asks, voice quiet.

It’s your turn to shrug. “Celebration. Relaxation. Happiness. Sadness. For fun. To forget.”

“That’s a lot of contradictions.”

“Humans are complicated.”

He grunts and falls silent, putting the rum back behind the bar.

It’s a day later, and Yoongi is following you around once again. It’s weird how comfortable it is. He’s in your apartment, beside you in the kitchen. You’d been right in the diner–he hadn’t tried many human foods. He didn’t really need to eat. But he had a sweet tooth, and that was the extent of his experimentation.

Mercifully, it’s your day off, and you’ve taken the time to expose Yoongi to breakfast foods–waffles, you argue, are among humankind’s greatest creations. You had set him to task cutting up melon, and truthfully, you’re a little worried he’s going to cut his finger off. But it turns out that he’s a natural with a knife, and you aren’t sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But he chats with you while he cuts into the juicy green flesh, the thwack, thwack, thwack of the knife a nice rhythmic background to the conversation.

“It’s why the trains are always late,” he explains, his voice quiet, but sage. Somehow–you weren’t entirely sure how–he’d gotten on the topic of rail infrastructure. You hadn’t exactly been able to follow his logic, but his voice is nice, the slight gravel to it is soothing, and you think that maybe, you could listen to him talk for hours about nothing. Which is a strange thought because a month ago, you hadn’t even known his name.

The waffle maker beeps, and when you open it, the steam swirls out from a perfectly golden brown waffle. You pour more batter in and shut and lock the plates.

“Why do they call you Goat?” you ask quietly. It’s sudden, and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. It’s quiet, save for the sounds of Yoongi’s knife and the every-so-often ding! of the waffle maker. Suddenly, you’re struck with the idea that maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me.” You can feel yourself clamming up. “I was just curious. That’s all.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay, kid.” He waves you off with a sigh. “Those snakes will do anything to humiliate me. I’m a joke to them.” Yoongi shrugs, his lips flattening into a line. “Goat. Not good enough for the guys up top. Not bad enough for the ones down below.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You hadn’t considered that maybe the nickname was mean. “I didn’t know they were making fun of you.”

“How could you?” He shrugs, pushing the sliced melon onto a plate. “They’re assholes, not worthy of my time.”

“Still–I’m sorry you have to go through it. It’s not fair to you.”

The waffle maker beeps again and you pull the last fluffy piece from the plates before unplugging it. You hand Yoongi the syrup and push the slightly cooled waffle in his direction. Warily, he pours some syrup and tears a piece off the waffle. He eats, humming lowly after a second and nodding his head.

“It’s good,” he confirms, flashing you a smile and licking some syrup off his thumb.

You feel yourself stand a little straighter, a small smile spreading across your face. He dives back in, tearing off another piece of waffle.

“Oh!” He finishes chewing before continuing. “I have some updates if you want them?” 

“Oh, uh, sure.”

“I took what you said, and I gave it some thought. So first of all, he’s now only telling his friends and coworkers the truth. Which is fun. His secretary already wants to kill him.” You nod, no longer interested in your own meal. “And I’m working on slowly rearranging his files. Not the public ones. I’m not trying to get a paralegal fired. But his files and notes. Choi, Park, and Park are very annoyed with him.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.”

“You don’t seem too happy, kid.”

“It’s just…” You sigh. It’s weird. You’re happy that Dawoon is getting what he deserves. So why do you have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach? You shrug. It doesn’t matter. “Humans are complicated.”

You sigh and flop down onto your couch, throwing your phone down beside you. It’s been nearly a week, and you haven’t heard a single peep from Yoongi. You feel a little dumb for how it’s affecting you, but how else are you supposed to feel? He’d spent three weeks practically glued to your side, visiting you at the bar, following you around the city while you ran errands. You’d introduced him to some of your favorite foods. It’s stupid–after everything, you still only barely knew him–but you considered him a friend.

But now, for the second time in as many years, you find yourself alone and frustrated and feeling like the world’s biggest fool. Yoongi doesn’t have the capacity to hurt you as deeply as Dawoon’s betrayal had, but that doesn't mean that it doesn’t sting.

You’d met Dawoon during your first-year orientation in college. He was assigned to your group for the weekend. He’d been squirrely and awkward, and had followed you like a puppy around campus during the tour and all the first-year activities. But by the time classes started that Monday, you were fond of him. By the end of your first year, you were dating. By the end of his first year of law school, you’d moved in together.

He had been your best friend. He’d brought you coffee for every late night study session. He’d held you while you cried when the stress of your senior thesis got to be too much. He’d helped you relax during spring break the year you managed to burn yourself out so much that you considered dropping out. Dawoon had been there for every up and every down, and you’d loved him for it. 

You aren’t sure when things started to change. Only that, at some point into your nine-year relationship, they had. You woke up one morning, completely alone, and realized that you weren’t happy. It had been a long time since Dawoon had told you he loved you, and an even longer time since you’d felt like more than just arm candy. When you’d brought it up to him–that you felt like you weren’t an equal participant in the relationship, that you felt like he mattered more than you did–he’d gotten angry. So angry, that he’d almost hit you. So you’d left. Broke off the engagement, packed your bags, and left.

24 hours later, your life was gone, burnt down around you. Your boss, your friends, all tricked by Dawoon’s lies. That was almost a year and a half ago. 

You were finally starting to feel like a person again, and Yoongi was a big part of it. And now, he’s gone, too.

At the beginning of the week, you’d been surprised–sad, even–that Yoongi hadn’t popped up sometime throughout the day. But you’d gone to bed that night content in the assumption that perhaps he was busy with your favor or someone else’s, and that the next day, you would see his lopsided smile as he floated into the bar during your shift.

But no such luck. A day passes, and you go from surprised to worried. Where could he possibly be? You hope that he isn’t frozen somewhere, never to be seen again.

Three more days pass, and you find yourself getting angrier–both at Yoongi and yourself. Why hasn’t he even tried to contact you? What could he possibly be doing that he couldn’t answer a single one of your texts? Or one of your calls? Or even just float by the bar when you’re working to let you know he’s alive?

Why hadn’t you offered to buy him a new coat? You knew his was in tatters. You knew the nights were getting colder. You could have offered your couch.

That anger festered, and now you’re pissed. At Yoongi. At yourself. At the world. Thankfully, you don’t have to completely start over again, but there’s something just as crushing about finding yourself alone again. It’s not productive, your anger, so you channel it into something more positive.

You clean. The whole apartment. Top to bottom. Starting with your bedroom and working through the bathroom and the kitchen. You blast the punk music from your early teen years on your phone and set about the living room, dusting your bookshelves and reorganizing the contents. 

You’re almost ready to get out the mop and bucket when you hear a ‘thud’ against your door. Just one, and not very loud. You’ve almost decided to ignore it–it’s late, and your apartment is between enough bars that drunks falling into your door is not uncommon–when the soft knock comes, slow but deliberate. It persists, despite your efforts to get back to your cleaning, and finally, you can’t take it any more.

You march to the door, throwing it open violently. “What?” you snap before even getting a look at the knocker.

The person falls forward, and you catch them easily, grunting under the dead weight of their body. Through slashes in the man’s jacket, you can see what you think is blood–golden and viscous against lightly tanned skin–sticking what’s left of a sweater to a bruised and battered body. You hold him carefully, pushing black hair away from his face. Something inside of you knows already, but you need to be sure. 

“Yoongi?” Your heart sinks. “What happened? Where have you been?”

He splutters a bit and sags in your arms. You struggle to maneuver him further into your apartment, shutting the door behind you. “Snakes,” he manages, wincing as you nudge his arm around your shoulders. 

You frown, helping him slowly hobble out of your doorway and into the living room. Your goal is the bedroom, if you can make it. He would probably be better off on the bed if you can get him there. Snakes. They told you they were his friends. He’d warned you about them. Said they’d kill him if they ever got the chance. You suppose he was right.

Together, you limp halfway through the living room before Yoongi groans. “Gotta lay down, kid.”

“The bed’ll be more comfortable.” He grunts, and you can tell he won’t be able to make it that far. “Couch, then?”

He stumbles, and you almost lose your grip on him, but you manage to keep him upright. “Floor. Please.”

Gently, you ease him to the floor, pushing your ottoman out of the way so he doesn’t have to curl up. You pull the pillows off the couch, kneeling down to lift his head and slip one under so he’s comfortable.

“Do you need a blanket?” you ask softly, rushing out of the room. 

He grunts out a ‘no,’ but you grab him one anyway, and a glass of water–though if you’re honest, you have no idea how he’s going to drink it laying face-down on the floor, but it seems right–and then a straw because that makes more sense and rush back. You sit beside him on the floor and place your collection around you so you can reach any of it should he need.

You reach out, hesitating just slightly before your hand touches his hair. You don’t want to hurt him. But then he groans and curls slightly in on himself from the pain, and you think that maybe you can’t hurt him any more than he already is. So gently, ever so gently, you lower your hand into the inky blackness of his hair. It’s wet from sweat and sticky from blood–there’s a gash on his temple that his long hair can’t help but get stuck in–but you smooth it down anyway, away from his face.

You stand and return moments later with a bowl full of lukewarm water and a rag. “They really kicked the shit out of you, huh?” you ask softly, wringing out the rag and dabbing it against the cut on his temple. Yoongi hisses in pain and recoils. “I know, I’m sorry,” you murmur, using your other hand to smooth his hair down. “Who are they?”

“Demons,” he groans, dark eyes barely opening to look at you. “I was doing a job over by the harbor on Wednesday and they jumped me.”

“Wednesday?” you exclaim, washing out the rag and wringing it again. You move to his left shoulder, where three terribly bruised scratches run from his clavicle across his shoulder blade and down his black. “Yoongi, that was three days ago.”

He flinches when the rag hits his skin and you apologize softly. His sweater and coat fall apart in your fingers as you try to clean his wounds. You finish cleaning his back, wiping the dirt and blood and grime out of the scratches. You can see where they’re already starting to heal, where they’re already scabbing over and the flesh is growing back. You imagine that, among the other special abilities he has, he heals faster than a human. Which is good for him, because you weren’t kidding. He looks like shit.

“You good?” You stroke his hair again, pushing it back away from his eyes. 

He nods ever so slightly, deep brown eyes meeting yours briefly before he winces in pain. “I’ll be okay.”

“Not gonna die?”

Yoongi scoffs, then lets out a low groan. “Looking to get rid of me, kid?”

“Never.” You fluff his hair and stand. “I’ll be right back. Yell if you need me.”

He calls your name before you’re even out of the room and you turn to him. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

He gestures vaguely, barely lifting his arm from the floor, but you get the idea. For taking him in. For taking care of him. For making him feel like a person.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, and pat the door frame. You disappear into your bedroom before he can say anything else.

You throw open your closet, flicking through the hangers, searching for one in particular. Somewhere in here’s an old sweater, one of the only things you managed to take with you after Dawoon, stuffed into your suitcase. It’s cream colored, you remember, chunky knit. You haven’t seen the sweater in over a year, but it’s got to be in here somewhere.

You tug it off the hanger in triumph just as a thud sounds in the living room. There’s a flapping noise, like a sheet shaken to remove the wrinkles. Confused, you slowly creep back out. There, lying precisely where you’d left him, is Yoongi. Except now, sprawled to either side of him is a pair of feathery black wings.

“Yoongi?” you question softly, stepping into the living room clutching the sweater to your chest.

His head turns away from you. “I couldn’t keep them in any longer. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I brought you a sweater. Your clothes are ruined.” He grunts. “If you’re feeling up to it, I can help you into it.” Your eyes widen. There was probably a less weird way to phrase that. “Because of your shoulder. It’s kind of really fucked up.”

He snorts, a light laugh leaving his lips, and then winces. “Thanks.”

You sink to the floor beside him, hand finding his hair once again. “Are you… you’re sure you’re going to be okay?” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi nods, and with a groan, rolls onto his side. He’s facing you now, one wing draped over his body and partially in your lap. “Don’t worry too much about me, kid. I’ve been through worse.”

Something about that breaks your heart. Maybe because you can tell. It’s the tone of his voice, but also it’s how mangled and damaged his wings are, and how you could see scars on his back under the scratches from the demons. He’s seen much worse than this.

Your fingertips brush against his wing gently and the feathers twitch away. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He sounds tired, his voice husky and ragged. “No one’s ever touched them before.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh.” His brows furrow. “It’s okay. It didn’t hurt.”

Something about his tone gives you pause. Ever so gently, you run your fingers through the feathers of his wings. It’s purposeful this time, and he doesn’t flinch away. In fact, he practically purrs, a deep exhale leaving him.

You can tell that his wings used to be beautiful. Closer up, the feathers are a dark grey, and most of them are still glossy. It’s just that… there are patches where there are no feathers, and places where you can see the bony protrusions that make up the physical structure of the wing. Some of the feathers are bent and broken, some are crushed, the soft, downy tendrils clumped together.

But despite everything, the feathers are soft and delicate, and they run through your fingers like water. You trace a scar along the ridge of his wing, the tip of your finger dragging through the feathers slowly, and at first, he jumps a little bit, but he quickly relaxes.

“Hey Yoongi?” you ask softly, your focus on the feathers resting against your leg. He hums an acknowledgement. You can feel his eyes on the side of your head. His curiosity is back. He must be starting to feel better. “How’d you…” You sigh and gather some courage. “How’d you fall?”

“Ah.” 

“It’s just… you said that you weren’t good enough for them, right? But the demons clearly aren’t…”

“Not my biggest fans, no.”

“So, I just…”

When you finally look at him, you’re struck by how beautiful he is. Not just in a ‘you’re pretty’ way–which, admittedly, he’s that, too. But in a ‘you’re fascinating’ sort of way. Everything about him seems contradictory. His eyes–sharp, catlike, ever observant–sit above a soft button nose, round cheeks, pouty lips. His wings are so beautiful, yet so broken. Even his words, which were sharp when you first met him, are now much softer and friendlier. Sharp and soft. It suits him, somehow.

His dark eyes watch you watch him. And though his face says he’s irritated, his eyes glisten with mirth. He enjoys watching you fumble, apparently, and you recognize that you should be more annoyed by that, but truthfully, you’re happy that he’s feeling well enough to even entertain the thought of mischief. A small smile spreads across his lips, and you find yourself smiling back at him.

“Okay,” he grunts, shifting himself closer awkwardly.

“What are you–? Be careful!” you chide gently, confused by his actions. 

He finally seems to settle when he’s laying perpendicular to you. His head lands in your lap and you freeze, arms raised in surprise. Yoongi readjusts slightly to get more comfortable against your thigh. He stretches his wing out–the tips of his feathers brushing against the ceiling–and winces slightly with the movement.

When he’s settled in, he sighs. “I didn’t fall. I was pushed. They don’t really tolerate dissent. Even if you’re right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s really not that deep of a story, kid. Top brass and I had some disagreements, that’s all.”

“Such as?”

He hums. “Oh you know. Just some minor things.” He rolls slightly so he can look you in the face. “I have these radical ideas where I think people should be kind to everyone and that everyone is worthy of respect.”

You finally drop your hands, and they find the feathers on the ridge of his wing. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of such an extremist.”

“Yeah well.” He grunts, using his arm to push himself upright. He wobbles a little bit when he’s fully vertical, and you reach out a hand to hold him steady. “When the big guy said ‘Love thy neighbor’, he didn’t really leave room for exceptions.”

You hum, your hand falling from Yoongi’s arm when you’re satisfied that he won’t fall over. He stretches, wings folding behind his back with a surprising amount of grace. It strikes you in that moment that he didn’t need to come here, didn’t need you to stitch him up. He could do it all on his own, quicker than you could have ever taken care of him. The scratches on his shoulder are already healed over–they’re still pink and inflamed, sure, but they aren’t bleeding anymore. You wonder how long it took for his pain to go away. So then why…?

“Why’d you come here?” The question is out of your mouth before you can even register it’s a bad idea. 

“What?”

“I mean, I’m just a human. I haven’t done shit for you.”

“That’s not true.” His brow furrows. “You brought me a sweater.” He reaches forward to grab the forgotten top.

“That’s not a lot. You did most of the work.”

He shrugs the sweater on, the cream material falling loosely over his torso. Somehow, his wings poke out of the back just fine, even though there are no holes for them. You’re curious, but you also aren’t about to ask him about it. The sweater is big on him, oversized in that two-sizes-too-big sort of way. 

“It’s a lot to me,” he says quietly.

Was he always sitting this close? Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of his knee touching yours and how his fingers are barely brushing your own. Deep brown eyes meet yours, his attention flickering quickly downwards before dragging back up to your eyes, like it took a great effort. And then he’s leaning in. Or maybe you’re leaning in. Both of you? It doesn’t matter. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Can he hear it? He can probably hear it.

He’s millimeters from you, you can feel his breath fanning across your face. “Can I kiss you?” He asks it so softly, it’s barely audible, even from this distance. 

You don’t even think. You just nod.

His lips meet yours, and it’s like all of the air is sucked from your lungs. It’s quick–he breaks it far too soon–and you’re admittedly a little lightheaded. He doesn’t get far, though, before you’re pulling him closer again, hand cradling his jaw. His lips are slightly chapped, and he moves gently against you. Not too fast, not too forceful. It’s almost as if he’s hesitant. But then he adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls you ever so slightly closer.

When you finally pull apart, your face feels warm. Yoongi’s looking at you, dark eyes swimming with some emotion that you can’t really place. But it’s gooey and soft, and the warmth spreads from your face to your whole body. No one had looked at you like that since… well, since Dawoon, and really, it had been a long time for even that. Yoongi offers you a small smile, and you return it, suddenly very nervous. He stretches his legs out in front of him, hand brushing yours once again.

What in the world are you supposed to do now? You didn’t think you were so far over Dawoon’s betrayal that you were ready to kiss… anyone, let alone Yoongi.

“You uh…” You cough, feeling very awkward, and fumble for the right thing to say. “You want to watch a movie?”

When you wake up, you aren’t sure what time it is. It’s weird. You remember the movie–an old Scooby Doo made-for-tv special from your childhood–and sitting beside Yoongi on the floor. You remember the shuffle of his wings as he got comfortable–the couch apparently too rigid for the sensitive appendages. You remember how he tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, but the shaking of his shoulders gave it away.

What you don’t remember is falling asleep.

But it’s now morning, early light streaming through the windows. The tv is off, and there’s a blanket thrown over your shoulders. Your apartment is so quiet you can hear the foot traffic on the sidewalk outside. Where’s Yoongi? You push yourself up off the floor, squinting as you look around. You check your bedroom, and the kitchen, and the bathroom, and he’s nowhere. He’s just… gone.

You sigh and collapse onto the couch, heart and stomach somewhere in your ankles. You feel sick. This is different from when you were angry and worried about him. Now, you’re just angry. 

How dare he? How dare he make you worry about him? How dare he show up on your doorstep without warning like that? How dare he make you care? 

How dare he kiss you like that and leave without a word?

Something stings behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut, letting your head fall to hit the back of the couch. How could you be so stupid? After Dawoon, you’d promised yourself that you wouldn’t let yourself get invested like that again. It only led to this. Sitting alone, a mysterious stinging in your eyes, wondering what you did wrong.

You grit your teeth and give yourself another ten seconds to wallow in self-pity. And then you stand. You promised a coworker you’d cover her lunch shift at the bar today. You can’t afford to miss it. Plus, you do better when you don’t have time to dwell on things.

Unfortunately, the bar is dead. You count the glassware at least a dozen times. You wipe down the bar more times than you can count. You wipe down every bottle in the well and on display, double-check the kegs, restock the bottled beer in the fridge. A few hours into the shift and you’re faced with the fact that it’s not as good a distraction as you had hoped. Thankfully, there are at least a couple patrons, and since there are no servers staffed for the lunch shift, you’re forced to take care of them. 

You’re grateful for the customers, grateful for something to do, for the outlet. But then the door opens, and you throw a quick “Sit anywhere! I’ll be with you in a sec!” over your shoulder as you pop into the kitchen to grab one of the table’s appetizers. When you emerge, you nearly drop the nachos you’re carrying.

At a table in the corner sits a face you’d rather forget. He’s tall, and handsome–a far cry from the spindly first-year you’d met a decade ago. His black hair is a little shaggy, perfectly styled to be out of his face. He wears a suit, no doubt it cost him more than your entire month’s pay, tips included.

Song Dawoon.

You steel yourself, take a second to plaster the customer service smile back on your face, and step out onto the floor. You drop the nachos off at the correct table without spilling a single chip, despite the fact that your hands are shaking like you’re experiencing your own personal earthquake. You promise to refill the man’s Jack and Coke, and then you take a breath and step toward Dawoon’s table.

“What can I get you?” you ask through your best plastered-on smile.

Dawoon looks up at you, a sickly sweet grin on his face. “How have you been? I didn’t know you worked here!”

Sure he didn’t.

“Sit down,” he suggests, kicking out the chair across from him. 

“No thanks.”

“Sit. Let’s talk.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for questions.

Cautiously, you sit. Your leg starts to bounce. Between the anger from this morning and your nerves now, you’re dizzy and nauseated. It’s a big city. You’d hoped that you’d never have the displeasure of seeing Dawoon again.

“The funniest thing has happened to me,” he says, leaning forward, his fingers steepled. “I’ve been having the worst luck lately. My keys disappear. My clocks are all broken. My files are disappearing. And you’ll never believe this, but all of my clients keep forgetting my name.” He hums and shakes his head. “It’s strange. Almost supernatural. Like if someone hired a vengeful spirit. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

You shrug. “Not at all.”

“See, that’s the thing. I think maybe you do.” He beckons you closer, but you don’t move. His voice is dark. You’d only ever heard him like this once before.

The day he swung at you.

“I think,” he continues, voice low, “you know a lot about it. I’m not quite sure how, but if I figure out how you’re ruining my career, you’ll have to pick up the pieces three states over.”

“You know, that’s really rich coming from you.” You stand, the chair scraping from behind you. You take a deep breath. “I think you should leave now.”

It takes everything in you to walk away with your head held high. Your legs are shaking by the time you get back behind the bar, and as soon as you’re safe in the kitchen, you sink to the floor. The cook eyes you warily but says nothing, simply hands you a glass of water and goes back behind the prep station. 

The room is spinning. Your chest is tight. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re afraid it’ll pop out of your chest and flop around on the floor like a fish. The door to the kitchen swings open and shut, open and shut, a dull throb that barely registers somewhere in the back of your mind. Your hands shake as you take a sip of the water. Someone pats your shoulder as they pass by.

It takes ten minutes for you to breathe normally again, and another five for your blood pressure to return to that of an alive human being. You stand, give the kitchen staff a nervous nod in thanks, and sneak back out into the bar. By now, Amy–the other bartender–has clocked in. A quick glance around the room eases your nerves. Dawoon is gone. The other patrons are still there, but Dawoon is no longer sitting in the corner. 

You lean against the bar and sigh. And then you pull yourself together and finish your shift.

By the time you get home, you’re exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. You’re drained. You want nothing more than to sleep for a week, take a hot bath, and drink an entire bottle of red wine. And not necessarily in that order. You collapse onto the couch, television remote in hand. Despite your exhaustion, you’re still wired. 

In the glow of your tv’s home screen, you see something glossy on the floor at your feet and reach down to pick it up. Something soft brushes your fingertips, and when you finally grab it and inspect it, you’re face-to-face to a single dark grey feather.

Your head falls, hitting the plush back of the couch. You feel your eyes start to sting again. It’s all too much.

A noise to your left startles you–the sound of a blanket being shaken to get the wrinkles out. You squeeze your eyes shut briefly. Of course the universe is forcing you to do this now. 

When he says your name, it’s barely a whisper–deep, gravelly, it matches the early hour. Stubbornly, you ignore him, your eyes squeezed shut. Maybe, if you don’t acknowledge him, he’ll go away. But then you hear him step closer, and you’re jumping to your feet.

“What are you doing here?” you question him sharply.

“I wanted to check on you, I-”

“Why?”

“Song Dawoon, he’s-” Yoongi frowns. “You’re upset.” He takes a step forward. “Why are you upset?”

You scoff. “Don’t talk to me about him.”

He looks confused, dark eyes clouding over with questions. And for a moment, your heart flutters. But then a part of you–the angry part–reminds you that you’d woken up this morning alone. And an even larger part of you reminds you that Dawoon knows somehow, and you grit your teeth.

“You left me alone.” Your eyes sting again, and you try to blink it away. Now is not the time. “You left me alone and I had to deal with him by myself.”

Something akin to worry crosses Yoongi’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter!” You’re exasperated, and you can feel your heart rate increasing–you try to take deep breaths despite the fact that your lungs feel like they’re being squeezed. “Don’t you get it? He ruined my life because we weren’t in love any more. He took it personally that I wouldn’t stick around and enjoy our perfect, abusive relationship. He told my boss I was selling information to a rival firm and got me fired. He told my friends that I talked shit behind their backs and made them hate me. He took away my entire support system and kicked me out on my ass and he’s still coming after me.” You take a shaky breath and force yourself to stare Yoongi down. 

“I didn’t know. You didn’t say-”

“Of course I didn’t! Why would I want to relive the worst months of my life? God, I…” You throw up your hands and turn away. “How useless are you? I thought you were supposed to be able to sense this stuff? Maybe not the specifics, but at least the severity, or… or something!”

“I-”  

It’s all too much. Yoongi standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. Him leaving, Dawoon’s threats. You can’t take it anymore. 

“You need to…” You take a deep breath, force your voice to steady, blink away the stinging. “Thank you for your help, but unfortunately, I don’t think this will work.”

“What-”

You hold up a hand, cutting him off. “I won’t be needing your help anymore. You can go.”

“But I…” Yoongi’s brow furrows, and you watch as he deflates. His shoulders sag, and something changes in how he stands there. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there not to understand? I don’t need your help anymore. We never have to see each other again.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Go.”

He nods, black hair falling in front of his face. His eyes are downcast, but you think you see a shine in them that wasn’t there before. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before speaking again. “Okay.” His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Okay. Well… I guess this is it then.”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

He’s gone in a flap of invisible wings, and suddenly, it’s dead quiet in your apartment. You stand there for a moment, silent, unsure what to do next. And then something in you breaks, and you sink to the floor in front of your ottoman. Tears well in your eyes, and it’s barely a second before you’re sobbing into your hands. 

He was still wearing your sweater.

Fallen Masterlist | Next Part

thank you for reading. I have no idea when part two will be out--I don't normally do this, but I couldn't wait to get part one out, so I'm still working on the rest. I'd love to hear what you thought about this part! it might even inspire me to finish the fic!

Check Out my Masterlist

[hongjoongscafe]

3+1=?

Chapter: 02 {Serieslist}

|In the 3+1= daycare|

Pairing: widower!yoongixwidower!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, single parent AU.

Summary: life has been cruel to them. Heartbroken and sad when they stumbled towards each other. Will they be able to heal their heart?

Warnings: mention of death, anxiety, smoking, hinting of smut but there is non.

Word count: 2.2k+

Masterpost

*DO NOT REPOST, PLZ*

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

You groaned as the alarm clock blared near your ear. You needed much more sleep than this. Therapy always made you tired and not to forget the twins who were nice but still made you tired enough to pray for a good night’s sleep.

You groaned again as you sat up, your back cracking on the way. Sighing, you got out of the covers and hung your legs down. The soft carpet felt nice under your feet. “I feel so old,” you whined.

The apartment was quiet, indicating that your babies were still asleep. The twins needed to be dropped off at the daycare. It was Saturday but you had some extra work to be taken care of.

You scratched your head as you walked towards their room. Opening the door, you could hear the soft snores of Geon-Wu. Mi-Cha, on the other side, was sitting on her bed with a Moana blanket wrapped around her.

“Good morning, momma,” her groggy voice was cute.

“Hey, princess. I thought you were asleep,” you picked her up when she raised her arms.

“I just woke up,” she yawned.

“Wanna wake up your brother?”

“GEON-WU!” That was all needed to wake him up.

Geon-Wu whined and rubbed his eyes, “you evil,” he whispered.

You quickly got them in the bathroom where you all brushed and then ushered Geon-Wu out so you could get Mi-Cha ready. Then you dressed Geon-Wu.

Rushing towards the kitchen, you prepared breakfast for the kids while they packed their bags for the daycare. The twins didn't go to daycare often since Jungkook worked from home. And would usually take care of them, happily.

He was a singer. Multitalented. He wrote, composed, produced, and did everything on his own at the studio he built in his home so that he could save money. The videography was done by another one of your friends, Namjoon.

Today he was not available. It was the filming of his new single track. Having kids there would be vexation. Not that they were crazy but could be a handful sometimes.

“Now, be good and let me get ready, oky? Eat your breakfast slowly,” you instructed and head straight to the bathroom.

Every day felt like a trial. It's hard to have twins and grow them on your own, you understood a year ago. It felt like a century. You stood under the warm shower, soaking yourself in the memories of your late husband. He was needed. He was a must. You are in love with him. Everything felt chaotic without him.

You missed how he loved you. The way his hands would glide across your body. His scent. His embrace. His comforting words. His giggles. His love for the kids. Everything…

“Mommy!?” a tired sigh left your lips. It has been a year since you got a chance for a peaceful shower or any time to get ready.

“Coming!”

Quickly washing up, you stepped out of the shower and looked at the time on your phone, you smiled. There was some time for a little make-up.

Dressing up, you went outside to see what was happening. “What are you kids up to?”

“Mommy, Geon-Wu spilt maple syrup on himself.”

There goes the time for make-up.

…

“Remember kids, no craziness. It ain't your home where you can be crazy monkeys, okay?” The kids were sitting in the back seat, listening to you carefully and nodding along. “Good. I don't want any complaints.”

Helping the twins out of the car, you opened the door of the daycare. The nice cold air hit your face. You went inside but froze.

There was the man from yesterday, looking at you with a confused frown. His eyes moved from you to your kids who also recognized the phantom-like man.

“Mommy, the ghost,” Mi-Cha whispered.

You cleared your throat and awkwardly waited for someone to come out and take your kids.

“Dropping off your kids?” his thick voice startled you.

Your head snapped in his way, eyes wide open. “Huh? Y-yeah.” you mentally face-palmed.

“Alright,” he got behind the counter and asked for the important information.

“Y-you are an employee here?” you asked.

“Asking the owner if he is an employee?” he grumbled.

Your eyes widened and gawked at the grumpy man. He looked like anything but the owner of a daycare. His hard demeanour was not exactly sitting well with the kids.

The man sighed, understanding your face, “I'm Yoongi. And don't worry about the kids. I see you have visited here before. There are two entries. They are safe.”

“Ah… Yeah.” he was right. You heard about this place three months ago from one of the twins’ classmate’s mother. This place opened five months ago and had a great reputation. They took care of the kids the best. They taught them many things and were disciplined.

You hugged and kissed the head of the twins, “no complaints, okay?”

“Oky.” They smiled and followed the phantom man hesitantly.

…

“I swear he looked so good anti-children yesterday!” you ranted and whined.

“You are thinking too much. See you are already getting wrinkles,” Jin, your co-worker, pointed out, “stay away from me, momma. Ain't nobody wants those.”

“Jin, they are wrinkled, not some air-borne disease that you might catch,” you sighed.

“Whatever. I still don't want my pretty face to get influenced,” he looked at himself in the tiny mirror he always carried. “But in all honesty, don't worry about it. My sister’s daughter goes there sometimes, remember?”

You hummed remembering the time he told you about that. “I'm a mother, Jin. All I am left with is my twins. If something happens to them… There is no reason for me to be alive.”

Jin patted your back, “we will get you free sooner, okay? So that you can go back to your kids.”

“Thanks.”

…

“When I first saw you, I thought that ‘she is out of my league’. But here we are, under the sheets, all warm and cozy,” Dae-Jung said while caressing your bare back.

“Hmm, yeah? You should be worshipping me more, then,” you bit his earlobe and got a satisfactory hum.

“I'll worship you like you deserve every day if you let me, angel,” he kissed your jaw.

“Who is stopping you?” you slid over his hips. “I'm right here, worship me as you say,” you whispered over his lips and captured them in a heated kiss.

The moans filled the room. Dad-Jung wanted to show you how you deserve all the love: mentally and physically, both.

“I'll love you till my last breath…”

Your hands were trembling, your forehead had a shining layer of sweat. Your eyes were spilling tears furiously.

The memories were devastating. They were once sweet but are now a bitter reminder that that won't ever happen again. It sucked the last sanity from you leaving you in this tiny cubicle of the office bathroom.

They were unexpected. It scared you. The twins caught you like this many times before and always questioned it. They were growing up seeing their mother breaking into pieces and their father not coming back.

It was a wrong influence. You needed to be better for them. But it's easier said than done.

Finally, when your body relaxed after a few, you left the washroom.

…

“Mommy! You are early!” Mi-Cha and Geon-Wu rushed towards you and hugged your crouched figure. “Let's go home!”

“Wait for a little bit, little ones.” you stood up and greeted the teacher there who was not the phan-- Yoongi guy.

After doing the formalities, you left.

The car drive was filled with kids screaming ‘baby shark’. You swear you would beat the hell out of the person who even thought about making this stupid irritating– was it a poem? Song? Oh, well, whatever it was, it sucked your brains out. But you had to keep it cool because kids love it. So anything for them.

“Mommy, that ghost man left early,” Geon-Wu said.

“I was so happy when he did,” Mi-Cha giggled.

“Ah, really? That's good, I guess,” internally you were jumping and screaming thanks for whatever reason he left for.

…

It was dark outside. Yoongi was sitting in the park. His heart felt heavy. There was a lot in mind. He felt like his last hope broke. The images, voices, and demons were lurking in and around him. He wanted an escape. An escape that led him to a peaceful life where he could leave his worries and demons behind and just hang in there.

Smoke wasn't his thing. But sometimes when the shit was too much to handle, he didn't mind getting high. He captured the cigarette between his teeth and covered his hand around it to light it. He puffed the smoke in the air and noticed all the patterns that it made in the dark.

The only comfort in his life was all those children he meant to take care of. But his cold persona always pushed them away. He didn't blame them. They weren't his own children… They were someone else's. With that in his mind, he let it slide and watched the kids from afar.

He wasn't that creepy guy who fantasized about kids, no, definitely not. He just… Liked children as a parent would do… A good parent.

“Hey, man. You sitting up here in the park by yourself like this, what happened?” Yoongie looked at his friend, Taehyung, who was looking at him with wide eyes and a mouth filled with chips.

“Nothing, just a lot of things,” Yoongie sighed.

Taehyung nodded, understanding, “don't throw yourself out like that, there is much more to life and you are still young… Things will fall back in place in no time,” he pulled his vaping pen out and vaped.

“Is it worth it, though? I feel like I am wasting everyone’s time and mine too,” he looked up at the sky. He couldn't see a single star, just the darkness like him.

“Man, it is worth it. I'm not saying that you will get a replacement but someone new who can understand you the deepest and hold onto you tightly,” Taehyung said.

“Anyway, how was your shoot?” Yoongie changed the subject.

“Ah, the best so far! The guy, Jungkook, damn! He is so fucking talented. It was so fun to work with him. I had to act like his brother from another mother and boy it felt real,” he praised. “I think you would like his company. He is a jolly man.”

“I don't know, Tae.”

“What!?” the younger one whined. “It's not like you are going on a date with a girl. We are planning on meeting for dinner or something, maybe you could join us too, it would be fun!”

Yoongie sighed, “I'll think about it. For now, let's go back. I have other jobs to handle and the daycare too. It's getting late.”

“Simply say that you want to drown yourself in the past in your bed,” Yoongie glared at him. “You took it seriously, man. I am sorry.”

…

“Pretty please,” Jungkook whined on the call.

“No, J. I don't want to. I have two monkeys to look after,” you said as you cleaned the kitchen.

“It's not like we are going out for long, you know? You haven't met new people in a while. You should come too. Taehyung is a funny man. I'm sure you will feel better,” Jungkook was pouting on the other side. “And it's not like it’s the date. We are just going to dinner with a new friend. He said he might bring another company along. I wanna bring you too. And kids can join us.”

You paused and thought about it. He was right, you haven't met any new people in a while. Dad-Jung loved to socialize so you also met many new people through him. Now it feels weird. But you need to go out and meet new people, make new friends.

“I'll sleep on it,” you sighed.

“Oh, you better wake up with this plan soaked up in your bones. Tell me what you think, okay? Then I will talk to him and fix the date for dinner. I'll get going, tell the kids that I love them and good night,” he yawned.

“Of course,” you looked around and sighed again.

Maybe this could help distract you for a while.

“Mommy?” Geon-Wu's sleepy voice shrugged you out of your thoughts. “Dada still not here?”

His simple question squeezed the life out of you. You didn't know how to break it up to them that their father won't ever come back. It's hard to see the twins like this, longing for their father's embrace. Nobody can ever replace that, no matter what.

“We should go to sleep, love,” you said and helped him get in bed. “Tomorrow is Sunday, we will be going to the big park, okay?”

He looked at you with shiny eyes, “really? You are the best momma ever!”

You chuckled and kissed his forehead. On the other bed, Mi-Cha was already sound asleep. You kissed her forehead and were about to go into your room when Geon-Wu said, “momma, don't ever leave us as Dada did.”

The tears brimmed your waterline. “I never will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

.....

Sanaa's note:

Hi, everyone. How are you all? I got some time on hand so I penned this chapter. I hope you like this 😊💓 I always appreciate your feedback!

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional

*lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist*

*original picture is not mine, I just edited them*

Have a nice day/night💓

[bteezxyewriter12]

Save Me/ Epilogue

Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader

Word count- 2.2k

Includes- Fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxmine

@yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana

@tannie13 @y00nzin0

@marsstarxhwa @borntowalkaway

@kjqueen05

Series Masterlist

2 years later

Yoongi POV

I anxiously stand at the front of the aisle, waiting for her

The ceremony started already

We decided to have our wedding in the park by the Han River, where we take Erik to play

The guys are standing beside me having already come down the aisle

Now Joanne's sister is coming down with Hobi

I can't wait to see Joanne

I know she's going to look gorgeous

She always does

My mom comes down with Erik and Nari

We planned to have our wedding a few months after Erik was born

Until we found out she was pregnant again

I mean I get it, after Erik was born we were all over each other

Once we found out, we decided to put it off until the new baby was born

Joanne is an amazing mother

She agreed to be a stay at home mom after a lot of asking and convincing

We agreed that when the kids start school she would go back to work

I loved watching her with Erik and now with Nari too

She's such a strong person, taking care of a baby while being pregnant again and dealing with my schedule

I try to be there as much as I can

I went back to BTS and we talked about my schedule

I'm a little bit less involved in BTS in terms of lyrics and music composing because she and my kids are my number one

I come home every night and take over baby duties so she can have a break

If I have to miss a performance or an award show, I do

Anything for my family

Nari was born six months ago so my mom is carrying her

She looks so adorable in the dress Joanne picked for her

She has a lot of hair for a baby and it's held back with a cute sparkly head band

Erik is walking next to my mom, holding her hand

He just turned two and he looks so handsome in his black suit

He smiles and waves at me when he sees me

I wave back as my mom brings them to their seats

I hold my breath because now she's coming out

Since she doesn't have her parents, she asked my dad to walk her down the aisle

I was stunned she wanted that and he cried when she asked him

I can't keep my eyes off the aisle

I see my dad walking and I move my eyes next to him

My eyes land on her and I can't handle it

I put my hand over my mouth as tears start to pour down my face

She's stunning

The dress, her hair, her makeup

Just her

My heart is pounding as she gets closer to me

I can't believe how lucky I am

I can't believe she's mine

I can't believe this beautiful girl wants me

And I'm so aware how lucky I am that she's even here to be walking towards me

She survived two attacks, two births and she's still standing strong

And I get to spend my entire life with her

I've performed in front of thousands of fans in places all over the world but this moment, watching her come towards me, is hands down, the best moment of my life

Nothing, no performance, not getting into BTS, no awards compares to this moment

I love the dress she's wearing

It's not something I'd thought she'd pick because I know her style but it's gorgeous on her

And it hides what we need to hide

We just found out last week that she's pregnant again

She's four months along, it's another boy and her belly is showing just a little

I was worried she'd be upset

We're having three kids in three years

It's a lot for anyone

But she just smiled at me and told me that she's so happy we're going to have another baby

I am too and I made sure she knew I'm happy

I don't want her to think I'm not

We decided to just keep the wedding on and I just paid extra to have her dressed fixed before today

We decided we're going to tell everyone today that she's pregnant again

I can't tear my gaze away from her

She's just so beautiful

She smiles so widely, looking at me with so much love

I move my hand down, smiling at her while I still cry

I just can't stop

I'm so happy, words can't explain it

She gets to me and my dad gives me her hand

She squeezes my hand immediately

"Hi jagi", I choke out

"Hi naekkeo", she answers, tears in her eyes

"Don't cry jagi", I whisper

She smiles, "I can't not cry Yoongi. I'm marrying the love of my life. And you look so handsome"

"No jagi, I'm nothing compared to you. You're so beautiful baby, I can't even describe it"

"I love you", she says

"I love you"

The priest starts but I can't stop looking at her

Joanne is catholic but she said she didn't care if we have a religious wedding

All she wanted was to marry me

Again but this time with our families

But I want her to have a catholic wedding

Her parents were religious and since they can't be here, I want her to have a wedding that would have made her parents happy

I'm not religious so it doesn't matter to me

I just want her to be happy and I will do anything to make her happy

The priest indicates to Joanne to start her vows

We both decided to write our own

She takes my hands, holding tightly

"My love, my Yoongi. I love you so much. More than words can describe. You're my best friend and I'm so lucky that my best friend is also the love of my life."

I look at my jagi, listening to her words and I can't stop crying

I've been crying the whole time

"You saved me countless times, Yoongi. And I don't mean just from dying"

Tears start falling down her face and her voice gets shaky

"You saved me from everything

You saved me from falling into a depression, you saved me from being scared of the outside world.

You saved me from myself and from the issues I had after the second attack. I know I was difficult and scared about everything but you stayed. You didn't give up, you didn't leave, you never stopped loving me. You did everything to help me"

I always will

Anything for her

"You showed me what love really is, how it should be, how it should feel. You've protected me and kept me safe and you continue to do it everyday. I could never repay you and "Thank you" doesn't cover it. Not by a long shot."

I break down, crying so much harder

She never has to thank me for anything

I love her more than my life and I will do anything and everything to keep her safe

"Yoongi, there are no words to describe how much you mean to me or how much I love you. You're the best man in the world and I'm so happy that I'm the one who gets to be with you. I'm so happy I'm the one you love", she tells me, crying as well, "Thank you for loving me, thank you for staying with me, thank you for giving me a beautiful son, daughter and our new baby. I promise I will love you forever."

I can't handle this

The emotions are too much

I have no clue how I'm going to say my vows to her if I can't stop crying like this

"I love you Yoongi", she finishes

I smile at her through the tears, my whole being so elated at hearing how much she loves me

Because I love her just as much

The priest tells me that I can start my vows whenever I'm ready

I take a second to calm down and wipe my eyes, hoping I can get through this without breaking down again

I can hear sniffs from the crowd and when I take a quick glance, I see everyone is crying

I turn back to her, taking her hand again

"Jjj...Joanne. I can't tell you how much I love you. Words aren't enough to tell you how much you mean to me. I knew it was you from when I was eight. There was just something about you when I saw you that made me want to talk to you, made me want to get to know you. And that was the best decision of my life. I didn't know what love was at eight but I did know what it was when I fell in love with you at fifteen. I knew, that one day, I would marry you."

She squeezes my hands, just smiling her gorgeous smile at me

"The day you told me you love me, was the happiest day of my life. Nothing compares to that. Not debuting, not any awards we've won, not any performance, nothing compares to that day"

I suck in a breath because the next part of my vows is hard to talk about

I cried while writing them

"Joanne, I...I don't deserve you", I sob, the tears already coming, "What you've done for me....You put me first, before your own life and that's something I can never repay you for. I never thought anyone could or would want to love me that much that they would give up their life to protect me"

I have to stop for a second

I can't

I never thought I'd ever find someone who would love me like that

But she does

She does and it amazes me everyday

"You are my hero, Joanne. My idol. My world. My everything. My heart. You are the strongest person I have ever known. You went through so much for me when you didn't have to. You gave me a beautiful son and daughter and now you're going to give me another beautiful baby. You're an amazing mother and the perfect wife", I tell her, hoping she knows how true it is

"I promise that I will do everything to make you happy every day of our lives. I promise to be worthy of your love. I promise to take care of you, keep you safe always and be there whenever you need me. I can be strong for you jagi so you don't have to be all the time. You can count on me for anything. Anytime you call, I will drop everything and run to your side. And I will be at your side even when you don't call. Always and forever."

She nods, smiling, tears running down her face

God, I didn't know our wedding would be a crying fest

"I love you more than life Joanne and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life loving you"

We're both crying hard and I'm pretty sure that everyone around us is crying too

She holds my hands tightly, "I love you"

I touch her face softly, "I love you"

--------------------------------------

J POV

I can't stop crying

Just listening to Yoongi tell me how much he loves me, how much he wants me for the rest of his life, makes me over the moon

When I was walking down the aisle towards him, I couldn't believe I was marrying him

He immediately started to cry once he saw me and I had to hold back from crying myself

He's so beautiful, so handsome in his suit, waiting for me

He's my everything, my better half

I'm so lucky to have him

The priest turns to me and asks me,

"Joanne, do you take Yoongi, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part."

I look into the eyes of my one, my life and I say, "I do"

The smile on his face is completely gorgeous and takes my breath away

The priest turns to Yoongi

"Yoongi, do you take Joanne, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part."

He looks at me and nods, "I do"

My heart swells in love and happiness

I know we're already married but I could marry Yoongi over and over and feel the same way as I did the first time we were married

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride"

Yoongi pulls me to him immediately, his lips on mine in a second

I throw my arms around his neck as he pulls me closer, kissing him back

I hear clapping and cheering but I just get lost in Yoongi and his kiss

I know we're meant to be together, I know we're soulmates

And I'm the lucky one who gets to love him forever

And I will

Him and I are forever

[kingofbodyrolls]

Aw, this was heartwrenching and beautiful 🥺 all those nightmares, readers mom.. Ugh 🥺 and then they can enter each other's dreams 😭 they have a special connection! I was not prepared to Yoongi's nightmare at the end 😭😭 and reader just giving up. Aish, it was really, really good 🌟

DreamCatcher

Words: 13k (oops) 

Genre: Fluff & Angst

Summary: When your dreams are more or less nightmares, monsters inside your head that eat you alive, it seems like the only person who can help you is Min Yoongi, professional dream chaser. 

The monsters are always there.

Ever since you were little, you’ve been chased by nightmares. The monsters that lived inside your head, distorted memories that were fixed to be outright horrifying. They fed on your fears and shoved them to you, like unwanted Christmas presents wrapped in pretty bows and ugly patterns. They evolved as you grew older and their persistence never stopped no matter how hard you tried to run, like a tail attached to you. When you blinked, eyelids closed and darkness flooding your vision, they’d come back. And even when you opened your eyes again, they were still there. They’re always there.

Keep reading

[littlemisshyperfixation]

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?

[kithtaehyung]

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

[seokjinsonlyone]

even more niche boyfriend things i think bts would do

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

namjoon:

not a newborn baby but is a big proponent of the kangaroo care concept; like loves to cuddle you while he’s shirtless; him on his back you laid on top of him, skin touching skin at every possible contact point; it does it for him every time

sends you pictures of animals he finds wandering around when he’s out and about 

takes soooo many pictures of you; don't get me wrong there's a fair share of couples photos like you're definitely taking selfies together whenever y'all go out but he takes twice as many off guard pictures of you as posed ones; definitely has a pic of you during golden hour forlornly looking out a window as his lockscreen

asks you to make him a playlist and listens to it whenever he misses you even if it's really disjointed and doesn't fit his mood simply bc you made it and he's always in the mood for you <333

learns to be more gentle around you so he becomes 5-7% less clumsy when you’re around

if you went to a party together i think there’d only be like one hour max where you’re separated from each other any more than that and y’all both start getting fidgety from missing each other bc if you’re in the same space you absolutely have to be together; when you do meet back up he tucks you up underneath his arm and kisses your temple and y’all are sickly cute for the rest of the night; like enough lovey dovey pda to make someone nauseous

always amazed at the amount of stuff you manage to bring out the house; like you'll come out after him and he sees you walking towards the car, arms stuffed to the brim with water bottles and lotions and umbrellas and whatever else you deemed necessary for the day's outings, so he has to rush to help you before you drop everything; eventually gets hip to the fact that you're a a girl and you're always gonna have bunch of things and starts pre-loading your belongings so you won't have to struggle

Oblivious Boyfriend™; as smart and emotionally intelligent and mindful as he is, he's not a mindreader; like he be so focused on his feelings for you, his passions, and his work that he lowkey don't know wtf going on outside of that; so if there's something going on around you or something wrong with you or you have a problem with him you're gonna have to spell it out lest he be none the wiser

doesn't like when you watch him work out because you're more of a distraction than anything but he does like going to you straight after working out; he gets a real kick out of the way you ogle him and feel up on his biceps while he's all pumped up 

he really likes when you call him cute nicknames; joon, joonie, joonie boonie, namu like it lowkey make his heart soar; his personal favorite is joon bug you call him that and he would literally steal the moon if you asked 

seokjin:

tests out all his new recipes on you; feeds you bites to taste along the way so you're not too hungry because he's a perfectionist and it takes him extra time for him to plate it; "the presentation is just as important as the taste!"

likes when you’re in the same room as him while he plays his games; not necessarily watching him but just your company is enough; switches between focusing on the game and engaging you in conversation so you won’t get bored; would actually love it if you did take an interest in whatever game he was playing; would take his time explaining the back story of each character and their strengths and weaknesses; would start a separate game so that you could play and have you sit between his legs while he helped you with the controls

has to kiss you at least 3 times before leaving the house; once when you wake up, once while you’re going through your morning routine, and once before you leave; more kisses may be shared but any less than three and he swears his whole day is thrown off

he’s going to pick at you; there’s just no way around it it’s in his nature; he won’t do it enough to make you actually annoyed but enough that you wanna smack him around a little; which… he likes things like that

has no problem singing and dancing whenever y'all are casually listening to music but if you actually wanted him to sing for you he'd get all shy, red in the ears and neck and would have to take a couple days to practice before following through

begs you to join him for tennis practice bc he wants you two to become the next venus and serena

y’all will do that one couples trend on tiktok where they paint each other and then reveal the pictures at the end and it’s not like yours is fantastic or anything but you can tell that you at least tried; meanwhile when you see seokjin’s painting you can’t tell if you’re looking at a distorted walrus or a possessed squirrel either way it is NOT you no matter how much he insists it looks like you

stays sending you thirst traps; like whenever he looks good whether it's bc he's all dolled up for some event or he's fresh out the shower with his hair slicked back or he just sees himself in a mirror and remembers he's worldwide handsome, his phone is out, he's putting a sultry look on his face, snapping a pic, and sending it straight to you

you binge watch animes together; no one will see or hear from either of y’all for like 5 days straight, complete radio silence; and when someone finally knocks on the door they see that y’all been camped out in the living room no phone in sight on season 6 of whatever anime y’all started last friday night  

must feed you every time you meet up; like if he has not seen you eat something in the time you spend together he has not completed his boyfriend duties; even if he comes to your place he has to make sure you have at least eaten a snack; doesn't matter how much you weigh he absolutely can not have you wasting away on his watch

yoongi:

gently tucks your hair behind your ear

always offers you his arm to link when it’s cold out so y’all can share each other’s warmth; he absolutely will still be wearing slides with no socks tho and you fuss at him about it every time

lets you play in his hair; just sits there nonchalantly while you give him the most ridiculous hair styles; pig tails, corn rows, mohawks; as long as you don’t cut nothing he doesn’t care fr; takes a picture when you’re done with that big gummy smile on full display bc of how silly he looks

says he's not a big social media person but one of his favorite past times is sitting down with you scrolling down your fyp for hours; makes you send the funniest videos to him so he can watch later

you’re one of the few people that he gains energy from being around so he likes your presence even when you’re not particularly doing anything; like you just be sitting next to each other or like be hand in hand on a walk around the neighborhood not even saying anything but in his head he’s thinking about what a great time he’s having 

if you're up late at night and start feeling peckish he'll make you some snacks even if he doesn't plan on eating; still scolds you about how eating late at night is bad as he's enabling you; ends up eating with you too

he doesn't like watching dramas with you; he'll claim it's bc of the plot but really he just doesn't like how you be kicking your feet and giggling at the male leads

not the best with verbal affirmations so whenever he does go out of his way to compliment you he ends up just as flustered as you are; “you look pretty today” and his cheeks are flushed more than yours 

always preps you to bargain and gathers together all coupons before y’all go grocery shopping; “just bc i’m rich doesn’t mean i like to be ripped off” 

he's always listening to you even when it seems like he's not; you could be rambling on about something and you think he's not paying attention so you stop midsentence and be like "are you even listening to what i'm saying?" and he looks up from whatever he was doing and then repeats back to you everything you said; has a great memory in general so he remembers everything you say and do even the small things that you forget about

hoseok:

sends ‘thinking of you’ texts just to let you know when you’re on his mind

if you start dancing to a song he gets all hyped up and he’s joining you immediately; hands on your hips moving you as he pleases; it’s a club wherever you and the music are

makes you one of his little beaded bracelets that says “ur my hope”

if you fell asleep in a position that looks uncomfortable he’d gently rearrange you until he got you in a more normal position; 100% the type to carry you bridal style to bed if you fell asleep for the night on the couch 

the type to pop up at your crib with an insane amount of the most exquisite, top tier take out and you gotta try to figure out who he think eating all this; doesn't even try to fight the boujee allegations when you tease him for bringing out caviar and truffles 

always takes pics of you when he thinks you look good; like you could be running late and you’re rushing trying to get out the door but hoseok is just gonna spend a good 30 seconds checking you out while you’re fussing at him and then be like wait a minute and starts posing you; has several organized folders of you because of this labeled by genre of your look; it’s easier that way so when he’s showing people pictures of you they won’t accidentally get a peek of something meant for his eyes only

loves the idea of you becoming his family so he really likes bringing you home; warms his heart to see you getting along with his parents and his sister; sets up a group chat with you him and his sister to help y'all talk more but lowkey gets pouty when y'all do get closer and be chatting and hanging out without him 💀

if you're not already together he'll facetime you in the morning; he won't have much to say at first other than a groggy good morning; but after he comes to terms with the fact that he has to be awake and takes a couple sips of his iced americano he's his usual ball of energy sunshiny self; will have you up doing morning stretches and light calisthenics at 6:30am

every couple weeks y'all go to the nail salon together and get mani-pedis; he leaves the acrylics and jewels and glitter to you but the overall color scheme and design aesthetic for your nails match; takes like 17 pictures of your hands together to show off

loves cuddling up to you on the couch so you can play in his hair; like each time his head is resting on your chest and your hand is running through his hair lightly scratching at his scalp he swears he’s reached nirvana 

jimin:

will drag you out the house in the middle of winter to drive down to the beach and watch the sunset together; you’d be huddled up together you sat in between his legs leaning against him his arms draped around your neck pulling you into him; you’d stay there sitting in the sand even after the night settled in just talking until you were shivering and sniffling then he’d take you to a cafe to get some hot cocoa to warm up 

randomly calls you in the middle of the night bc he misses your voice; smiles the entire he’s getting scolded for scaring you bc you thought something was wrong bc he called you at 2am

kisses your forehead, nose, and lips in that order every time you part ways 

hates knowing there's other people staring at you so like if you're out together and wearing like a hoodie or something and he notices you're garnering attention he zips it all the way up and pulls your hood over your head and tightens the strings so no one can see you; in turn knows you hate the thought that other people even think of him so he pretends they don't even exist; like you can literally point somebody out and be like "omg aren't they so pretty" and he's gonna avert his eyes in the opposite direction won't even look and just be like "you're so pretty. there's only you"

number one advocate for a lazy morning; snuggles into you, his head on your chest trapping you in; looks up at you with a goofy smile and preens when you press a kiss to his forehead

squishes your cheeks in both his hands when you're being too cute for him to handle

like the true feminist he is, he supports your rights and wrongs!!; like you get into it with somebody and then tell him the story afterwards he's hyping you up the entire time telling you that you were right and what you should've done and what he would've done if he were you; he's just always gonna be on your side

riles you up just bc he likes the reactions you make when you’re irritated 

it’s tea city when it comes to you two; like whatever you know he knows and whatever he knows you know; gossiping is actually one of your favorite bonding activities; he likes to play it up and drag it out whenever he finds something out; like he’s gonna text you and be like UR NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS!!!!! and you’ll be like WHAT and he’ll be like I HAVE TO TELL YOU IN PERSON OMG!!!! 😱 when it’s like noon knowing darn well he not getting off work until 10pm at the earliest 😭

likes to go with you when you have to “run errands” bc it’s usually just you doing girl things like getting coffee and then going to the store to buy snacks and skincare and he thinks it’s really adorable how you light up when you see small things in cute packages

taehyung:

has a series of like 12 hour logs in his phone recents list bc he stay falling asleep on facetime

makes it a point to hang out with your male friends just to assert dominance; doesn't matter if they have partners of their own or are completely uninterested in you he still wants to look them in their eye, shake their hand, and then put his arm around you to tie up any loose ends that may be dangling around

helps you pick the eyelashes out of your eye whenever one gets stuck

asks you to come over with the sole purpose of convincing you to take a nap with him; will straight up lie on the phone and tell you he wanna hang out and do this and that and then when you get over there he like let’s nap first; your cuddles just gon do it for him every time

uses kisses as bargaining chips; like if you need him to do something like idk take out the trash he's only gonna do it if you give him 3 kisses so you give him one as a down payment and the other 2 after he completes the task; (he was always gonna do what you asked but kisses make everything better)

likes to keep his hands free when he's out and about so he's always adding extra stuff to your purse; because he's always in your bag, he knows its exact content; you'll be frantically searching for your lip gloss and he'll ask what you're looking for and when you tell him he'll pull it out of some random side pocket he moved it to so he could make room for his stuff

will randomly wake up out of his sleep and call you just bc you crossed his mind; takes like 30 seconds to respond to anything you say bc he only half awake; the call lasts for like three minutes before he hangs up to go back to sleep 

as a big fan of roleplay at least once in your relationship he's gonna make y'all get all dressed up and go to a bar separately and act like strangers and he's gonna pretend to pick you up

if you sent him out to pick up period products last minute he’s the type that ask if you wanted lemon or lime flavor bc one package is yellow and the other is green 😭; alternatively would ask what’s your coochie size when he noticed the numbers on it

he’s not gonna let you win at any game you play; doesn’t matter how much you whine and pout he likes winning too much; god forbid you’re actually good at something he’s gonna try his very hardest and will even practice so that he eventually beats you; will give you all the prizes tho

jungkook:

if he gets bored while you’re asleep he’s gonna start messing with you; his favorite go to games are flicking your bottom lip until you tuck it in or start to gain consciousness and stacking cheerios on your forehead; his personal best is 9 of em 

hooks his chin over your shoulder to be nosy when you’re watching something on your phone that catches his attention

he understands that you’re not as nocturnal as he is but sometimes when you stay over at his place and he feels restless he can’t help but crave your attention; will wake you up at 4am gently with kisses so you can try some of the food he made; you’ll be half asleep with him kneeling in front of you feeding you some spicy noodles; he’ll patiently wait for you to finish chewing before he asks you if it’s good; makes you take at least one more bite before kissing your forehead and letting you go back to sleep; tucks himself up next to you about an hour later after he finishes cleaning up after himself 

you make funny tiktoks together; they never leave the drafts of course except for when he finds it particularly hilarious and sends it in the group chat 

threatens to beat up anyone who upsets you; like you tell him a story about someone who was upsetting you at work and his first response is "bring them to me. i'll take care of it"; and lord don't let someone get carried away at a club or something like if a guy starts hitting on you and won't take no for an answer before you can even tell them off he's already at the scene one shove away from being breaking news on every media outlet in the world

gets pouty when you have a night out without him but he understands the need for balance so doesn’t put up too much of a fight; his only stipulation is that if you can’t make it home on your own or your friends can’t drop you off that you always always call him; the thought of you getting into some randos car late at night when you’re not even mentally there all the way sends chills up his spine; he can’t sleep unless he knows you’re at home safe and sound anyway 

doesn't consciously have a preference for how you dress like he thinks you look good in whatever but you in a dress or a skirt itches a particular part of his id that would have carl jung doing backflips; like whenever you pop out in a dress or a skirt he's coming up to you and giving you a kiss on the lips while his arms wrap around your waist and 10-30 seconds later they're dropping down and his hands are toying with the ends of your garment and grazing your thighs underneath it; it just does it for him every time

you're his safe place <333; he goes through periods where you're the only person he wants to see; he will scare you half to death like you'll get off work and go home and you hear all this noise and whole time it's him in your kitchen making sandwiches for lunch; will make up for scaring you by tucking your face into his neck while his arms are wrapped tightly around you so he can breathe you in and then cupping your face and giving you kisses; you're his baby

you have matching hyperfixations; like one of you will get into something and won’t shut up about it and then being the supportive partner you are whenever you’re on social media you send the posts you stumble across to them; but then the algorithm picks up on it and the content keeps popping so often that you actually start being entertained by it too; then y’all won’t shut up about it and have inside jokes and no one ever knows what y’all are talking about bc it’s so deep down into the referential millennial dadaism

gets offended if you’re walking side by side and not touching in some way; like if you start walking ahead of him or something he’s gonna clear his throat very pointedly and when you look at him like ???? he’s gonna look at you like you’re stupid and pull you into him where you belong 

a/n: as promised she is back 🫡 thank you to everyone who encouraged me to repost 💕 pls continue to be kind my mental state is probably worse than it was before LOL

[kookslastbutton]

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

[yoongikapi]

May I please request a BTS headcanons? when they try to get close to their crush, like hug her, wrap their arms around her shoulder etc. their crush's niece/nephew (18 month old) won't let them. The baby is really possessive of their aunt and doesn't like anyone touching her.

this is such a cute idea!! tysm! <3

stay away from my aunt || ot7 || drabble

crack/ fluff

masterlist

namjoon

you thanked namjoon as he handed you the popcorn and reclaimed his spot on the couch next to yours. the two of you shared the snacks and laughed at the movie, or at least, you were. namjoon would laugh along when you did, but you didnt realize that his mind was somewhere else.

namjoon wiped his sweaty palms on his pants for the third time, and swallowed harshly every time he thought you realized how nervous he was. just go for it already he thought.

he reached an arm behind him and was about to rest it on your shoulder when he heard tiny footsteps bouncing down the stairs. your niece rounded the corner and you smiled at her as she headed for the popcorn, but instead saw a horrible sight. “what are you doing to my aunty?” she yelled at namjoon and you quickly looked his way. he hid his attempt by scratching the back of his head and shrugging. you frowned and moved to sit on the floor with your niece.

“what are you talking about?” you questioned as she curled up in your lap. “he was doing something weird.” she frowned back and pointed at namjoon; “stay away from my aunty!” you giggled and hugged her in tight and namjoon remained on the couch, alone. too embarrassed to join you on the floor or even try to get close to you with your niece around.

<3

jin

you, jin, and your nephew walked around the mall together, you tried to find something for your sister’s birthday but instead kept getting dragged into stores that had any toys in the display windows. “aunty, lets go into this store too!” you nodded as he dragged you in, jin following closely behind you. “maybe (y/n) can pick the next store, is that okay?” jin asked your nephew, who just looked right through him. “no, im picking the stores today, aunty’s my date!” he runs to an aisle furthest from jin and continues his search for toys. your nephew still in sight, you join jin in the isle he’s currently in.

“im sorry about him jin” he just smiles at you “dont be sorry, hes cute even though he doesn’t like me much” resting a hand on his arm, you respond; “just give him some time, im sure hes just not used to you yet.” you smile at him and he blushes; reaching for your hand to hold, the little boy once again ruins his plans. “dont touch my aunty!” he grabs the hand jin was meant to be holding and began tugging you away from him. “leave him there aunty, he cant come with us.” you laugh at this, “baby he drove us here, we aren’t leaving him.” jin laughed as well, hiding his frustrated emotions well.

<3

yoongi

you were at the studio with yoongi, the two of you sat in the chairs facing his computer while he showed you some of his new music; your niece sat on the couch behind you playing with her toys. “thank you for letting me bring her.” you thank yoongi. he smiles; “its no problem, im just glad you could come.” you smiled at this, “me too.” his gaze lingered long enough for your heart to race, and as he tore his eyes from you he grabbed his headphones. he placed them on you and before he played his song he said “tell me what you think of this song i made for y—”

he was cutoff by a scream and you both jerked your heads back to find your niece standing on the couch, pointing straight at yoongi. “what are you doing to her?! get away!” the two of you sat there, confused. when he didn’t get up to move, she yelled again, “i said get away!” with this she jumped off the couch and ran over to him, pushing him back as he remained sitting in the chair and it rolled back slightly. just enough for her to hop into your lap, hugging you tight and giving yoongi death glares.

“you cant get close to her again, only me!” he smiled, but was disappointed he couldn’t share the song he made for you.

<3

hobi

you and hobi held tightly onto your niece’s hands, swinging her in the air with every other step. she laughed and you joined her; hobi grinning ear-to-ear and watching you. once you arrived at the park, your niece dropped your hands and ran to the playground. you glanced over at hobi as she went down the slide; “thank you for being here with me.” you smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek, one that he absolutely wasn’t expecting but oh god he just fell more in love.

“there’s no where else i’d rather be than right here beside you.” you blush and he leans in; returning the favor and placing a kiss on your cheek. the moment was sweet, but short. you hear a scream and see your niece running towards you. she hugs your leg tightly and cries out “you can’t do that to her!”

you and hobi give each other a questionable look, and hobi decides not to make anymore moves. at least, not with your niece around.

<3

jimin

you were upset when jimin invited you out to a movie, but told him you couldn’t go because you had to watch your nephew. he smiled at this and invited him too; anything if he could spend time with you. once at the movie, your nephew sat on your left and jimin on your right. he quickly noticed you laughing with jimin and got jealous. he tried to get your attention too but when jimin grabbed your hand, that was his last straw.

“hey” he whispers over you and looks dead in jimin’s eyes. “let go of her!” he grabs your left hand as jimin still holds your right one. when jimin didnt let go, he pulls a card jimin cant. he crawls onto your lap, tugging your hand out of jimin’s and holds both of them, getting comfortable on your lap. you laugh and begin to watch the movie again as your nephew smiles at jimin, knowing he’s won this one.

<3

taehyung

standing in the kitchen holding your niece, you laughed as she tugged on your hair and attempted to eat it. you spun her around as she laughed with you, and even though you didnt notice it, taehyung stood in the corner and giggled at the two of you; loving the sight of you with your niece and someday hoped to see the same sight with your own kid. he quietly entered the kitchen and suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, your back pressed to his chest as you held your niece in your arms.

you stopped spinning at the sudden contact and blushed, but it didn’t last long when your niece smacked taehyung’s arm away. neither one of the two said anything, she just glared daggers through taehyung and he took it as his sign to keep his distance. for now.

<3

jungkook

your nephew kept the couch to himself, quietly sitting behind you and jungkook. every once in a while, he’d look up from his toys and look down at the two of you, wondering why this random guy kept scooting closer to his aunty. he tried to watch the two of you play the video game, but found it too boring and so he focused back to his toys. all of a sudden, the man broke the silence and spoke; “(y/n) you’re doing it wrong, try it like this..” at this he looked up and saw something horrible.

this man; this random man in your house was now holding your hands over the controller. he had to stop this. from the couch he stood, and jumped onto jungkook’s back. he released your hands and wrapped arms around your nephew to keep him from falling. “you aren’t allowed to do that to her!” he screamed. you pried him off jungkook’s back and then got put in timeout. “i was just trying to help you aunty, he touched you!” you sighed and begun to explain that he can’t act like that when jungkook spoke up;

“it’s alright (y/n), he was just looking out for you!” he smiled but deep down inside was upset.

<3

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: A lot of mood and scene setting—just vibe with it, MC is in her sad girl era, hints of depression and anxiety, masturbation, Yoongi is a new dad y’all he is tireddd af

Word count: almost 6k

Posting date: November 12, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

Namjoon leans back in his seat, sporting an all-too-familiar, slightly conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Hmm. You know that look. 

It's the same one he had when he "casually" set you up to tutor one of his trainee friends in English—the one you let slip was kinda cute. Or when he signed you up to perform with one of his rapper friends in that underground club in Hongdae. Sure, you knew every word of the chorus to eminem’s Stan, but you were not a fucking singer. 

You still did it, though. Both times. 

Namjoon’s especially notorious for volunteering you to do things he insists are "right up your alley." There’s a fire in his eyes when he starts talking about one of his ideas, and before you know it, you're swept up in his vision, already picturing yourself right there beside him, doing something you’d never consider on your own.

Namjoon has been your best friend since forever and for reasons you can’t explain, saying no to him has always been impossible.

Right. It’s definitely that. It’s definitely not because in those two prior instances mentioned, both friends of his are actually the same guy. The one you had an almost crippling crush on over a decade ago. (You’re sooo over it, though. Trust.)

When Namjoon leaned in, you were already bracing yourself.

“So, you know Yoongi, right?”

You blink, pause, and slowly shake your head. It has taken years, but today is the day you tell him, “No.”

“The fuck? What do you mean no?” He replies, already looking hella amused. “I haven’t even said anything.”

Your face feels like a furnace, but you grit and steady your voice. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

He lets out a hum, shifting in his seat, and you get the sense he’s working up to something. 

You sip your coffee, keeping your eyes on him. He gives you an exaggerated shrug, dimples deepening as he lets his shoulder sag. 

God you’re literally already about to break. 

“Fuck. Joon. Spit it out.”

He nods triumphantly, “Ok, there’s something I thought I’d run by you first, before he hears about it.”

The words hang in the air, and you raise an eyebrow. “Joon. What are you getting me into?”

Namjoon chuckles softly as he folds his hands on the table. “So… Yoongi has a son. A baby, actually.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. 

Woah. Someone has fuckboi Min Yoongi all locked down?! Huh. You never saw that coming.

You let that sink in, surprise filling the quiet space between you. “I… didn’t know he had a kid.”

“Not many people do,” Namjoon admits. “Only those close to him know. Yoongi’s a great dad, but his caretaker recently left, and now he’s scrambling to balance his schedule and take care of his son.”

“And his wife?”

Namjoon sighs, gives you a look that means he’s about to say something confidential. “There’s no wife.”

“Baby mama?”

“Out of the picture.”

You let out a small breath, absorbing everything you just heard. You already had an idea of where this is leading up to, but you want it said explicitly. “So what exactly are you asking me?”

Namjoon nods, eyes hopeful. “Look, I know this is a big ask. I’m putting this out there because you’re one of the best with kids I know. And Yoongi—well, he’s pretty wary about letting new people get close to his son.”

You take another sip of your latte as he prattles on.

“While you’re still getting your bearings back, maybe you could take over the caretaker job, even part time?” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as he says your name. “I just thought you might consider it. You’d be doing us both a favor. Yoongi really needs help, and I’d trust you more than anyone with this.”

You sit back, letting Namjoon’s words settle. Namjoon knows exactly what he’s asking—knows exactly how hard it is for you to refuse when he gives you that puppy dog look, especially when he’s throwing Yoongi into the mix. Honestly, you hate how you're apparently still soft for him even after all these years.

Namjoon also knows your current situation. Does he not realize it’s a bit unfair to ask this of you right now? Not when you're still picking up the pieces after your breakup with your long-term boyfriend. Not when you need time to heal. Not when you literally uprooted your life and just moved back to Seoul a month ago.

But somehow, you can’t shake the curiosity. What would it even be like to see Yoongi as a dad? To get a glimpse of this whole other life he’s got now?

It’s probably a terrible idea. 

Yeah, no. You don’t need this right now. Money isn’t tight. And you need to focus on… 

You take a slow breath, mentally tracing the edges of this mess. There are a hundred reasons to say no, and only one reason you’d even consider saying yes. And because it’s for Yoongi… damn, maybe that’s reason enough.

The next time you see Yoongi, it’s at HYBE’s massive rehearsal space. Namjoon had invited you to watch the group practice—innocent enough, though you know it’s also his way of nudging you toward the job. Joon thinks he’s subtle, but you know his plans are, more often than not, clunky as hell.

You settle in one corner, holding on to your half-finished iced Americano. A few staff are scattered around the studio, there was another girl (maybe a member’s girlfriend, you’re not sure), but it’s mostly empty. The boys are warming up, stretching or chatting, and you wave to Jungkook and Taehyung before finding yourself glancing toward Yoongi.

Wearing an all black outfit and a baseball cap, he’s standing off to the side, arms full with a fussy baby, and a bassinet stroller in front of him. The boy can’t be more than a few months shy of his first birthday. He’s close to tears, twisting and squirming, while Yoongi, visibly flustered, tries to hand him a toy, then a bottle, then anything he can find. Nothing works. Soon, the baby’s fuss turns into a full-on tantrum.

Oh, damn. Poor Yoongi. 

He drops the bottle, spilling milk across the floor just as the stroller, half-locked, rolls a few feet away. He lunges for it, fumbling as the baby’s wailing intensifies, tiny fists flailing in frustration. Yoongi’s eyes dart around, panicked, while a couple of female staff start toward him, hands outstretched. But he waves them off, his face set in a mix of fierce determination and mild desperation as he rocks and hushes the baby.

It honestly hurts to watch the scene unfold. You almost want to do something.

Namjoon starts clearing people out, Jimin dims the studio lights, and Seokjin picks up the spilled bottle, wiping down the floor. Hobi taps a white noise track on his phone, placing it near the stroller. Your heart warms at how effortlessly everyone pitches in, their movements so practiced it’s obvious they’ve done this before. But it makes you wonder just how many rehearsals have paused for these moments. It’s probably why Namjoon wants to help find a solution, a.k.a you.

You meet your best friend’s gaze and he cocks his head toward the door, signaling for you to file out with the others, but your feet take you somewhere else entirely.

“Is he okay?” you ask, approaching Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t hear you at first, too focused on calming his son. His face is etched with exhaustion and something fragile, an uncharacteristic crack in his calm. He finally glances up, half-exasperated. To your mild relief, a look of recognition crosses his face, before he replies, “Yeah, he’s—he’s usually not this fussy.”

You watch him struggle for a bit, then, before you can second-guess, you step forward. “Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi hesitates, studying you like he’s weighing the decision to trust you with his son. His eyes flick towards Namjoon who was standing by the door, before it goes back to you. After a tense pause, he nods, handing the baby over.

You hold the little boy, shifting him gently away from the mirrors and bright lights, rocking him slowly and humming an old lullaby you used to sing for your preschoolers. Gradually, his cries quiet down, his tiny head resting against your shoulder as he begins to relax, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep.

When you glance up, Yoongi is watching, his face unreadable. There’s relief, yes, but also a quiet wonder, an almost surprised gratitude. 

“I owe you,” he murmurs, a softness in his voice you hadn’t expected.

“‘S ok,” you say, quietly, careful not to wake the baby.

The two of you stand there, his eyes on you for just a beat too long, and if you didn’t have the baby to ground you, you feel like you just might float.

“Thank you,” he says, tone soft and sincere.

From across the room, Namjoon watches, his eyes mirroring the same gratitude.

The call from Yoongi comes unexpectedly one evening, just after dinner. You don’t recognize the number, then again you don’t have a lot of +82s yet since you just moved back after many years of being in the States. The last thing you expect is to hear Yoongi’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s…Min Yoongi,” he starts, voice a little rough.

“Oh, hi.”

There’s a short silence, and then he clears his throat. “Namjoonie mentioned you uh might… be interested in helping with my son.”

You feel a strange flutter, both at the fact that Yoongi is talking to you, and at the fact that he’s asking something so personal. “Uh, yeah. I can help out.”

The pause is long enough that you imagine him somewhere, shifting uncomfortably. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he finally says, sounding almost apologetic. “I don’t want to… impose or anything. But it would help. A lot.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” You hear Yoongi release a sigh of relief. Then he says the next phrase in a rush, “I know you are overqualified for this, so uh please let me compensate you with your salary as a teacher in America.”

You feel your face flush. Thank god this was not a video call. Seems you’re as uncomfortable as he is talking about money, though it is a necessary evil. “Oh, no, please Yoongi. You don’t have to. Joonie’s my bestfriend and you’re his brother. I can just help until you can find a more permanent solution.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue with you on this. You hear a puff of breath before he says. “Alright. Thank you.”

And just like that, you’re set. He gives you the address, and you’re left wondering for the rest of the night how you’ll manage this strange new gig.

The first day you arrive at Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam-dong, you’re a bundle of nerves, unsure what to expect. 

After you ring the bell, the door opens to reveal Yoongi with his usual reserved expression, a piece of muslin cloth draped on one shoulder.

“Hi,” he says simply, stepping aside to let you in.

You offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He closes the door behind you as you step inside. You look around, taking everything in.

The apartment is spacious but cozy, with a warmth that speaks of careful design—minimalistic furniture in muted colors, shelves lined with books and vinyl records, a few baby toys strewn around the living room. Homey.

This is the first time you get to really see Yoongi. The brief encounter at the rehearsal studio didn’t afford you the chance to appreciate how time has treated him. 

Seeing him after six years, he’s both the same and somehow different. He has always had that calm confidence—a steady, grounded energy that feels both nostalgic and new. His usually colorful hair, now in its natural hue, casually frames his face. He wears a simple white tee and you can tell the noodle arms are gone. His shoulders are much broader, arms stronger than how you remember him. The silver earrings are still there, subtle reminders of his edginess, softened by time.

But beneath it all, there’s a layer of, hmm… exhaustion, you guess? A shadow under his eyes, faint lines hinting at the weight of sleepless nights. His lips are chapped, there’s a tiny red bump on his chin. He’s a new dad, he hasn’t prioritized himself for a while. Still, his face carries a tenderness in the fatigue, like he’s tired, but happy.

“He’s napping right now,” Yoongi clears his throat, motioning toward a small crib by the window, where his son is sleeping peacefully, bundled in soft blankets. 

“You haven’t told me his name.”

“Haneul.”

“That’s beautiful,” you reply, and Yoongi nods, almost shy.

He hesitates, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. Then he says your name. “I… um, I didn’t know how this would go. His last caretaker was actually my aunt, but she got sick and had to go back home.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He nods, “But after seeing how he calmed down with you… I think he’ll be alright.”

He gives you a tour of his apartment, the baby monitor clipped in his jean pocket. His place is modern, spacious, baby-proofed. There are pictures that line the walls of the hallway linking the nursery, his studio, guest room, guest bath, and the masters.

You spend some time going through Haneul’s things—familiarizing yourself with the layout of the nursery. He shows you where the baby food and snacks are. Talks about his favorite toys and activities. 

While he downloads the 101 on Haneul, the one thing you were curious to know was, where is his birth mom? You obviously don’t want to be a prick so you swallow the question down. Maybe you’ll find out in the future. But for now, you just need to know where the baby wipes are.

For the first few days that you come over, Yoongi keeps close, hovering just within earshot as you ease into the cadence of his son’s needs. He’s there with his arms folded, watching as you handle Haneul, a cautious yet respectful distance. You get it though. You’re a virtual stranger he just let into his home and his son’s life. Who wouldn’t be guarded?

You quickly notice that Haneul has a sweet temperament, but has a bit of a sensitive side. He doesn’t take to loud sounds, so you keep your voice low and movements gentle, singing him lullabies and nursery rhymes under your breath while Yoongi quietly observes, even if he pretends to be engrossed with something else.

On your third day, Yoongi has to leave to attend an important meeting at HYBE. He’s been pacing by the door, making sure his son is settled before he goes, even though you’re right there, holding the baby with practiced ease.

“Are you sure you’re… good with this?” he asks, his brow furrowed, as if still convincing himself to leave.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Go. I got him. He’ll be fine.”

He hesitates one last time, eyes fixed on you, and then he finally gives a small nod. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as the door closes, you’re left with the quiet hum of the apartment and a very awake, very curious baby in your arms. You spend the next hour rocking him and singing songs, amazed at how easily he settles, almost as if he’s known you longer than a few days.

After his nap, you take a video of the babbling Haneul enjoying his yogurt gems and send it to Yoongi. He replies almost immediately with a smiley emoji and a curt: cute.

Yoongi returns around dinnertime right as you’ve settled the baby down in his bed. He steps inside the nursery quietly, watching as you tuck the blanket around his son. When you look up, he’s standing there, holding two cups of steaming liquid.

“I, uh… thought you might want some tea,” he says, looking slightly awkward but endearing.

“Always.” You take the mug with a grateful smile. “How was your meeting?”

“Could’ve been an email,” He shrugs and stuffs the empty hand inside his pocket.

You grin as you take a sip, remembering how you’ve always enjoyed his dry sense of humor, in the rare occasions you hung out in the past. Ooh, this tea is… your favorite.

“Silver moon?” you asked.

He nodded, “There’s a TWG shop that just opened near the office. Namjoonie might have mentioned it was your favorite, so.”

Your ears warm up just as well as your throat as you savor another drink.

“How was Haneul? Did he give you a hard time?”

“Not at all,” you shake your head, looking over to the little angel. “I’ve had a lot of practice, you know.”

“I can’t imagine handling a whole classroom full of them,” he says, looking at you with a mix of admiration and amusement. “One’s hard enough.”

“You’re lucky to have him,” you reply wistfully, suddenly feeling a tug at your heartstrings. ‘What I would give…’ you almost utter out loud.

The thing is, you actually do, without realizing it. Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi files the thought away, a subject he might bring up one day—when the time comes that he thinks you trust him, too.

The days blur into a steady rhythm. You arrive in some afternoons, not really everyday, only when Yoongi needs the extra hand at home or if he needs to leave the house for a day of rehearsals. You both establish that this is merely a favor so he doesn’t treat you like you’re at his every beck and call. Usually it starts with a short message in Kakao, and if you’re free, he would send a car to pick you up. Your meals are always ready, delivered on the dot. Conveniences are always within your reach—your favorite tea, extra clothes in case there are food or poop blow-outs, etc. The cleaning lady that goes thrice a week, Mrs. Kwon sometimes keeps you company and assists you with anything.

As you help take care of his baby, you feel that he’s looked out for you, too. Which is nice.

On days that he is working from home, Yoongi brings his work into the living room, just to be nearby during playtime with you and Haneul. 

One evening, when his son falls asleep in your arms after a particularly fussy day, Yoongi glances up from his laptop and leans back in his chair, a tired but grateful smile breaking through.

“He’s really taken to you,” he observes, sounding almost as if he’s admitting it to himself.

You smile, feeling a strange warmth at his words. “I think he’s just a really sweet kid, Yoongi. He’s easy to love.”

The smile he gives you after that is probably the gummiest one you’ve ever seen. 

A few weeks pass, and a subtle partnership has started forming between you, like you’re both slowly finding a rhythm in the chaos of caring for Haneul.

Bath time becomes a kind of unspoken relay: you gather the towel and clothes, while Yoongi preps the tub, testing the water with careful fingers. There’s a brief exchange of glances—no need for words, just a nod as you pass off Haneul, who’s already giggling happily.

Snack time turns into a ritualized watch party. You set out the applesauce and crackers for Haneul, and Yoongi brings a bag of chips and his laptop over to the living room, joining you and Haneul for yet another episode of Miss Rachel. Occasionally, he’ll mutter a sarcastic comment under his breath, trying (and failing) to disguise the fact that he’s memorized the songs, too. (And in English, no less!)

There was one particular afternoon that you walk in on the father and son having a heartwarming exchange.

Haneul, who’s wobbling on his unsteady little legs, is reaching eagerly for a stuffed tiger Yoongi is holding just out of reach.

“Oh, no, no, no—you gotta work for this,” Yoongi teases, eyebrows raised dramatically. He moves the tiger side to side, adding a low, exaggerated growl that makes Haneul squeal with laughter. Yoongi leans fully into the act, growling and making faces, finally swooping Haneul up with a playful roar, both of them dissolving into laughter.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, your heart catching slightly at the sight. The way his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement, his mouth relaxed into a wide gummy grin. And you’re startled by how… soft he looks, how fucking attractive he is when he’s like this. When his usual quiet intensity is replaced by this playfulness, by this open warmth. It hits you somewhere deep, a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you can’t quite ignore.

Yoongi catches you watching, his smile faltering for a moment, but he holds your gaze. His expression shifts, something curious reflecting in his eyes as if he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he swallows a lump in his throat, cheeks dusting a faint pink as he looks down, bashful.

You force yourself to glance away, feeling warmth creep up your neck. For the first time, you’re struck by an awareness of him that wasn’t there before, and it lingers, even as you turn back to whatever it was you were supposed to be doing. The image of his smile, his laughter—it all stays with you, stirring something you can’t quite put a name to.

And just like that, you’re settling into this role in the life of the Min men—something you know is temporary, but is infinitely meaningful.

When you’re not in Yoongi’s apartment, your own place feels strangely foreign.

God, you hate it here. You can’t even bring yourself to call it home—it’s just a room with white walls, half-opened moving boxes, a stack of unread books Joonie gave you, a mattress on the floor, and a fridge with a single egg. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You could fix the place up—it’s not like you can’t afford a bed frame or groceries—but for some reason, you’re punishing yourself. Like this is the way someone like you—unwanted and rejected—ought to live.

Nothing in this flat tethers you to it, and maybe that’s why you prefer being out.

You’re afraid your heart is stuck somewhere in limbo, somewhere between Seoul and LA. Maybe it’s still floating above the clouds on that flight back. You don’t know when it’ll come down, but you hope it’s soon.

Tonight, you’re restless, tossing and turning in your makeshift bed, replaying fragments of your old life—a love that once felt solid, a future that had once felt certain. Your mind drifts to those last conversations with Jiyong, your ex, the ones where he shut down every hope you had for a family, making you wonder if wanting more was somehow wrong.

You probably deserve it, though. You want a family, but you can barely cook for yourself. What do you hope to feed a child—takeout? Junk food? It’s laughable. You can’t even make a home feel like one. Jiyong probably got tired of you because you’re useless at it.

Stop. You close your eyes, focus on your breathing, try to still your mind. 1, 2, 3…

Some nights, you especially hate yourself. Tonight is one of them.

You need to call Namjoon. He can usually talk you down, ease the self-loathing. You ring him three times, but each time, you get his voicemail. Fuck. Maybe he’s out, maybe he’s getting laid. Good for him, honestly.

But that might actually work. You rummage through one of your boxes and find the one purple bullet that’s gotten you through plenty of spirals. With a flick, the vibrator buzzes to life, and you slip it beneath your panties, pressing it right against your clit. You’re not in the mood to drag this out—you want release, quick and easy, something to take the edge off.

At first, your limbs relax as that familiar tingle begins, little sparks shooting from your core, teasing you with hints of pleasure. You keep at it, determined, but after a few minutes, the sensations stall. It’s like your body’s stuck, lingering on the edge without tipping over, leaving you stranded and more frustrated than when you started. You decide to cut your losses.

Maybe a shower. Maybe you can pop by the GS25 down the block for a bottle of soju.

But then your phone pings. It’s Yoongi.

Your tummy suddenly feels funny.

You immediately swipe up and read the string of messages that has popped on your Kakao.

Yoongi: Hey so I found this in Haneul’s crib Yoongi: image.jpg  Yoongi: u got this for him? he is lowkey obsessed. Yoongi: But WTF is it? 

You cackle. Loud and hearty. A sound you didn’t think you were capable of on a shitty night like this.

You: A capybara! Look it up! Yoongi: Oh Yoongi: never heard of it You: They’re cute Yoongi: ? You: Don't be mean You: Haneul and I love bora Yoongi: ?? You: thats her name Yoongi: noted

That night, the Kakao thread becomes your lifeline. Yoongi asks about your next visit, what you had for dinner, and when you say goodnight he sends back a grainy selca of him and a sleeping Haneul with Bora. The photo brings unexpected joy, something to remind you that you aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels. Finally, you succumb to slumber, clutching your phone to your chest, thoughts of Yoongi and Haneul floating in your dreams.

After that, you become more and more aware that Yoongi’s place has become a sanctuary. There’s Haneul’s bright laughter, the way his tiny fingers curl around yours, and the sound of Yoongi’s soft, steady voice, creating a background that somehow starts to feel comforting. With them, you’re too busy to dwell on the past or the ache left behind by someone else’s rejection. Instead, you’re present, stable.

And it’s in those moments—when you’re reading Haneul a story or soothing him to sleep—that you feel a glimmer of something you’d thought you’d lost: hope. The simple act of holding him, soothing him through his small struggles… It’s healing in a way you can’t quite put into words, as if this little boy is slowly fusing pieces of your heart you’d almost forgotten were broken.

And Yoongi—he’s part of it, too. His presence, his quiet strength, the way he’s trusted you with something so precious. 

You know this is just a phase, that this isn’t your life, but a part of you can’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were. To be here, day after day, with this little family that’s somehow found its way into your heart.

You’re still healing, still putting yourself back together, but this—this feels like the start of something you could believe in again.

What you couldn’t believe though was the email from your building administrator with an acknowledgment receipt for next quarter’s rent payment—all settled. You haven’t made the deposit yet, how come it’s saying it’s been paid for already?

You pace your room staring at the email from your phone as if it holds all the answers. 

What is happening? Who paid for this? You didn’t sign up for some sugar baby service… 

Wait. Something clicks in your brain. Suga. Baby.

Your first instinct is to call Namjoon, meddler extrordinaire. He picks up on the second ring, sounding annoyingly chipper.

“‘Sup, buttercup?” he asks.

“Don’t act cute, Joonie,” you warn. “Did you know about this?”

There’s a pause. “About what, exactly?”

“Yoongi,” you say, practically hissing his name. “He paid my rent, didn’t he? Three months’ worth. How did he even know where I live?”

Namjoon lets out a hum, his tone maddeningly calm. “Ah. That.”

“Yes. That. Care to explain?”

“Look,” Namjoon says, unbothered. “Yoongi asked, so I gave him your address. He said you refused his offer, but still he wanted to pay you back somehow.”

“But Joon! It’s too much—” You pause, scrambling for the right words. “How did he even get a hold of the landlord and settle all this without my knowledge?”

Namjoon chuckles, which only makes you more annoyed. “Yoongi hyung is an influential guy, you know. If he wants something, he’ll fuckin’ find a way. Just take it, okay? You’re helping him, he’s helping you. It’s fair.”

You huff, still not convinced. “It’s just… a lot, Joon. I don’t need anyone swooping in and paying my bills. And you could’ve at least warned me.”

“I get it. But you’re helping him with something really important. This is his way of saying thank you.”

You sink back into your chair, the irritation draining out of you. “Fine,” you mutter. “But if he pulls something like this again, I’m coming for your ass.”

Namjoon laughs. “Aishh. Why the hell is it my fault?”

“You’re a smart man. Figure it out.” You hang up.

You spend that afternoon at Yoongi's. He was in a rush, dashing out for some shoot as you arrive. You hear him return around seven, just as you're finishing putting Haneul to sleep. Once the baby is settled, you tiptoe out of the nursery with the baby monitor on hand, following the sounds of soft clinking and the rich aroma wafting from the kitchen.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you call out, stepping into view. “Haneul’s all tucked in. I was just gonna—”

“Stay for dinner?” Yoongi’s eyes light up, his voice gentle but hopeful as he turns, holding a pot in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It looks like he came straight from his shoot, his hair still styled in soft, precise waves that swoop perfectly across his cheekbones. He’s wearing the softest, oversized yellow sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, and his jeans hug him just right. But it’s his smile that really draws you in—light radiates from him, his face glowing not just from a bit of skincare, but from something more.

Goddamn. The man is looking fine as hell.

You’d planned to meet up with Namjoon tonight, but one look at Yoongi—whose eyes are too shy to hold yours as he ladles red sauce into a ceramic bowl—and you know you are absolutely staying put. Joon will understand.

“Ok, yeah, that looks really good,” you say.

“It is.” Yoongi smirks, just barely, and gestures to the fridge. “I’ll plate this up if you can grab some drinks?”

You procure a couple of beers from the chiller and set them on the dining table, shooting off a quick text to Joon afterwards.

You: Hey, raincheck? Yoongi made dinner and it looks good ngl

His response is instant.

Namjoon: You blowing me off to play house with hyung. K. I see how it is.

This asshole.

You’re about to call and give him a piece of your mind when Yoongi’s voice pulls you back. “Everything okay?”

Your gaze shifts to the plates of spaghetti he’s just set down, the aroma working wonders to sway your thoughts. “Yeah, just Joon being a pain in my ass as usual.”

“Sit.” Yoongi gestures to your chair as he settles into his.

“Wait.” You grab the baby monitor from the kitchen counter, setting it between you and Yoongi. The screen shows Haneul fast asleep, Bora tucked securely under his arm.

“There. Now we can eat.”

Yoongi nods, and the two of you dig in.

It hits you that this is actually the first time the two of you have shared a quiet dinner together like this. You were expecting Yoongi to let the silence linger, but he starts a conversation mid-way.

“I, uh, was surprised to see you back here,” he says casually, twirling a forkful of pasta.

“Me too. It was… kind of abrupt.”

He nods, not pressing, just listening. You don’t think you’re ready to talk about that so you try a joke.

“Didn’t think you’d ever see the girl who carried your performance of Stan?” you add, smirking. “I basically launched your career.”

“Carried?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Nah, you were choking.”

“Hell no.”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs softly, shoulders bobbing. “Rewriting history….”

“Fine. I sucked. Joon totally went behind my back with that one. Not that he’s the only one who likes going behind my back,” you add pointedly, of course alluding to the matter of your paid-off rent.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Sorry for overstepping.”

“Just don’t start paying my utilities behind my back, too. Because—”

He shifts awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Yoongi?”

He clears his throat. “Just your electricity. I… may have asked the landlord to include it this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And water,” he adds quickly, eyes widening like a kid who just got caught.

“Add my Netflix subscription while you’re at it.”

“Done.”

“NO!!! You’re actually worse than Joonie,” you groan, though a smile quirks at your lips. “But, thank you:”

He nods, briefly pausing before he speaks up again, a little too flippantly. “So… you and Namjoonie—what’s the deal there?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. “You know what we all think? That he’s playing some kind of long game with you.”

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “Oh god, no. Y’all are waayyy off. Namjoon’s like my brother, that’s it.”

Yoongi nods slowly, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you.

“Everyone thinks that, huh?” you ask, leaning in, a little bolder than usual.

“Mhmm.” Yoongi gives a slow nod, as he nibbles his lower lip.

“All the members?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you carefully.

“Including you?”

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though something shifts in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know existed.

“Interesting,” you murmur, swirling your glass.

“Why?” he narrows his eyes on you, wheels turning in his head.

Maybe it’s the beer loosening you up, bubbles lifting your usual filters. You’ve always been a lightweight.

“You never wondered why Joonie suddenly set you up for English tutoring with me—just you—even though your company had a professional hired to teach everyone?”

He blinks, eyes narrowing a bit more.

“Or why I ended up singing with you at that damn club?” You laugh, leaning back.

His lips mold into a small pout, processing, but you’re already laughing.

“Joonie’s been throwing me into your orbit, Yoongi,” you say, giggling, the alcohol hitting you hard now. “And you’re telling me you never noticed?”

He looks like he’s having a full conversation with himself, his mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish inside a gallon bottle. All he manages is an eloquent: “shit.”

“Well, for the record,” you pause, “I thought you were cute, but it was obvious you weren’t interested. Don’t worry, though,” you say lightly, glancing down on your almost empty plate. “I’m a big girl now. It’s all in the past.”

As you stab the last meatball, you miss the way Yoongi’s gaze softens.

You have no way of knowing what’s going through his head. But if you did, you would find that he’s thinking:

If he could go back in time, he’d kick his younger self straight in the balls for not noticing, and tell him to get his head out of his ass long enough to realize this one shocking truth: 

You were not Namjoon’s girl.

And he actually had a chance with you.

Because maybe you’re right. Back then everything was about the dream—y’know, big house, big cars, big rings, and all that shit. So yeah, maybe, he wasn’t ready then.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t now.

Notes: Oh-KKKAYYY!! How are we feeling? Anything you liked in particular in this chapter? Where is the baby mama? Do we even care atp?!

Part 2 is where things get more flirty, spicy, and all that good stuff.

Tell me your thoughts and theories. See you in the comments! <333

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful, human 💕🫶🏼

Part Two >

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake @flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond

@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne

@eurydiceofterabithia

Sorry if I'm unable to tag you. Did my best to include everyone who commented and asked!

[casuallyimagining]

Fallen (2) | myg

Min Yoongi x Female Reader

➢ Summary: If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then where does that leave you? Spurned by your ex-fiance, you seek the one person who can help. But as it turns out, the price of revenge may be a little more than you bargained for.

➢ Word Count: 11,874 ➢ Genre:Fallen Angel AU, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst ➢ Warnings:homelessness, abusive ex, manipulation, emotional abuse, forced isolation, major character injury, blood, mentions of critiques of organized western religion, threats of harm, brief mentions of an almost-panic attack, arguing, suspected stalking, smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity (which is a dumb social construct), alcohol consumption

➢ Notes:Thank you to @daechwitatamic and @madbutgloriouspond for reading through this fic and for listening to me talk about it literally every day. And many thanks to @btsmosphere for helping me with the angst, and @luaspersona and @vsualitae for their help with the smut (and more!).

Fallen Masterlist

You call out sick the next day. And the next one. Suddenly, it’s two weeks later and you’re not quite sure how you got there. It’s like how when you’re driving, and nothing’s really happening, and you can’t exactly remember the past few miles. There’s a fog that’s been eating at the edges of your brain. Your motivation is shot–you go to work, and come home, and go to sleep, going through the motions, but not actually participating in your life. 

You feel like shit. It feels like everything in your chest has been turned to lead. Your stomach has permanently sank somewhere just below your feet, your heart is heavy, your lungs feel tight. 

And what’s worse, it’s started to snow. 

You sit on the steps leading up to your apartment, forearms resting on your knees. Snow falls gently around you. It’s just now starting to stick, the sidewalk and road covered in a light dusting. It’s cold–you’re in your coat and a knitted beanie, so you aren’t freezing, but you’re the only one stupid enough to be sitting outside at a time like this. But there’s something about how calm and still the world feels right now.

When you first moved into this neighborhood a year and a half ago, it hadn’t been your favorite. There are no tree-lined streets, no parks nearby, the buses are always late, and the closest subway stop is down three flights of stairs. But after Dawoon, it became your refuge, too far beneath your ex for him to bother with you. You sigh and lean back against your door and watch the snow drift down around you. A black SUV drives by slowly, the third one this week. You have a sinking feeling it’s Dawoon checking in on you. You can feel the telltale signs of panic start to niggle in the back of your mind, and you take a deep breath to try to prevent it.

You sigh and force yourself to stand, and for a moment, your thoughts drift like the snow. Despite everything, you find yourself thinking of Yoongi and whether or not he’s cold. The demon attack had destroyed his coat, and no matter what had happened, you didn’t want him to freeze.

Once inside, you hang your coat by the door and collapse onto the couch. Passively, you observe your apartment. It’s not much–one bedroom, small kitchen, a living room–but it’s yours. But lately, it’s felt… off. Nothing bad necessarily. It’s still your home, still your stuff. But every once in a while, you’ll walk into a room or come home and something will seem different. Sometimes, you can identify it. A coffee cup where you don’t remember leaving it. A blanket neatly folded on the back of your couch. At first, you’d thought it was weird. But now, your brain is so fogged over, you’re pretty sure you’re just doing things and forgetting about them.

You’re exhausted, despite the fact that you haven’t done much, and when you turn on the tv, you can feel that you’ll probably be falling asleep halfway through whatever you decide to watch, so you grab a blanket. Better to be prepared to fall asleep than wake up cold later. You squint at the tv, trying desperately to focus on the old sitcom you’d flipped to, but you can feel yourself slipping. You’re almost gone–in that gooey area somewhere between wake and dreaming where you’re aware of your surroundings but only barely–when you feel the blanket tug up and over your shoulders. 

You snuggle in and before you know it, you’re asleep.

Something wakes you up. You’re not sure what exactly, but it was definitely something. A noise in the house. Or… something. You sit up, grabbing the blanket and draping it around your shoulders before it falls to the ground. Nothing is wrong in the apartment, at least as far as you can tell. Nothing is out of place, no weird sounds, no mysterious movements. You almost have yourself convinced that it was something outside that woke you up when you hear it.

Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.

It’s slow, measured, purposefully quiet. 

Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.

In the kitchen, maybe? Slowly, you stand to look. The light isn’t on, but you can still hear the gentle flapping. Or maybe it’s pattering? It doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t be happening in your kitchen. You grab the television remote–ammunition, just in case–and tug the blanket closer around your neck. Nothing can hurt you when you’re under a blanket. At least, you hope that’s how that works.

You creep toward the kitchen, hiding behind the door frame. You can hear whatever it is pacing in front of your cabinets, though the footsteps don’t sound normal. Back and forth, back and forth, from the refrigerator to the sink. A burglar with anxiety, perhaps?

With a deep breath, you step into the room and flick on the light, readying yourself to throw the remote. The figure–you can see now it’s a person–freezes, hunched over slightly. You can see the muscles in their back tense, and you can tell they’re going to flee.

“Don’t,” you warn, voice low. The figure sighs and hangs its head, turning to face you, and seeing the mop of black hair again brings your anger to the surface again. The blanket slides off your shoulders. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” Yoongi practically whispers.

You scoff. “So you decided to break into my house and creep around in my kitchen?”

“I was afraid Dawoon would-”

“Like you care.”

“What? Of course I- Why would you think I don’t care?”

You rub your face. You’re tired, in the obvious way–it’s late, and you haven’t been sleeping well–but you’re also just drained. You’re sick of being mad, sick of being scared, sick of being on-edge. “Please just… just go, Yoongi.”

“No.” He says it firmly, takes a step toward you. 

He’s close enough to reach out and touch now. But you don’t. Even though a part of you remembers how comforting his presence was. Even though a part of you admits that his presence is still kind of comforting.

His hand brushes your forearm and you recoil. “Don’t act like you’re trying to help. I told you I didn’t need it anymore.”

“I want to help. I do care. If you would just listen-” He grabs your elbows gently and you can feel your blood pressure spike.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, hitting him. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. Leave me alone.” With each sentence, your hand connects with his chest, but he doesn’t let go. 

“Not until you listen-”

“You left. Don’t you know how much that hurts? We…” The words stick in your throat. “And then you were just gone. Without an explanation. I wasn’t sure if I’d done something wrong, or-.”

“Of course not, I-”

“You said you’d help, but now everything is worse. Leave. me. alone.” You hear your voice crack, and suddenly, you’re aware that you’re crying. You aren’t exactly sure why you’re crying, only that you are and there’s no way you’ll be able to stop. It’s like a freight truck of emotions has crashed into you at highway speeds–emotions that you didn’t even know you were feeling. 

He lets you hit him, takes every blow on the chest easily and unflinchingly. Quickly, your energy runs out. You’re positive it doesn’t hurt him anymore, if it ever did, but you keep at it anyway. Much like the crying, you’re not sure you can stop. Ever so gently, Yoongi tugs on your arms, pulling you toward him. You fight it weakly and try to get out of his grip, but even if you weren’t exhausted, he’s much stronger. He pulls you close, trapping your arms between your bodies. But his hold is strong, and he’s warm, and there’s something about feeling his steady breathing that soothes you, if only slightly.

“He’s never going to leave me alone,” you lament softly, squeezing your eyes shut. “Things are just going to keep getting worse until…”

“Hey, kid, no.” Yoongi’s voice is gentle, kind. You get the sense that he’d use the same tone when talking to a frightened animal. “I know it’s tough now, but-”

“What do you know? You haven’t been here.”

He hums, and it reverberates in his chest. This close to him, you can feel it, and your stomach–the damned traitor–flutters at the sensation. “Not that you could see, no.” You feel him sigh. “I’m sorry I left. I could sense something had changed with Dawoon and wanted to find out what it was, see if I could prevent anything from happening. When I came back, it was too late.”

“You saw him at the bar?”

“Everything.”

“Then why-”

“If he had known I was there, it just would have made it worse. And you, dear kid,” he squeezes you gently, almost playfully, “are notoriously very bad at not acknowledging me when I’m trying to be sneaky.” You can’t see it, but you can feel him smile. Suddenly, you’re warmer, cozier, and you can feel some of your exhaustion melting.

You sigh and wiggle your arms out from between you. You’re still mad that he left–seriously, who leaves after kissing someone?--but it makes you feel better to know his reasoning. It’s nice to know that even then, he was still trying to help, even if it was a little misguided and a lot frustrating. But you don’t want to focus on that now. You tuck your chin over his shoulder, the one the demons had injured only a few weeks ago, and your arms fall to wrap around his waist. 

For a moment, you stand there in silence, wrapped up in the warmth of him. It’s comforting, you decide, having him here. He even smells comforting, like vanilla and oranges and winter and a bit of smoke. You sigh, and his grip around you tightens.

“It’ll get better,” he vows softly. “I’ll make it better. I promise.”

It’s weird, having Yoongi back. Not because you don’t want him to be back, but because it’s… it’s just weird. Part of you expects him to leave again unexpectedly–that one day, you’ll turn around to say something and he’ll have left without a word. 

Part of you wonders if that would make things easier.

But you’d notice if he was gone because you barely sleep. A fun side-effect of Dawoon’s torment. Almost any noise wakes you up, from the natural shifting and settling of your apartment to noises out on the street. All total, you’ve probably gotten 20 hours of sleep in the past week. You’re surviving on energy drinks and ice water, chugging one can of liquid caffeine just before you start your shift at the bar and downing nearly frozen water for the few hours you have to be coherent enough to serve people. You aren’t really sure how you get home, but you’re pretty sure Yoongi’s responsible, because he’s been following you everywhere.

You startle, sitting bolt upright from where you were curled into the armrest of the couch and frantically looking around. From beside you, Yoongi soothes you back down from the metaphorical ledge, his gentle shushing and a warm hand on your arm lulling your heart rate back down to a healthy level.

“I heard a noise,” you mumble, tugging your blanket up so it covers more of your torso. You’re exhausted, and you can feel your eyes drooping, but you will yourself to stay awake.

“The tv,” he explains, and when you turn your head, you see he’s watching some movie you’ve definitely seen before but are too tired to identify. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been jumpy and on-edge for weeks now.”

Weeks. The days had started to run together, a blur of hypervigilance and paranoia. You can’t trust that Dawoon wasn’t watching you, can’t guarantee that he hasn’t hired someone to follow you or watch your house. The black SUV continues to circle your neighborhood–several times a day, now, it’s parked just down the block. Always the same shiny black with tinted windows. You never look too long at it for fear of what you’ll see. 

You sigh, smoothing out the creases in your blanket. “I don’t want to give him any more reason…” You don’t finish your thought. He already knows about Yoongi. That’s more than enough reason for him to ruin your life again.

You reach for the iced coffee sitting on the side table, chasing the straw around the glass for a moment before finally honing in on it. But before you can take a sip, Yoongi is taking the drink from your hands gently. “You don’t need more caffeine. You need a break,” he says softly. His eyes are gentle as he looks at you. Suddenly, you feel scolded, and you tug the blanket even higher.

“I don’t know that we can just declare it’s break time. That’s not how this works.”

“We need to get you somewhere you’ll feel safe. Somewhere you won’t feel like he’s constantly watching you.”

“How? The second I step out that door…” You sigh. Yoongi means well. He’s trying. You don’t want to yell at him again.

He shrugs. “I could take us.”

“Like the diner?” He nods. “Do you know anywhere safe?”

“Do you?”

The question gives you pause. Do you know anywhere Dawoon would never think to look for you? Somewhere safe from him and his influence and his threats. Maybe, but…

“Why don’t you pick where?” you ask quietly. What if you pick wrong?

“It should be somewhere you can relax.” Yoongi’s hand finds your thigh over the blanket and he gives a comforting squeeze. “I don’t know that I could guess.”

You hum. A break does sound nice. A day without the black SUV parked outside sounds nice. A day to actually relax for the first time in forever sounds nice. 

“When?” you ask, allowing your head to fall back against the couch.

Yoongi mirrors you, his dark hair falling into his face, casting deep shadows across his delicate features in the low light of the tv. “Whenever you want.”

“What if it costs money?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Yoongi.” You didn’t want to steal anything. Almost all of the relaxing places you could think of involved renting a hotel room or something.

For a moment, he’s silent, his catlike dark eyes clouded in thought. Then, he smiles cheekily. “Pick somewhere cheap.”

You roll your eyes. But surprisingly, you do know of somewhere. Yoongi’s gaze meets yours, and you can see the question behind it. For a moment, it’s like he can read your thoughts. And maybe he can, because silently, he turns his hand over from where it still is resting against your thigh and he raises an eyebrow. 

Ready? The question is silent, but it’s as obvious as if he’d said it out loud. And without hesitation, you take his hand.

“Think of where you want to go.” His voice, soft and deep, enters your mind, and you aren’t sure if he spoke or if communicating with thoughts is just something he can do. But you listen to him, and your thoughts drift to your destination. 

Yoongi squeezes your hand, and a warm breeze picks up. You know what you’re in for this time, but the lurch of your stomach still sucks. Suddenly, you’re standing, and everything around you is dark. If it weren’t for the warmth of Yoongi’s hand clutching yours, you would think you were alone.

“The breaker panel is in the corner,” you say quietly, dropping his hand to go find it. 

There’s not much to go off–your memories of this place are fuzzy with age–but eventually, your blind groping leads you to a metal panel set against the wall. You open it and flick on a couple switches, and you can hear the hum of a refrigerator coming to life in another corner of the room. Suddenly, light envelops you, and you blink a few times at the brightness. Yoongi stands by the door, his hand on the light switch as he inspects where you’ve brought him. 

The cabin is small, just one large room with an offshoot for the bathroom. There’s a small kitchen in the corner, with a wood-fired stove and a drop sink. Close to the fireplace is an old couch that you know pulls out to be a full size bed. There are curtains on the windows, dusty old things that used to have a pattern but it’s impossible to tell what it was. There’s a frame opposite the bathroom that used to have a mattress on it, but it’s no longer there.

It’s freezing, and you cross the room to the door beside the fireplace. You open it, and a gust of icy wind blows in some snow. It’s been years since you’ve been here, and you have no idea how long it’s been since anyone else was here, but just outside the door is a pile of chopped wood, perfectly stacked waist-high. You grab an armful of logs and return inside. 

Yoongi watches you stack the logs in the fireplace, and you notice that somehow, he has a pair of bags at his feet. You don’t question it. At this point, you’re not sure what the extent of his powers are, but you’re pretty sure he can do almost anything. It only takes a few moments for you to get the fire going, and once the flames are strong enough, you collapse onto the couch. 

“What time is it?” you ask. The exhaustion has returned, hitting you like a freight train in the process. Your whole body feels like it’s made of lead, and you’re not sure that you could stand again if you wanted to.

“Nearly three in the morning.” Yoongi turns the light off and joins you on the couch. Somehow, he has a blanket, and he drapes it gently over you. “Where are we?”

“My uncle’s cabin. He only uses it during hunting season.” You stifle a yawn. “Dawoon and I came here once in college when we needed a break. There’s no way he remembers it. It’s the only place I could think of.”

He hums. In the flickering light of the fire, you can’t read him. Not that you really ever could. He’s sitting beside you, the warmth of his body radiating into you. Half of the blanket is draped across his lap. Cautiously, he lifts an arm and tucks the blanket tighter around you. “Get some sleep, kid.”

A high-pitched whistle jolts you awake, and you sit bolt upright. For a moment, you’re confused. This is not your living room. It’s colder, and the couch is far more uncomfortable. But then you hear Yoongi swearing under his breath off to your left, and you relax slightly. The cabin. That’s right.

You groan and force yourself to stand, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders as you meander the few feet into the kitchen. Yoongi shoots you a small, sheepish smile as he guides you to the table. “Sorry for the noise,” he says softly, helping you tug the blanket more securely around you. “I was hoping to catch it before it did that.”

You almost ask what he’s talking about, but then he’s placing a steaming mug of tea in front of you, and it starts to make sense. The whistling. He must have found a kettle in one of the cupboards. The mug warms your fingers as you grip it, and when he pulls out a chair and sits close enough that his knee bumps yours under the table, the rest of you is warm, too.

It’s quiet as you sit there, sipping the tea Yoongi made you. It’s… not great, admittedly. You can only guess how old the tea leaves are, but it’s warm, and it’s sweet that he made it, so you drink it anyway. You didn’t get a great look at it last night, but the cabin seems cleaner somehow. You wonder if Yoongi slept at all, or if he even needs sleep. There’s so much you don’t know about him.

There’s so much you want to know about him.

Luckily, Yoongi packed you a book. You still aren’t 100 percent sure how or when he’d packed bags for you, but thankfully, he’d been thorough. It’s surprisingly nice, being holed up with him here. The cabin is cozy, despite its age and disuse. The couch is shockingly comfortable to sit in–though notably less so to sleep in–and you spend most of the day curled up against the armrest reading your book. 

You’re vaguely aware of Yoongi puttering around the cabin. At some point in the afternoon, he opens the door and shrieks at the snow that gets blown in with the wind. But other than that, he’s mostly quiet. Part of you wants to talk to him. Part of you isn’t sure what to say. So you let it go, until it eats away at you.

He must know that something is up because when it’s dark out, after he’s done tidying the kitchen, Yoongi sits beside you on the couch. “Is something wrong?”

You sigh and close your eyes. You’d been staring into the fire, and now you can see the dancing of the flames behind your eyes. For a moment, it’s quiet. He doesn’t push you to talk, simply sits there and lets you stew in your thoughts for as long as it takes. He’s close, close enough to touch, to hold, if you wanted. But you don’t move. Even though you do kind of want to.

“What’s it like?” you ask softly. “The afterlife?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

You shrug. “Just curious.”

“It’s…” He sighs, takes his time, chooses his words carefully. “They say it’s different for everyone.”

“You haven’t seen it?”

“Only the archangels can go there. Well, them and the big guy’s chosen ones.” You only hum in response. “Why?”

You’re not sure why you asked. Only that you’d had a thought and now you can’t shake it. “When I’m… 80,” you start carefully, “you’ll still be this?” You gesture vaguely at his face, his body. He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a wordless question, that says he doesn’t fully agree. “No?”

“When I fell, I didn’t think I’d have any powers at all.” His voice is quiet as he navigates his thoughts. “I’d heard of so many angels who had fallen in love with humans and who fell because of it. They lost their powers on the way down. But when I pulled myself out of the river, I… hadn’t lost anything. The snakes said that the loss is because those other angels loved a human. They said it’s a gradual process.”

“That’s good for you, right? You still have your powers.”

“I’ve been getting weaker,” he admits softly. “I’m not sure how much is left.”

You sit there for a moment, confused. Why would his powers be weakening if he’s not… Oh.

Oh.

The only sound is the crackling of the fire. You’re suddenly aware of how warm you are, and you’re not sure it’s all from the fire. Yoongi is sitting awfully close, his hand is mere centimeters from your own, your knees are almost touching. There’s something fluttering in the pit of your stomach. Is that… nerves? You aren’t sure why you’re nervous. It’s Yoongi. Despite everything, he’s been there for you. He’s never judged you, or thought less of you. Even when you’d hidden things from him, even when you’d literally hired him to help you get revenge on Dawoon, he’d always been kind. He’d always treated you like a person. Like you were worthy of respect and care.

Maybe it wasn’t nerves. 

When you turn to him, he’s already looking at you, dark eyes reflecting the flickering of the flames in the hearth. Before you can think, you’re reaching out, pulling yourself towards him. Your lips meet. He doesn’t react. You pull away ever so slightly, worried that maybe you’d read the situation wrong, that maybe he hadn’t meant you. But then his hands are on your waist, bringing you back, pulling you closer. His lips, still a little chapped, mould against yours perfectly.

Your hands cup his face, his skin soft against your touch. Your thumbs smooth across the apples of his cheeks, and the soft hum that it elicits from him rumbles in your own chest. He pulls away slightly, breathless and wide-eyed, and he adjusts his grip on your waist. There’s a moment that passes between you, a question and answer that isn’t voiced, checking in, making sure this is okay. And then he squeezes your hip, and one of your hands slides into his hair. 

Kissing Yoongi this time is different. The first time, weeks ago, was tentative, testing the waters. It was two people navigating an unexplored ocean together, unsure of where things were going or where you’d end up. But this? This was more purposeful, more direct. It’s tasting the waffles he’d made for dinner still on his lips, it’s the synchronous movements of your lips, your hands, your bodies. It’s bumping noses and clashing teeth and tugging hair. Desperate and passionate and sweet.

His hands are everywhere, gripping the dip in your waist, the curve of your ass. He hums and gives tentative squeezes everywhere he finds that he likes. And he seems to like quite a lot. His hands travel up, up, up your body, exploring your curves over your clothes, following the lines of your sides. He pauses at your ribs, thumbs resting just below the wire of your bra, and shifts his hold once again so that one of his hands is behind your back, pressing you closer, as if he’s trying to merge your bodies, mould them together like clay.

You kiss your way away from his mouth, peppering kisses along his jaw, down the column of his neck until you get to the spot. Just above his clavicle, almost under the neckline of his shirt. You leave a kiss there and he groans deliciously, deep and gravelly and guttural. Amused, you repeat the action, nipping his skin ever so slightly. He jolts under you, another groan rumbling through his chest as his hold on your side tightens ever so slightly. His touch is pure fire, hot and all-consuming. You should maybe be worried about what he’s doing to you—what he’s done—but god, you would pay anything for it to keep going. 

“Off,” you say impatiently, tugging at his sweater–your sweater. The cream fabric hangs off his body. It’s cute how big it is on him. You help him pull it over his head and drop it somewhere behind the couch. Soon after, your own shirt joins it. 

Yoongi’s hands wander tentatively, his fingertips barely brushing your skin as he drags them up your sides. They settle at your ribs, his long fingers splaying against you, thumbs gently caressing the silken cups of your bra. Your eyes wander his torso as your hands slide up his chest, stopping at three pink and angry scratches on his left shoulder. 

“These aren’t healing very well,” you manage, tracing the slashes with your finger as he laves at your neck, nipping and sucking at a tender spot on your nape. 

“Needed the energy for other things,” he mumbles against your skin. 

You hum and press a gentle kiss to the scratches. Yoongi shifts his weight under you and suddenly, you can feel him—all of him—straining against his jeans. And god, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. 

You crave him in so many ways. You’re already drenched, you can feel it when you shift and move in his lap, the wetness and need in your core. But you also just want him, want to curl up in him and make a home and never leave. It’s sweet and not entirely unexpected how gentle he is. It’s nice to feel wanted for a change. It’s nice to feel revered, the way you do with him. 

That feeling is only exacerbated when you reach to unclasp your bra. For a moment, Yoongi’s hands keep the fabric in place, his thumbs still gently caressing over the silken material. But then one of the straps falls down and the cup slips a little bit. More of your skin is exposed, and he allows the whole thing to fall off. You scan his face, feeling a little self-conscious, but all you find is wide eyes and awe. You can see the flush affect his body, watch it spread up his chest and neck to tinge his cheeks darker.

“Can-can I…?” His question trails off, but it’s clear what he wants–his fingers twitch ever so slightly, his hand reaches toward you almost imperceptibly. And for a moment, nothing else matters. Your past doesn’t matter, your argument doesn’t matter, it’s all gone. The only thing left is the man in front of you, looking at you like you hung the fucking moon, asking for permission to touch you.

It’s that moment that you realize you’d give him the world if he asked.

You whisper a breathless, “You can do anything you want,” and that’s all it takes. He leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses across your chest, his hands finding your breasts. At first, he’s tentative, gently squeezing and massaging your skin like a cat. But then, he seems to get brave, kissing his way to the valley between them before choosing a side and trailing barely there kisses to your left breast. He’s gentle–everything he does is gentle–and he lets out a shuddering sigh, resting his forehead against your chest for a brief moment. You laugh a little, his warm breath tickles your skin, and your hands find his hair once again, playing with the long locks. They’re a little damp now, though you’re not sure if he’s warm from the fire or from the exertion.

You tangle your fingers in the softness of his hair, tugging ever so gently. You rock your hips slightly, and the friction between your bodies elicits a noise of pleasure from you both. You guide his face back up, kissing up his jaw until you capture his lips. You move again, and you can feel the groan rumble in his chest. Carefully, you untangle your legs from around him and stand. Your hands travel down, sliding down his chest, your nails gently raking against his skin until you get to the waist of his pants. He lifts his hips enough that you can tug the offending fabric off. His jeans and boxers pool around his ankles and he kicks them away. You take the opportunity to shimmy out of your own pants.

You return to him, your knees caging his thighs, and for the first time, you notice that he seems nervous. He’s drawn into himself. His hands are no longer actively exploring your body, but rather, they settle rather limply on your hips. His eyes are big and dark, a small pout sits on his chapped lips, and he looks… awkward. For a moment, you consider asking about it, but then, it hits you. He is nervous. He’s an angel. Notoriously, angels are pure, virtuous. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never even thought about sex.

“Hey,” you say softly, cupping his jaw and kissing him gently. You want to distract him a little, get his mind from wherever it’s gone. “You okay?”

He hums a question, his eyes finding yours after a moment, and nods. “Yeah. Just… this is new.”

“New is… good?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes your hip. “Yeah, kid. New is good. It’s… a lot. But it’s good.”

You watch him for a second, searching his eyes for signs that he’s hiding anything. The last thing you want is for this to be a bad experience, for him to not enjoy it. But his eyes are blown out with excitement and lust, and he gives you a small nod before kissing you. You hum into it, playfully nipping at his lower lip. He laughs and pinches your side before his hands start to wander again, one coming up to cup your breast, his thumb ghosting across your nipple. It sends shivers through your body and causes goosebumps to appear across your skin. He smiles when he sees your reaction, leaning forward to place a kiss just above your left breast.

Carefully, you reach between your bodies, finding his cock on touch alone. He’s painfully stiff. You hadn’t let yourself notice it until now, too concerned with whether or not Yoongi was okay, but you take the time now to appreciate him. He’s heavy in your hand, a noticeable vein running along the underside. Slowly, gently, you move your hand around him, running your thumb across the slit, collecting the beads of precum that had started to leak out and spreading it along his shaft. You barely get two pumps in before his hips are stuttering, his eyes fluttering closed as he lets out a soft moan. Very quickly, he’s reduced to a breathy, squirming mess. You can tell that he won’t last and you let him go, trailing kisses along his jaw. His hands slip down your sides, and when his fingertips brush against the fabric of your underwear, he whines.

“Take these off,” he mumbles, trying to paw them away. You raise up a little, your attention almost fully on that spot on his neck just above his clavicle, and he slides your underwear off your hips. You easily untangle yourself from him to stand and let them fall the rest of the way off, and much like Yoongi’s jeans and boxers, you kick them out of the way. 

You climb back into his lap, and pull away, both satisfied with the mark you’ve made on his skin and wanting to check in with him. His dark eyes meet yours and nods ever so slightly, his breathing already heavy. You take his cock in your hand and line him up with your entrance, dragging the tip through your folds to make things easier. You’re so wet that sinking down onto him, despite his girth, is easy. He gasps and you move slowly, easing yourself down until he’s completely buried inside of you. The feeling is strange and intimate–stretched but not painful, full but not overly so–and you fight the urge to lean down and kiss him.

“Holy shit.” He lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling against the back of the couch. It strikes you that this is the first time you’ve ever heard him swear. “Give me a second.” And you do. You still as much as possible, letting him get used to the feeling. It takes a moment, but eventually he nods and you begin to move.

One hand buried in his hair, the other lightly clinging to his shoulder, you slowly roll your hips. Yoongi lets out a heavy breath, swearing quietly. His eyes never leave your face but his hands roam, coming up to squeeze your breasts, gripping your hips, dragging up your sides. It’s cute how much he seems to crave that skin-on-skin contact, even now.

When you start to bounce, he practically loses his damn mind, his eyes fluttering half-closed. He groans deeply with every stroke you make, the sound rumbling in his chest and into your core. His chest rises and falls quickly, and you can tell he’s already starting to get close. Even still, he’s looking at you. 

It’s weird. With Dawoon, you would have felt like he was judging you, trying to pick out any sort of imperfection as you chase your high. But with Yoongi, you feel like the watching is part of his pleasure, like he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, like he’s worshiping you and your body.

You alternate like that, bouncing and rolling your hips, changing speeds based on how it feels for you and how he reacts. It doesn’t take long for him to start to squirm a little. He squeezes your hip tightly and lets out a little whine.

“Pressure,” he whispers, gesturing vaguely to his tummy.

You nod. “That’s good,” you encourage, tugging slightly on his hair. He groans. “Tell me when it’s too much, ‘kay?”

He hums. Or, at least, you think it’s a hum. It’s somewhere between a hum and a high-pitched whine. But he nods, too, so at least it’s positive. You abandon your grip on his hair and reach down between your bodies, the tips of your fingers finding your clit easily. You chase your own high, his moans and whines a beautiful underscoring for it, and soon enough, there’s a pressure building in your core, tightening almost too much.

“Too much,” he warns, echoing your own thoughts. He’s tense, his shoulders are practically at his ears, and his eyes are squeezed shut.

You chuckle softly. “Relax,” you manage to breathe out, cupping his cheek with the hand that was on his shoulder. “You’re good, right? Feels good?”

“Yeah.”

“Just relax.” You lean in and kiss him softly, slowing your movements for the moment. “Let go if you feel it. It’s okay.”

And with a few more rolls of your hips, he’s coming undone, his face is all scrunched up and he lets out a strangled groan. You ride him through it and follow shortly after, the coil snapping and all of the tension in your body coming to an impossible head before releasing all at once. You fall down into the wave crash of your pleasure, your grip on Yoongi’s shoulder keeping you grounded.

He’s breathing heavily when you focus back in, and you can feel him starting to soften inside of you. Before you can even climb off his lap in search of a towel to clean up, the sound of a sheet being unfurled permeates the cabin. Yoongi’s wings appear suddenly, folded up behind him somewhat comfortably. He looks just as surprised as you do, and the dark flush creeps up his chest again. 

You wet a cloth and clean yourself up before returning to Yoongi, who is still on the couch. Gently, you wipe him off. He hisses at the contact, apparently still very sensitive, and you mumble a soft, “I know, I’m sorry.” 

Finally, you climb back onto the couch, curling into his chest. He holds you close, an arm around your shoulder tightly. And after a second, his wing folds around you, too, almost protectively. The feathers are soft on your skin, even the broken and damaged ones, the downy tendrils like a whisper as they settle into place. You reach out and stroke the feathers along the top ridge and the wing twitches away as Yoongi lets out a hiss.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask quickly, your hand immediately freezing mid-air.

“No.” He pulls you closer. “No just… they’re sensitive right now.”

“From…?”

He shrugs. “Probably. I’ve never...”

“Ah.” You hum and place a soft kiss to his chest.

Yoongi lets out a noise somewhere between a hum and a grunt, but says nothing else. The room falls quiet except for the crackling of the fire. It’s getting low–you’ll have to put another log on soon. But you have time, so you reach behind you and pull the blanket from where you had haphazardly draped it across the back corner of the couch earlier. You cover both of your bodies up with it and snuggle in, your head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Ever so gently, you trace part of the three angry, pink scars that run from below his clavicle to his mid-back. His skin, golden and beautiful in the light of the fire, pebbles with goosebumps, but he otherwise doesn’t react.

There are things you need to say to him, but part of you–a pretty big part–is scared. If this is going to happen, you need to be able to be honest with him. You need to feel like you don’t have to hide your feelings. 

You need to be able to trust him to not leave.

Still, you’re scared. Partly because you don’t want to dampen everything that just happened, but also because what if he does leave? You’re not sure you can take that kind of devastating heartbreak again, the kind that only comes from being abandoned and betrayed by the person you love most. You don’t have it in you to start over again, you’re sure of that.

But it’s unfair to keep it bottled up, both to you and to Yoongi, so you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your hand stills and flattens over his heart. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you can feel his heartbeat under your touch, steady and rhythmic. It comforts you, grounds you.

“Yoongi?” His name is quiet on your tongue, and for a moment, you aren’t sure that he’s heard you. His focus is on the fire, watching the flames dance in the hearth. But then, he hums an acknowledgement, his thumb gently rubbing against your shoulder, and you continue. “There’s something I need to say.”

If you were braver, you’d sit up. You’d have this conversation facing him. You’d look him in the eye as you spoke. But you aren’t brave–at least, right now you aren’t feeling very brave–and you don’t look at him at all. You can feel his heartbeat quicken as he processes your words and their meaning, but you can’t bring yourself to look up.

“I’m sorry we fought,” you begin softly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you and that I called you useless. You aren’t, you didn’t deserve that.” He stays quiet, but he squeezes you to him ever so slightly, signaling that he’s listening. “But Yoongi, I…” 

You can feel it already, the sting at the back of your eyes, the lump in your throat. You take a deep breath in an attempt to push them away. And it works. Sort of. But you continue anyway.

“When I woke up that day and you weren’t there, I was really angry. I mean, who does that? Kisses someone and just fucking leaves? God, I was so mad at you, but mostly I was mad at myself.”

“What?” You can hear the shock in his voice, and from the way he shifts, he’s looking down at you now. “Why?”

You shrug and try to bury yourself in his side, pulling the blanket up further. “I’ve already been abandoned once. I don’t think I can go through that again. I mean, Jesus, Yoon. I barely felt like I was a person. And then here you come, with your powers and your pretty eyes, and you make me feel like Dawoon was the one that lost out, like I’m…” You screw your eyes closed. You can feel the stinging growing, “Like I’m worthy of being loved. And then we kissed and then you were just gone.” It comes out small, almost imperceptibly soft. You can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve felt this vulnerable. A tear escapes, rolling down your cheek and landing on Yoongi’s chest.

It’s quiet for what feels like ages. Neither of you move. Your heart, which moments ago was full and content, is somewhere in your stomach. You resist the urge to get up and hide in the bathroom. But then you’re being tugged closer, until you’re practically laying on top of him. His wings shift, and you can feel them slide across your back. The feathers tickle a bit until they settle. You can feel how quickly his heart is beating, and when he takes a stuttering breath, you can feel that, too.

“You are,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Of course you’re worthy of being loved. Of course you are.” He sighs, and for a moment, he nuzzles into your hair. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. I never meant to hurt you, I hadn’t even considered…”

“I know you had good intentions. I’m just extra sensitive to it, I think.”

“No.” You can feel him shake his head. “No, you’re right. I should have left you a note. Or I just shouldn’t have left at all. I’ll do better.”

Like all good things, your time at the cabin comes far too soon. You’re only able to spend a few days there. You don’t have that many paid days off at work, and neither you nor Yoongi were sure just how long his powers would last. Everything you needed in the cabin, he had to somehow get. There wasn’t anything to do, really, so any type of entertainment you wanted, Yoongi pulled out of thin air. A new book, a board game, even things like snacks, he provided without complaint, despite the fact that each thing put his abilities on even more of a timer.

So, after only two days, you convince Yoongi you’re ready to go home. You aren’t–you dread the black SUV and the anxiety that Dawoon will appear at the bar again–but you put on a brave face anyway. It’s better than the fear of being stranded in your uncle’s cabin. 

Begrudgingly, you return to work. It really sucks that Dawoon has made you hate coming here. You really used to like your job. You’ve always loved the vibe and aesthetics of the bar. It’s old, almost an antique, with high tin ceilings and a dark, heavy bar backed by an aged mirror and stained glass. The clientele is an interesting mix of college-aged young adults–mostly seniors and advanced degree students, you’d guess–and people in their mid-thirties looking for a cool place to hang out that isn’t too rowdy. 

It’s towards the end of a long shift–you’d come in early to cover a late-lunch shift for one of the other bartenders–and the bar is packed. It’s dark in the bar–there’s just enough light that you can see what you’re doing and make sure that things are safe. Amy, the other bartender working, bumps gently into you in a moment when everything is quiet. You’re making a margarita and a whiskey neat for a couple of regulars at a table in the corner when she slides up beside you and leans against the speed well. 

Briefly, she turns her back to the bar and turns her head so she can’t be seen in the mirror. “There’s a guy down at the end of the bar that keeps looking at you.”

Your blood runs cold, and your head swivels to see the end of the bar she’s indicating. But immediately, you’re overtaken with another emotion, one that warms you from the inside and makes your skin grow hot. There, perched on one of the polished wooden barstools near where the bar meets the wall, is Yoongi. He raises a hand, waving ever so slightly.

Amy hums and presses close after you hand the two drinks you’d made to the server to deliver to the table. “This is new,” she notes, and you can tell she’s clocked you, can tell she’s seen the grin on your lips before you’re able to school it into something more customer service-approved. But something strikes you.

She can see Yoongi. 

Casually, you make your way to the other end of the bar, knowing full well that Amy is watching your every move like a hawk that has spotted a mouse. You pause and take a couple orders along the way, pouring a couple shots for some people and sliding an Old Fashioned over to one of the masters students who frequents the bar. When you finally get to Yoongi, he shoots you a shy smile. Out of habit, you place a cocktail napkin in front of him before you lean against the bar, your arms folded over the dark wood.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, barely loud enough for him to hear you. Suddenly, you’re struck with a thought. “Is Dawoon coming here?”

“No.” His eyes go wide and he shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to hang out.”

Oh.

“I close tonight,” you tell him with a pout. He returns it, jutting bottom lip and wide, dark eyes making him look like a sad kitten. You gesture to the bar. “Do you want anything?”

“I don’t want to trouble you.” You flash him a look that says ‘seriously?’ and he relents. “I don’t know what to order.”

You think for a second and step away to the speed well. You pour him a Jack and Coke. It’s classic, not too heavy on the alcohol, but you think he’ll like the sweetness of the soda. He watches you make it, something akin to awe in his eyes, and when you place the glass onto the cocktail napkin in front of him with a bit of a silly flourish, he claps lightly.

“I have to get back to work,” you say, and you’re genuinely sad about it. You would happily stand here and impress him with the little bit of flair bartending that you know. But unfortunately, you can see Amy at the other side of the bar making six Bloody Mary’s at once.

“I’ll be here.”

And you believe him.

It doesn’t take long to help Amy dig out. You check the time. Only a few minutes to last call. She bumps you again and nods slyly to Yoongi at the end of the bar. You can see him from where you stand at the speed well. He’s apparently brought a book, and he’s sitting there reading, his head resting against his hand.

“That’s new.” She repeats herself from earlier.

The thing about Amy is that she’s not really your friend. You wouldn’t ever ask her to hang out outside of work, and you can tell she very much feels the same. But she’s a work friend, the kind that knows enough about your personal life to vent to when you’re on a slow shift, and you know about her boyfriend and their two-year-old. You trust each other with minor oversharing every once in a while, and she knows enough about the Dawoon situation to know that this was a new–and important–development.

“New enough,” you confirm softly, and for a moment, you think she’s going to drop the subject as she gets distracted by a table of three asking to be cashed out for the night.

She returns, though, when she’s done. “He’s cute.” She says it like she’s shocked.

“He is.”

Yoongi is far more than cute, but you don’t correct her.

“You like him?” 

And suddenly, the speed well is far more interesting. You grab a rag and start to clean around it, wiping down the soda gun and sopping up where the liquid had oozed out of the nozzle during a particularly busy moment. Of course you like him. But you’re concerned about where the questioning is going. And truthfully, you’re not sure how to answer much more about your relationship. Amy laughs but thankfully drops the subject. Instead, she checks her watch and announces last call.

The next half-hour goes by in a blur of serving final drinks and cashing out tabs. You almost forget Amy’s questioning in the chaos. By the time the lights are up and the last patrons are filtering out of the door, you’re in the back, chatting with the kitchen staff and putting glassware into the dishwasher trays. Amy brings a bus tub of dishes and drinkware back, and when she grins at you, you know she never actually dropped the subject. She was just biding her time.

“He’s still out there,” she reports as if it’s scandalous.

You nod. “He probably wants to walk me home.”

“That’s sweet of him.” She offers you a genuine smile, and you forgive her for all her needling. “You do like him, then?”

“Obviously.” It’s exasperated, and you’re very much reconsidering forgiving her.

“Good. You deserve someone that’s sweet.” And just like that, she’s gone, flipping the rinsed bus tub over so it can dry and stepping through the swinging door into the bar. 

It only takes you a few minutes to finish putting the trays into the dishwasher and start the load. You join Amy behind the bar and start to wipe down the well when she bumps into you and nods to where Yoongi still sits at the end of the bar.

“Poor thing seems a little gone,” she says quietly, nudging you out of the way and silently encouraging you to go check on Yoongi.

You grab a rag and make your way over. He’s not facing you, but he’s the only one in the bar, and you can tell that he’s feeling what little alcohol you’d given him. He’s humming quietly and leaning back against the edge of the wooden bar. He’s playing with his own fingers, but his focus is on the big window and the street. You slip through the hatch in the bar and stand beside him.

“I’m watching.” He means to whisper it, but it’s very much not a whisper. 

You loop an arm around his back and he leans into you ever so slightly. “What for?”

“Dawoon.” You stiffen. But then he continues. “I can’t feel him anymore. I don’t know if it’s because…” He trails off, but you can assume how the sentence was going to end. 

Because his powers are waning.

“I won’t let him in, though,” he concludes, sharp eyes never leaving the window.

You squeeze his shoulder. “I just have to finish cleaning up the bar and then we can go.”

“Nah,” Amy’s voice cuts across the bar. “You kids get outta here. I just have to finish wiping down the bottles and lock up.”

For a moment, you want to argue. It’s not fair to make her clean your well. But then Yoongi wobbles a little on the barstool trying to crane his neck to look outside and you decide to accept her generosity. “I’ll cover you the next time,” you tell her. 

She waves you off. “Go have fun. Be young.”

You roll your eyes–Amy is barely two years older than you–but you’re already shrugging into your coat. Yoongi’s coat–or, your coat, you suppose, since you haven’t had time to buy him one yet–is hanging on a hook nearby, and you hold it up for him to slip into. You make eye contact with Amy, just to make sure that she’s sure it’s okay for you to leave. She nods and shoots you a warm smile.

“I’ll lock the front for you,” you tell her.

She waves, and her tone is finite when she bids you goodnight.

Outside, you slip your keys back in your coat pocket. Yoongi stands off to the side, his eyes on the street. It’s snowing, and small white flakes are starting to gather in his hair already. When you walk, he falls into step beside you silently and stumbles, though you aren’t sure if it’s from a slippery part of the sidewalk or from the alcohol. You loop an arm around his regardless, and you begin to walk arm-in-arm.

The quiet of four in the morning is peaceful. Snow falls around you, the flakes growing from small and dainty to fat clumps as you make your way home. There’s almost no one else out at this time. Just a few people rushing to their early morning jobs, a few people rushing home. You don’t envy the early birds. Waking up at three in the morning is a lot different from going to bed at six. 

Most of the houses along your route home are dark. They’re small, like your own apartment, with almost no space in the front between the brick of the building and the sidewalk. A few, though, have a small front patio. You know that in the summer, they’re usually filled with plants or heavy outdoor furniture. Now, though, they’re filled with snow. You pass one that has been cleared out fairly well, and beside the steps leading up to the front door stands a medium-sized snowman.

You turn down the next street, and you both slip a little in the snow. You gasp, but Yoongi giggles softly, and he has a surprising amount of coordination to keep you both upright. You lean into him gently as you get your balance again and calm your heart, and your arm slips from where it’s tucked around his own to holding him around the waist.

“Question,” he says when you start walking again. You hum in response. “Why are humans obsessed with snowmen?”

The question catches you off-guard. “What?”

“You humans love these frozen persons. Why?”

You shrugged. “Honestly?” He nods. “No idea. I read somewhere once that snow was the cheapest art supplies back in the day and if given the chance, people will make art.”

“But why the vegetables?’

“You mean the carrot noses?” Again, he nods. “Practical, I think. Carrots are cheap.”

“And you dress them.”

“Well sure, they can’t be naked.” Yoongi chuckles. Carefully, his arm snakes around your shoulders, and he pulls you closer. You hum. He’s warm.

You’re excited to snuggle up under a blanket. Your hands are numb, and you know that the pink that’s tingeing Yoongi’s cheeks is reflected on your own face. It’s weird, hearing the wet slopping of both of your steps. You’re still not used to him walking–you’re more accustomed to him floating everywhere. But his powers have been unpredictable since that night in the cabin, and it’s easier–and safer–for him to conserve his energy. Even escalating things with Dawoon is on pause. He says he still has enough for the smaller things, but nothing more.

Something catches your eye when you’re almost to your front door. You pause and turn, untangling yourself from Yoongi in the process. Something’s off about the street, and it takes you a second to figure out what it is.

The black SUV is gone. 

For a moment, you stand there, stunned into silence. The SUV is gone. What does that mean? Has Dawoon given up? Was it even Dawoon to begin with? Your mind swims with questions you don’t have answers for. A warm presence pressing closer to you draws you out of your thoughts, and you look to the side to see Yoongi’s focus on where the SUV had been parked. He’s quiet as he stands there shoulder to shoulder with you.

“I… I want him to burn,” he says softly. “For everything he’s done to you. I wish I could’ve done more.” His head falls, and he shrugs. “I guess that’s not very angel-like of me.”

“Maybe not, but…” 

Suddenly, you’re feeling overwhelmed. You’re unable to finish your sentence, your mind is blank. All of your nerves feel like they’re on fire, but it’s not… it’s not bad. It’s strange. You haven’t felt like this in a very long time. You pull Yoongi closer, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Once again, you have the strongest urge to curl up inside him, to make a home beneath his skin. Anything to be as close to him as possible. And when his arms wrap tightly around you, you can only hope that he understands what you mean.

Thank you for being there for me.

You make me feel like a person.

You’ve helped me feel normal again.

I love you. 

The sharp crash of a glass hitting tile jolts you out of your focus. The tv show you were watching is forgotten as you jump to your feet and rush into the kitchen.

“Yoongi?” You call out to him, worried. He’s standing in the middle of your kitchen, leaning against the counter. Shards of glass are scattered at his feet.

He sucks a breath in through his teeth, clearly struggling. “Watch your step, kid.” His grip on the countertop is like iron, his knuckles white with effort. There’s a definite grimace on his face, like he’s in pain.

You sweep up the glass quickly, using a wet paper towel to get the tiny bits. Yoongi barely moves, but you can hear his labored breathing as you dump the glass in the trash. “Did you step on a piece? Are you hurt?”

Yoongi shakes his head and takes another harsh breath. “My back feels like it’s on fire, what’s-”

“Oh my god!”

Your shock causes him to freeze. How you hadn’t noticed it before now, you aren’t sure. But the back of his white t-shirt is slowly soaking through with blood, like someone stabbed him. You rush to grab something, anything to help staunch the bleeding. He’s sitting at the table when you return, his chest against the back of the chair so you can look without obstacles. 

You help him take his shirt off. It’s difficult–at this point, it’s sticking to him from all the blood. You throw it in the sink to deal with later and wet a towel to try to clean his back off before you bandage it. As soon as the cloth touches his skin, Yoongi hisses in pain and you’re taken back to weeks ago when he’d shown up on your doorstep after the demon attack. This time’s different, though. This time, his blood is red.

“Just a little more,” you tell him softly, cleaning his back as best you can.

Now that you can see what’s wrong, you struggle to comprehend it. There, just below his shoulder blades, are  two jagged holes in his flesh. Thankfully, they’re already healing on their own, but it’s slow. Slower than it had been during the demon attack. You get the sense that the wounds had been much deeper, that if you’d actually looked at them a few minutes ago, you may have been able to see bone, but at least now, things are stitching themselves back together a bit. There’s a divot, though, in each wound, and it suddenly strikes you what’s wrong.

“Your wings,” you breathe, placing a square of gauze over one of the wounds. It barely covers the rough maw, but you rip off a piece of medical tape to secure it anyway.

Yoongi sucks a breath through his teeth, and for a moment, he seems to strain with something. His back goes tense, and he lets out a soft grunt. But then he deflates, a deep breath leaving him dejectedly, and he groans.

“I’m sorry.” You finish taping the second piece of gauze.

He shrugs half-heartedly. “Knew it would happen eventually.” Carefully, he spins so he’s sitting the correct way in the chair. 

“Still.” You gingerly brush his hair back off his forehead, the long locks flowing through your fingers like water. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

For a moment, you stand there silently playing with his hair. It’s soft, and his shampoo smells like peaches, and you fall into a trance of running your fingers through it. But then he shivers, and you’re reminded that he isn’t wearing a shirt. He stands, stealing a kiss on his way up, and gently pats your ass as he turns to leave. You press the medical tape firmly onto his skin as he passes you before going to the sink to see if you can salvage his bloody shirt. It’s still wet–most of the blood hasn’t dried yet–so you fill the sink with ice cold water and leave it to soak.

You wander back into the living room just as he’s leaving your bedroom. He’s put on a fresh white shirt and one of your old cardigans. He must be cold. You bump the thermostat up a couple degrees before plopping into the corner of the couch. Gingerly, Yoongi sits, too, easing back against the plushness of the sofa. Once he’s comfortable, he opens an arm and you scoot over to him. He pulls you in when you’re close enough so that you’re leaning against him, your back to his chest with his arms draped around you.

It’s quiet for a bit, the only sounds coming from the television as you both focus on the show you’d been watching. But then he shifts and lets out a hiss, and you’re worried.

“Does it still hurt?” you ask, a little stupidly. Of course it still hurts. His wings are gone. But you aren’t quite sure how else to phrase what your mind wants you to ask, so you go with the dumb question.

He shrugs, arms tightening around you. “It’s just tender. The archangels were nice enough to rip them off while I still have some strength left. At least it’ll heal before I’m out of juice.”

You hum. You hadn’t realized that his powers were running so low. Truthfully, you feel bad. This is your fault. He would still have his powers–he’d still have his wings–if-

“What are you thinking?” Yoongi asks quietly, nuzzling into your hair. “You’ve got that intense look you get.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, okay.” He chuckles, and you turn your head, your lips sneakily catching his cheek. He lets out a surprised noise and snuggles in.

Logically, you know it’s ridiculous to feel this way. You know that Yoongi’s feelings for you are a good thing. He loves you. How could that be bad? And yet, all the same, you feel guilty. He’s been forced to change so much, to abandon so much of himself. It doesn’t seem fair.

“I’m sorry about your wings,” you tell him. 

“It’s honestly not that big of a deal, kid.”

“It is, though!” You turn your body so that you can look him in the eye. Your hand comes up to cup his jaw. “It’s bad enough that they kicked you out. But then you have to lose part of yourself, too? It’s kind of bullshit.”

He smiles. It starts small, almost demure, but then it grows to big and gummy. His dark eyes sparkle, and he gives you a look that says ‘silly human.’ His hand comes up to cover yours on his cheek. “I wouldn’t change anything about it,” he says softly. “I’d give it all up a hundred times if it meant I got to spend even fifteen minutes with you.”

Your insides do an awkward little flip-flop, and suddenly, it’s like a thousand little butterflies have taken flight inside of you. God, he’s…

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t help more with Dawoon.” Yoongi sighs, and he squeezes your hand. “Didn’t really get to ruin him, did we?”

No, you hadn’t. It had been the whole reason you’d sought him out in the first place. Personal and professional ruin. Just like Dawoon had done to you. You’d been so mad when you’d found Yoongi under the el that day, so full of rage and hatred. And then when Dawoon had ambushed you at the bar, you’d been terrified and angry all over again. But what about now?

“I still haven’t paid you.” You shrug. “So we can call it even, I guess.”

He hums, and you can tell that he isn’t satisfied. His dark eyes swim with something unintelligible, and you’re struck–not for the first time, certainly not the last–by how beautiful he is. Even with a slight frown on his pouty lips, he’s angelic, no matter what the archangels think. You kiss his cheek softly before snuggling back into his chest, your focus shifting to the television. 

Your hand slips under his cardigan to rest against his hip, your fingers toying mindlessly with the hem of his t-shirt. It’s peaceful. He smells nice, like the peach of his shampoo and something spicy you can’t identify–he no longer smells like the fires he used to spend time around. 

Almost no time has passed when Yoongi fidgets slightly, his arm tensing and untensing around you. “Is your back bothering you?” you ask, sitting up a bit so that less of your weight is on him. For a moment, he looks uncomfortable, but then he shakes his head. You can practically see the gears turning in his mind as he thinks. “What’s wrong?”

“We could go somewhere,” he says quietly, dark eyes cast downwards, away from you. “Away from Dawoon. So you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

You’d be lying if you said you’d never considered it. Packing up your things and going somewhere Dawoon would never be able to find you had, at one point, been a dream of yours. You’d been so scared and so angry for so long that it seemed like the best option. Remove yourself from the equation. Start over. Find happiness in a city far away from all of your problems and heartache. 

But leaving seems a lot like giving up. And you like your life here. You like your apartment, even though it’s a little small. You like working at the bar. Amy is a good person, and the guys that work in the bar’s kitchen might not be your friends, but they’d give you the shirt off their backs if you needed. You like the city, like the atmosphere. You went to college here, spent your entire young adult life here. And sure, some of your worst memories and moments happened here, but you aren’t willing to give up on all that just because of stupid fucking Song Dawoon.

“I don’t want to leave.” Gently, you cup his cheek and guide him to look at you. “Fuck Song Dawoon. I’m tired of letting him ruin my life.” Yoongi’s eyes widen, eyebrows disappearing somewhere into his hairline. “I’m happy. You make me happy. You’ve done more for me in three and a half months than almost anyone has ever done for me. I love my life. I love you. And if Dawoon wants to take that from me, he’s going to have to try really fucking hard.”

You feel Yoongi inhale sharply, watch as the blush creeps up his neck to his plush cheeks. And really? You’d kind of been talking out your ass. But now that you've said it, all of it is true. 

You’d been here once before, sure. But Dawoon showed you who he really was. You’d given Yoongi opportunities to walk away, to get mean right back at you, but he never had. He’d always come back to you with care and gentleness. Dawoon could burn in hell for all you care, you’re done giving him even a passing thought. He didn’t matter. Not anymore. The only thing that mattered to you now was the man sitting beside you and the strange little life you’d started to build together. A life built on respect and love and kindness.

His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer, impossibly closer, and he places the softest of kisses against the side of your head. “Hell yeah.” He says it softly, mumbles it into your hair. “I��m proud of you, kid.”

You might not know what the future holds, but you’re certain that with Yoongi at your side, things will be okay.

Fallen Masterlist

If you’ve stumbled across this fic and you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts! I love hearing from y'all and when you send your thoughts and opinions in the comments or in a message, it makes me happy!

[stxrvel]

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.