#it was kind of drawn as in a future au where they could be amicable and radi would sing for grimm since she's the reason his voice is rough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jincherie · 7 years

Text

warmth | namjoon

↠ written for the KreativeWritersNet au bingo! ↞

↽pairing: Namjoon x reader ↽genre: fluff, drabble, demigod!au, demigod!Namjoon, roommate!au ↽words: 3k ↽rating: sfw ↽notes: this ended up being so much cuter than I thought wtf

Even Cupid’s son needs a break every now and then, but Namjoon’s trip to the human world brings about more realisations than he intended.

↼posted; 07.01.2018

↼Masterlist | Bingo Masterlist

Namjoon, for the most part, got along well with his father.

He was the infamous God of Love— Cupid, and maybe even Eros, as some people knew him— and he had a way of drawing people in. There weren’t many people to exist that disliked his father, although Namjoon was sure his mother had certainly come close at some point. Apparently there were many times when she was fed up with his shenanigans— she was only human after all, and understandably unaccustomed to sudden take-offs in the middle of the city for a romantic evening flying through the sky. Namjoon did admit that his father’s courting methods were perhaps a bit odd, but at the end of the day his mother still loved him, as did most other people he met. He had that air around him, that friendliness and amicability. He was likable. And Namjoon liked him.

But sometimes, he couldn’t agree with him.

The way his father worked, he acted as a catalyst. He set things in motion, prompted events and inspired action. A shot of his arrow could leave a human pining for another, could push them off the precipice and into the depths of love and admiration. He’d assured him many times that he didn’t just go shooting people willy nilly— each shot happened for a reason, each love inspired by the touch of his arrow predestined and planned before the human ever came to be by the fates— but still, something didn’t sit right with Namjoon.

The humans had free will for a reason, and he believed it was wrong to ‘make’ them love. To him, loving someone was big— it was something someone should have the right to choose for themselves. He’d argued with his father many times about it— “We shouldn’t be deciding for them who they fall in love with!”— but his father would always remain steadfast in his actions and beliefs— “We don’t choose, Joonie. Everything that happens in this world aligns with the plans the fates have for us.” – and at the end of the day, they would always reach a stalemate. Namjoon was a reasonable man, but it was wearing on him.

It was such an argument that he’d just come from, and frankly, he needed a break. It had gotten to the point that it was too vexing to train and study beneath his father when his beliefs differed so vastly. It frustrated him; he didn’t like being upset with his father but he couldn’t change how he felt. Ultimately, he’d decided he needed a break, and when he’d told his father he was leaving for the human world for a while to take some time for himself, he hadn’t stopped him.

Which led to where he now found himself, outside the door of some human, with a rumpled, creased flyer in his grasp. Roommate wanted, it read in faded ink, the number and address printed beneath in smaller font. He needed a place to stay while in the human world after all.

As he listened to the footsteps of his possible future roommate approach the door, he could only hope that he wouldn’t need to look any further for a place to stay, and that they were someone he would get along with.

x x x x x x

His roommate was… frustrating.

When you’d opened the door a week ago and shot him the brightest smile he’d ever seen—your clear, pleasant eyes creasing happily and warmth seeping into his chest as a result— he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, this was going to be fine after all. He took the tour of the house, becoming more and more charmed every minute yet maintaining a polite emotional distance, and had signed the form agreeing to be your roommate without a second thought.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realise the mistake he’d made, however. He’d come home not even a day after moving his meagre belongings in to find you perched on the couch, popcorn in your lap, as a movie he knew all too well played across the tv screen.

“I didn’t take you for the type to enjoy Love Actually,” he remarked with raised brows, hanging his coat up and slipping his shoes off.

You turned from the film, eyes bright, and shot him a grin. “Oh, I adore it!” you gushed, slipping a piece of caramel popcorn into your mouth. Your cheeks were a peculiar shade of rose, whether from your happiness or the fluffiness of the movie you were watching, Namjoon didn’t know. “The way everything is linked together, all the love, the idea that things are meant to be…. I’m a hopeless romantic.”

You’d let out a sheepish chuckle, turning back to the movie, and Namjoon felt a peculiar sense of disappointment make itself known in him, edges tainted with frustration. He’d come to the human world to get away from the nonsense his father spouted, yet here he was… roommates with a girl who believed the very same things. He sighed, so softly you didn’t notice, enraptured in the romance before you as you were, and made his way to his room, closing the door gently behind him.

He’d already signed the form, and he didn’t intend on leaving, but he certainly wasn’t pleased with the situation he found himself in. He’d just have to bear with it, he supposed. You weren’t that bad after all, even if you were a romantic fool.

x x x x x x x

Bearing with it became a lot easier when Namjoon discovered your other tastes in reading and films.

It had been a cool summer evening when he’d knocked on your door. He was about to go get some groceries and felt inclined to ask if you needed anything. Even if your views didn’t exactly align with his, you were still polite to him, kind even, and he always prided himself on his manners and the way he carried himself.

“Come in,” your voice carried through the door, music reaching his ears softly but not clear enough for him to discern. He opened the door, handle cool against the heated skin of his palm— being a demigod, the offspring of an immortal and a mortal, meant his body ran hotter than most, always thrumming with the power running through his veins— and was surprised to see you reclined against the headboard with crossed legs, a very familiar book in your hands. You looked up as he entered and shot him a bright smile.

Namjoon forgot everything he’d initially come to say. “You’re reading Demian?” he queried, eyebrows raising slightly. You laughed, and his cheeks flushed as he realised how shocked he’d sounded.

“It would appear so,” your tone was teasing, eyes warm as you placed the book on the bed face down, turning your attention completely to him. He could feel his cheeks reddening further as you teased him, an heat unnatural even for him setting over his face. “You’ve read it?”

For a moment, he completely forgot why he’d even knocked on your door in the first place. He found himself leaning forward eagerly, a smile slipping onto his face. He voiced his confirmation, a list of what piqued his favour most about the book tumbling easily from his tongue. You sat eagerly, listening and providing your own insight and analysis, and Namjoon found himself becoming more and more drawn into you with each word that passed your lips.

When he queried what other fiction had caught your eye, you referred him to the bookshelf behind him, and he was pleasantly surprised to see more titles he knew and enjoyed himself. Original intention in visiting pushed far from his mind, he lost himself in the depths of conversation with you, his mind being stimulated by conversation in a way it hadn’t ever before. You talked yourselves deep into the night, and when he finally retired to his own room, a pile of recommendations in his arms,

The longer he lived here with you, the more facets of your personality he discovered. With each day that passed he learnt a little more, and fell a little deeper into the anomaly that was you. The presence of heat over his cheekbones became a regularity, the smile that slipped on his face at the sight of you a constant. Your views no longer mattered so much to him— he was far too entangled in discovering every piece of you to be bothered by your idealistic notion of romance.

And it was this very ideal you held, your view of love that you placed on a pedestal so, that had gotten you into so many instances of hurt.

When he answered his phone that evening, he hadn’t expected it to be you, and he absolutely hadn’t expected you to invite him to the cinemas. Namjoon hadn’t met your friends, but he had a feeling that if he ever did he wouldn’t like them. It seemed like they did nothing but set you up on date after date, such a lack of thought and care present in choosing the candidates that each time you left the house prettied up and beaming as radiant as the sun for a date it was almost certain you would return heartbroken and alone. Whether they stood you up or just hadn’t clicked, in his time with you Namjoon was sure he had witnessed them all. Despite his initial resistance, the two of you had quickly but surely become friends, and Namjoon could safely say he wasn’t a fan of seeing his friends hurt by the actions of others.

So when he heard your voice over the phone, a slight waver present behind your cheery tone that hinted at much drearier emotions welling within you, he agreed without a second thought and before he knew it he was walking up to the entrance of the cinema several blocks away. He’d mulled on your situation a thousand times over, how you could still be so hopeful and optimistic, hold such faith in fate that it would bless you with love you were meant to feel some day, when all you’d been faced with was heartbreak and disappointment. He didn’t understand it; didn’t understand how you could simply let it go, shrug it off and keep on hoping. He didn’t understand how even with all of the evidence contrary to your view, nothing ever seemed to shake it.

When he found himself standing beside you, and you spun to face him with a blinding grin despite your watering eyes, he couldn’t understand how anyone could have ever stood you up. Dressed in a colour that made your eyes pop, your hair styled nicely and makeup enhancing all your best features, he was sure you were the ideal date, and although he’d never admit it the very sight of you had a peculiar warmth blooming in his chest, his heart skipping a beat. Oblivious to his inner monologue as you handed him the ticket that should have been for your date of the night, you’d looped your arm through his and grinned up at him, tugging him into the theatre. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to resist you.

What was normally an occurrence that would result in you wallowing in your heartbreak, you’d turned into a lovely night out. Namjoon spent the night with you, happy to help lift your mood however he could, and along the way found he was enjoying himself more than he ever had with anyone before. Hushed whispers throughout the movie, soft chuckles as you made a joke that tickled his humour too much for him to stay quiet in the almost bare cinema, and greasy, indulgent dinner afterwards where you both talked to your hearts content about the things that interested you most. Namjoon didn’t think he would ever stop being fascinated by you.

He regarded you fondly, with the type of affection that snuck up on him and left him unawares until one night, as you enter the apartment after your later shift at the restaurant, his favourite dish in an airtight container under your arm, and shot him that beautiful smile he’d come to regard as a staple in his routine, it smacked him in the face. All of a sudden the thudding of his heart caught his ears, thoughts drawn to the heat in his cheeks and the sudden clammy nature of his palms, and he was drowning in the realisation that you were meaning something to him, something much more than he’d ever intended or even thought to conceive.

He didn’t have time to ponder it— you were there, and you were serving up the meal you’d put aside just for him— because you knew, you knew it was his favourite— and you were grinning up at him with such unadulterated content and fondness for him, he couldn’t do anything but take the plate and the fork and offer you a blinding grin of his own in return. He brushed the thoughts swarming his mind aside, tried to calm his racing heart and maybe pretend that what he thought— didn’t want to think—was happening, wasn’t happening.

Because acknowledging it would throw everything he believed in to the ground.

He managed to last a month.

Each day he denied himself, denied the burning urge within him and the realisation that had prompted it, was a day that he spent growing weaker and weaker against you. Without fail, you drew him in, even when he tried his best to resist, to pull away, to pretend you hadn’t come to mean so much to him. Something about you called to him, reached deep into his soul and attached itself firmly to the centre of his being. He knew he couldn’t keep it up for much longer, knew he was playing a losing game and one day he would truly lose himself in you, but until then he did everything he could to resist.

And in the process, he didn’t notice he was drawing you in too.

The day you left for your first blind date in weeks, was the day he experienced a certain flavour of heartbreak on his own. Watching you leave through the front door, looking the very picture of perfect and eliciting such a strong yearning within him that he had to physically step back, he could hardly manage to bid you farewell. The smile you had offered him before leaving out the door had a different tone, a saddened tone, and he didn’t have time to wonder why before you were out of sight and the door closed before him, handle already growing cold in the absence of your touch.

So even the handle could miss your warmth, he pondered. He needed to face the emotions stirring within him, but to do so he needed to admit to himself what he’d realised one long month ago. And he couldn’t. He was scared.

For so long he’d felt the way he did about love, about how his father operated and the notion of fate. It was so firmly entrenched in who he was that at the prospect of acknowledging that might have been wrong and losing that part of him, he was terrified. Who would he be if he didn’t feel the way he did before? He’d changed, become a different person before he’d even had a chance to notice the transition, and he was clinging desperately to the last traces of who he used to be.

He was scared, because losing that part of him, letting it go… he’d be alone. What was he supposed to do with this new version of himself once he admitted his need, his love for you?

He didn’t get to ponder anymore, because there was a sudden noise at the door. A jingling of keys, a symphony of metal against metal so familiar to his ears, and suddenly the door was swinging open and the catalyst of his transformation stood before him once more. He opened his mouth, a query on the tip of his tongue, but you beat him to any response.

One step forward, two, three— he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you approached until you were right before him and lurching up, eyes fluttering closed at the feel of your soft petal lips against his and the passion behind them. His hands came to your waist, clutching you close, so close, and your own came to cup his face with such tenderness he felt his heart physically ache.

On the breath that filled his lungs as you parted was he intoxicating scent of you, and his eyes met yours as you pulled away, shooting him the smile that had won his heart so long ago. “Y-your date—” he managed to stutter, mind an incoherent mess but his heart thrumming and so alive within him he could hardly speak.

“I had a realisation,” you said, fingers tapping against his cheeks. “Why am I going out to find love, when I’ve already found it, and its waiting for me in my very own home?”

The smile that split his cheeks took you but surprise, but the kiss he planted upon your lips after surprised you even more so. He was warm, so, so warm, and you could feel the heat enveloping your own heart as he kissed you with all the fondness and love you’d ever yearned for.

Wrapped in the touch and feel of you, he realised that perhaps maybe it was ok to have been wrong all along. The way he was drawn to you, the way he had fallen so naturally in love with you, had happened before he’d even realised he’d slipped so far— and it couldn’t have been anything but fate.

But even so, as he entwined his fingers in yours and tugged you close, Namjoon was sure that even if fate hadn’t orchestrated your paths, he would choose to love you over, and over again.

3K notes · View notes

goldenscript · 7 years

Text

the taste of ambrosia (among other things)

pairing: min yoongi | reader genre: kiki’s delivery service au / fluff word count: 8,029 description: Min Yoongi has always been content with his life as a feline, really, it’s all he’s ever known, but he would be lying if he said he never once imagined what life was like with two legs instead of four. At least until you came along. author’s note: happy (late) 18th birthday to my majo bun aka @jungnoir! i figured i might as well write out your fantasies for jiji!yoongi, and even though this is late i hope this mini monster makes up for it. ilysm bb! <3

Desires take form in dreams, in wishes. They’re the sorts of things that cause trouble for people, because sometimes they’ll spend endless days and nights trying to get a taste. It’s akin to ambrosia—a gift from the gods above, like a nectar not just of the sweetest affirmations but the tangy bursts of tangibility. It’s there. Right in the center of calloused palms is a fallen petal from the cherry blossom tree in winter. But, that’s the thing. This is something so fleeting and so potent for the weak-hearted. It’s all hard to believe anyone can get it because as all things do, they fall.

Or, more or less, land uncomfortably.

Min Yoongi has a particularly rough landing, giving a particularly feral snarl to no one aside from the viridescent and burnt sienna expanse. He bites back the snark at the tip of his tongue as his canine companion motivates him to move forth with the prodding of a hazel-speckled paw. Not that the insufferable brat would even hear him anyway.

This isn’t the first time Taehyung ordered and (literally) sent him to do out-of-the-way tasks; oftentimes, he was out venturing the small town with a plastic bag in tow or Jimin himself to haul the wagon just to get it to the cursed, (not-so) little witch. They’ve never been anything far-fetched. Usually a root of mandrake or a sprig of baby’s breath, maybe a delivery made on his behalf, but these trips have become farther and frequent as of late with the difficulty of spells only increasing.

Of course, it’s only expected when the three of them have all been born and bred for this kind of thing.

Growing up with Taehyung prepared and primed him for a life of companionship over servitude. Throughout the years, this became more than just a contract between magical beings unlike how most people could see it on the outside. In-between the large bouts of duty came laughter over frivolous things, late nights where they poured out all their anxieties and excitements for a future so close yet so far, birthdays and holidays celebrated to its fullest effects, failed spells that have left him with a few resentments (after all, he swears his tail is hell of a lot shorter than it should’ve been after that lengthening charm), and successful spells that had Taehyung crying and him trying not to.

All of which spanned across a set of twenty-one years when he came four years after the aforementioned came into existence. Yoongi has seen him grow up and become someone that’s only gotten better at his craft with each passing year. He’s still trying no matter how hard it’s been (and they both can honestly say it’s been plenty hard).

Such a ripe, young age for that witch’s profession, but he knows his long-time friend will go places, far and untouched by others, with him and Jimin tagging right along. This is just one of those steps to help expand the young boy’s dream, where the two familiars can do things the former can’t when exams and practices run higher stakes.

During moments of stillness, the kind that comes with trekking through endless kilometers of hundred-acre woods, leaves Yoongi to his thoughts. He drowns out the quips that Jimin is yapping about, not that it’s important very much anyway. The very same contemplation of the night before resumes—this time, it’s existence.

There’s usually no set conclusion, of course, asides from the bitter fact that at some point everyone will become translucent wisps floating around the world to either take up a new form or just to engage in the lush, multicolored meadows with images on their soles touching the ground and chloroplast painting pictures on their skins. Beyond all of that, it’s hard to say much else. Maybe consider what everything is all about or if there are things one wished they could have in this life. He’s only ever considered between wanting to be human and wanting to sleep for a whole year. His motivations in its entirety come in his nature, a natural affiliation for sleep and recuperation from all the strenuous tasks given to him for sixteen years and a natural instinct that may have others consider calling him a cliché—curiosity.

He hears a lot of what humanhood is like, sees it for what it is from his very skewed perspective, and understands it only so much before his brain gets completely thrown into overdrive and he has to snap at the other person to talk in a language he can understand before he storms off to sleep off all the yearning that constricts his chest like a coil only tightening each time he tries to soothe the pangs.

Feeling so sad over something so trivial is silly. It’s childish. This is that sort of feeling one is always so certain they’ve outgrown well past their prepubescent years when all the questions and hopes are at their highest peaks. He’s come to terms with the fact that he would never be human, that his fate as a feline will be his fate from start to finish. It’s not quite so bad anyway.

He can sleep whenever he pleases for however long until he’s needed, his food is provided to him because he simply can’t reach, and he gets lots of affection just from being this furry, soft-looking creature despite how cold-hearted he really is on the inside. His life is pretty much set for him, even more privileged than most since his own quips and needs can actually be heard unlike the regulars. However, he still feels largely unhappy.

He yearns to see the world at a higher peak, to understand what two legs are like if only just to know if it’s as tiresome as Taehyung claims, and to feel love because he hears that it’s different when you’re human. Not just in who you love but in the magnitude, because love as a cat is minimal. It’s considered superficial, really. You see your potential lover, and suddenly the whole world stops—it’s akin to love at first sight, according to Taehyung. But in a way, Yoongi’s never been fond of those sorts of things.

Stepping across a fallen log, Jimin no longer yipping over something that happened in town during his last delivery, Yoongi becomes particularly immersed in his idea of love. It’s slow and steady, the kind that happens after time, leaving only more and more curiosity in its wake. To him, love is far more like the universe. A place of wonder, of vastness, and of understanding that make take ages to comprehend but it’s that effort that really culminates it well past infatuation and into actual, wholesome love.

He’s certain that the right one comes by chance, by some circumstance that changes his whole world. Perhaps out of humanity, he just wants to be able to love someone as much as they love him, and to finally taste the rarity of ambrosia that so many have just once, if not twice. If only—

“Yoongi!” Jimin’s voice sounds exasperated, his snout nudging Yoongi’s back leg. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Looking at his friend with a scoff falling passed his lips, he asks, “No, ‘course not! I’ve had you drowned out since we landed. What do you want?”

“We’re here!” He follows Jimin’s snout, catching a glimpse of the cream-colored cottage. The mariana blue shingles on the top are U-shaped, almost like the poorly-drawn ruffles Taehyung used to make during arts-and-crafts but not as grotesque. The windows are screenless without the blinds drawn, only faint outlines of its contents to be seen as the two of them drew nearer.

The surrounding air dances with hints of vanilla and very faint traces of cinnamon, a very low humming emitting from the amicable home, even Yoongi finds his interest piqued. It’s almost like Taehyung’s with the homebody atmosphere a major staple for a witch, it’s the sort of place that makes you want to curl up into a ball and nap by the windowsill, maybe even drink tea by the porch just to get lost in their thoughts. It’s a comfortable place, it’s… well, it’s like back home. Even the small puffs of smoke floating away from the chimney has the pair getting closer and closer.

Patches of grass and peeks of calla lilies lead the two along the pathway, steps so careful not to trample on the Earth for fear that they might disturb the peace. It’s a habit, almost an involuntary action not to trip the balance in the presence of magic, where the world is at its purest. The music still continues, beckoning them forth with hearts laden in warmth and stars in their eyes, until they’re standing beneath the curved, white-frame doorway, peering inside. Starting from the dark mahogany floorboards, starting their way to their left to the well-decorated walls filled with photos of your friends and family, past the door-less entryway into what they assumed is the kitchen, on the other wall are a few pieces of art that neither of them try to decipher but there are some familiar-looking watercolor paintings, the dining room appears to be straight ahead with a large viney plant atop a table that matches the wood on the floors, and a compact, open space on the left, a large grey rug basically inviting Yoongi to lay down and nap upon.

Instead of waiting as expected, he does another quick once over ahead of him, not really straining very hard to confirm that you’re inside, before he slips inside and Jimin hastily following close behind.

He harshly whispers his name, brows furrowing ever-so-slightly from what Yoongi can see from the corner of his eye. “You can’t barge into someone’s home like

“The door was open. That’s basically inviting people inside.”

“I guess... hey!”

Yoongi continues on his way inside, finding a long corridor a little past the open space and the chimney on the far left of the dining area. It’s connected to the kitchen, a large open window where he catches a glimpse of your hair. He sees you swaying your hips and humming to the same song he heard upon entering but he can’t quite decipher where it’s from, but he doesn’t quite care to find out considering it isn’t terrible—he actually kinda likes it.

“Yoongi—!” Jimin’s voice disrupts the tranquility, earning a glare from the dark-haired feline.

“Shut up,” he glowers, recoiling onto his heels before jumping onto the counter.

Now he can see what you’re up to, throwing in sprigs of rosemary, a dash of glimmering scales, and giving the giant pot a stir. You’re donning a loose T-shirt and jeans with the same description and hair’s tied together loosely into a makeshift ponytail. He can’t tell what you look like or if you’ve noticed him or Jimin, but your back remains turned from the two of them and it makes him itch with a small inkling of curiosity, because did you look like? It wasn’t like he could tell from the photos hanging on the way, nor did he pay great, detailed attention to any of them. He just knew you had to be pretty, because Taehyung had a bit of a goofy look on his face when he talked about you (but the goof has always been a mess around other girls anyway).

Regardless, he does find out. It takes only a moment before grumbling Jimin decides that he’ll join him on the counter, recoiling onto his hind legs before giving a mighty leap. It falls short (as always), only his front paws making contact with the wood before he slowly slips down from the lack of grip and comes crashing into a heap on the floor.

It’s a loud sound that even has you jumping, causing Yoongi’s gaze to snap at his clumsy friend with a groan escaping his lips.

“You idiot, way to make an entrance.”

His paw catches his snout, small exasperated sigh sailing past his lips before he turns his body to watch you. He’s finally able to study your visage, the natural contours and the bright gleam in your eyes reminds him of the photo he saw by your doorway when you were beside Taehyung and another companion. Even when your eyes are glazed over in worry and hint of surprise, you still look at them with a smile on your lips.

A small laugh tumbles out as you place a hand on your hip, “you two do know that sneaking up on someone isn’t polite?”

“It’s also not safe to just leave your door wide open.”

You raise a brow at him, lips twitching as you state, “Well, it isn’t like many people wander around this area anyway.”

His shoulders rise, only to fall as Jimin finally pipes in: “Hello! You’re Y/N right? Taehyung sent me—my name’s Jimin—and Yoongi—over there—for stuff. I forget what it was.”

The white and hazel-colored canine looks over at him with his head slightly tilted, “d’ya remember?”

He gives an eyeroll, “Like I’d remember what that scatter brain needs.”

Jimin frowns slightly, looking at you with what would appear to be a pout to anyone else. (Yoongi knows he’s just trying not to get scolded if you’re that kind of person.) “Sorry, miss. I forget what we came for, but Tae sent us… if that helps. Heh.”

“Oh yes!” you exclaim, immediately clapping your hands before scurrying back into your kitchen. Jimin waits patiently, but Yoongi simply turns around just to watch you grab a few vials of whatever concoction you had cooking up. It has a alluring purple hue, with smoke wafting off the ladle as it slips into the glass before getting capped off by accompanying corks. There’s nothing familiar about any of them, only a hint of mint intermingled in the already too-sweet smelling air.

You return to the two of them as you place all the vials into a purple velvet drawstring pouch, setting the cargo in front of Jimin. This time he actually notices the small details like the lack of shoes adorning your feet, the loose hairs framing your face without much try, and the apron tied around your waist with one too many things all threatening to slip out of the pockets.

He doesn’t miss the dark brown wand sticking out from the largest one or the small vials and sprigs of herbs from the smaller ones. Each of them a familiar hue of a certain ability, all mashing a plethora of scents that didn’t smell like anything Taehyung tried cooking one time. They all seem to be arranged by shades, with an aquamarine shade punctuating the almost rainbow that hung precariously at the corner of the stained pocket.

He’s about to open his mouth to warn you, but as soon as your attention flits from Jimin to him, it falls and a puff of white ensues.

Of course, this is normal. Things like that always fall (mostly with the clumsy witches but they can’t help it sometimes). They’re usually those sorts of things that can sprout a flower right where it landed or even cause everyone in the close proximity to fall in love with the first thing they lay their eyes on. Simple things. They don’t usually hurt, and they most certainly wear off, but beyond the obvious uncertainty of what the vial was, what it does elicits a rush of deep pain and tingling that has him and what he can make out aside from the ringing of his ears are Jimin’s own whimpering that has him squinting through the dissipating white.

In place of white and hazel is the form of a boy with fair skin and brunet locks in disarray. If it wasn’t for his eyes, Yoongi would’ve dismissed him but he knows that damn pup anywhere and it has to be him. It’s weird to think, of course. He’s never once seen a familiar in their human form, let alone seen Jimin in his, but the years spent together even with the mask of indifference he holds so high into the sky, he can spot his friend anywhere.

It would’ve quirked a smile on his lips, if not for the sudden screech you let out as you quickly run into another room with things in hand and tossing it at the two of them.

“What the hell—” he snarls, catching what appears to be a T-shirt and a pair of fluorescent yellow shorts that could only belong to one horribly dressing boy he knew. But that isn’t what stops him short.

No, it’s the sight of milky fingers and the clench of a fist that most certainly belongs to him. His mouth immediately falls open, looking to you and then Jimin as the younger boy’s mouth falls open and his name parts the plump pink lips.

The nearest item in his mitts is a stray spoon laying off to the side, and his first action is to grab it in hopes of catching a glimpse of whatever change has come to him—well, truthfully, it was more or less to confirm that this was actually happening—and although even just grabbing it with his free hand is an odd sensation, his body acts so naturally and that makes the whole situation even more peculiar.

His heart is pounding so loudly in his chest he actually feels a hint of embarrassment as he catches a glimpse of what should’ve been a black Bombay cat but is that what he sees? No, what he sees is everything he’s only ever dreamt of in being a human—alabaster skin so smooth and supply it felt absolutely foreign and familiar all at once, hair as dark as his fur hung over his forehead with the tips kissing the lids of his eyes, and he was bare, almost positively without any form of clothing that he was used to carrying on his own back.

Compared to Jimin, who’s lean and quite built even in this form, he is thin and wiry, almost underweight if he thought back to human body standards. There were still traces of boyishness to his companion while he was a devoid of it, with traces of actual fatigue coating his visage because of this physical change.

Insteading firing questions your way, he shrugs on the clothes and flashes a lazy smile toward you and Jimin when he catches a sight of the leaking bag on the ground, “Have fun you two.”

The brunet laughs, adjusting his shirt as he waves him off. “Of course.” It sounds like a scoff, but the traces of playfulness only has the older man grinning a little more now that his back is turned to them.

“What? Where are you going?” you ask, blinking and brows furrowing. He knows he should probably stick around to hear what’s supposed to happen now, maybe even fix whatever was done, but he doesn’t want to hear it or fix it for that matter. In fact, all he really wants to do is feel the rug beneath him and fall into the void of slumber.

Glancing at you from over his shoulder, he says simply, “M’gonna nap.”

—

When Yoongi wakes by Jimin’s hand, he has to refrain from trying to bare his fangs at the latter though the small canines still manage to strike some fear. It seems that while he was out, you explained to Jimin the simple gists that this would be temporary for a few more days and that the broken vials would need to be replaced so the journey back to Taehyung would also take much longer (a week maximum). And it’s all these things that send relief coursing through his body. For once in his life, his dreams have come true.

The taste of humanity has always been fleeting and far, the sort of thing that could only happen if he pushed his subconscious hard enough and maybe manifest into his dreams. Sometimes it worked, but other times he felt the whole thing become a nightmare to watch something so close be dangled right before him, only to be snatched away like those godforsaken cat toys that Taehyung thought were funny when he was younger. Now that he has his dream in the form of reality, right in his hands like a precious gemstone, he’s more than willing to bask in its beauty and hold it tight while he still can.

Even as the tasks you entrust to him and Jimin to take care of run on a little, the bright blue hues have long since fades in shades of scarlet and peach, with the cool air settling in and the inhabitants of the forest becoming the house’s music. You’ve worked just as hard to salvage the rest of the vials for Taehyung’s upcoming project, though there are no traces of the former soot and baby hairs sticking up haphazardly. It’s obvious that despite the backfire of some of your charms, you’re still in a jovial mood.

Truthfully, even he’s actually been enjoying the use of his newfound arms and legs. They’ve grown on him now that he’s gotten the hang of them, and from what he can see—even Jimin is enjoying his new form, tiring himself out especially with the heavy lifting. He isn’t outside with either of you, instead his light snores are being muffled by the shut door of the guest bedroom.

What a shame, he thinks to himself, Jimin would love the view.

It’s peaceful sitting out back—the trees aren’t as congested around the surrounding area, giving a front-row view of the twinkling stars. Each of them stark against their dark canvas, painting pictures of Greek myths that Taehyung (and by extension, him and Jimin) once had to study with a close eye. He couldn’t pull up any of them from memory, but he always enjoyed the fact that each of the heroes and even the deities had dreams in one way or another, whether it was to maintain their status or to fall in love, they all wanted something in this life, and it made him want more too.

He lets out a soft sigh, not quite as harsh as he’s used to, but perhaps his own fatigue has set in to tame the biting beast inside him. He’s used to becoming more lax during late hours though this is a little different.

There’s a question on the tip of his tongue he never thought he’d ever utter though. Of course, he’s only ever asked Taehyung once about the matter, the younger boy sported a knowing grin and inquired why, only making Yoongi close off further discussion. It was embarrassing, even just the thought of admitting that he’s dreamt of being human makes him shudder. If his other brunet friend knew, then it’d be endless inquiries and teasing because he’s never shown any sort of romantic interest in anything besides sleep and tuna night. Honestly, the idea of Yoongi so much as wishing to be human is a little more unlikely to Jimin admitting he always wanted to eat chocolate.

But when he sits beside you, the end of your blanket covering his right side and your own body leaned close next to his, he can’t help but feel a form of contentment. Maybe it’s his defenses lowering or maybe it’s his semi-fatigued brain coaxing him to just be okay with all of this. Either way, he holds onto these reasons, because it isn’t like he felt that at ease with you anyway. (Maybe…)

He releases a soft breath. His head turns in your direction but the words don’t fall off his lips as easily as he wishes they would.

“Something wrong, Yoongi?” you ask, slowly turning your gaze from the high heavens to him.

He wants to shake his head, but he can’t seem to do that either. He doesn’t know what it is about you, whether it’s the stupid (read: adorable) look you’re giving him or the warmth you’re spreading to him, that makes him feel this weird. Normally Taehyung and Jimin are the tongue-tied fools, but the words on the tip of his tongue refuse to budge.

The corners of your lips curl and cue flutters in his chest. He just frowns, “What?”

“Are you always this shy?”

“M-me? Shy?” He wants to laugh, even if it is true.

“Well, are you?” you ask with a raised brow.

When he makes a guttural sound that is neither a snarl or an actual sound that’s more akin to what you would consider a ‘tsk,’ you nudge him and only make the sound more louder. He can’t help it. All of his reactions are involuntarily because of you, and he can’t get a handle on why exactly (but his heart may or may not already know…).

Instead of making another sound to drive you off his tail, he just grunts a negation. “I’m just trying to…” He briefly pauses before coming up with a somewhat applicable answer, “figure out how to phrase my question.”

You don’t look particularly convinced, but he doesn’t care because 1) your smile is still in tact and 2) now he feels a little less awkward about asking such a deep, soul bearing question. Because what is humanity, really? What makes a person human? And, if he, a feline familiar, is temporarily in this human form then what can he do to truly bask in this opportunity?

The answer seems so simple to just go off by example, but when he thinks back to models that pop out the most in his mind, he has to refrain from considering any of them presentable as a role model. He’d rather not take Taehyung’s words with heavy intent for one thing, or the many characters on the streets that varied between relatively kind and downright mean. The happy medium seems to be a hard find in itself, all the semantics of humanity seem so complicated and circumstantial, he feels like his head might spin right off his neck if he so much as tried to understand it all.

So, without a second thought, he goes with the sole question that has always hung precariously off his tongue with a casual drawl: “What do I do to be more human?”

The questions catches you off guard for sure, but perhaps it’s the reminder that he wasn’t actually a human by grand design that makes your features melt back into its former amusement.

“You don’t know?” He gives you a look, earning himself a scoff in return. “Well that’s one thing you shouldn’t do.”

He tilts his head at you, “What?”

You laugh, stating quite bluntly, “Be a jerk.”

He nods slowly, making a mental note to be a little nicer. (Though the last time he was on a delivery and he crossed the street too quickly, the driver far more meaner things to say than what Yoongi just said.)

“When you’re human, you should, y’know, be more… human… show empathy,” you explain, eying him with relative sternness. It’s kind of fascinating to see what else you have to say on the matter so he continues to watch you speak. “Some people may not show it, but that’s them. Those sorts of people can be jerks, but I know you’re a cool cat somewhere underneath all that hostility so I expect a little more from you.”

As you lean your visage closer to his, he can’t help but lean back in response. His cheeks respond, an encompassing warmth biting against the cool air. “H-how would I do that?”

You just grin, tone nonchalant as ever despite how close your visage seems to be. “Listen to them when they’re speaking, help them out when you know they need it, basically try to understand them.”

He’s never really had to empathize with other people. For him, his tasks were often straightforward and to the point so it didn’t leave much room to dilly-dally. Always get from Point A to Point B in X amount of time. Plus, being with Taehyung and Jimin always left free time spent together rather than off in different areas doing whatever there was to do.

This time around his next question falls past his lips in ease—

“Well, what’s the best way to do that? Understand them, I mean.”

“Talk to them!” you laugh, watching as his expression betrays the confusion racing through his head. Of course, this doesn’t stop you from positioning yourself to face him, hints of an authoritative tone laced between the casual words: “Like… well, here—we can talk and try to understand each other.”

When he nods slowly, still watching as you say with a much softer tone, “What’s your favorite color and why?”

“Black… because I like it.” When you laugh, he frowns a little,—what’s so funny about that?—“what’s your favorite color?”

You grin in amusement, though he has to fight back his own smile when he hears your response: “Green.”

He heaves out a sigh, feeling kind of alright with the fact that he’s talking to someone other than his two goofs for best friends. “Why?”

“You’ll think this is really cheesy but it’s because green is so full of life! It’s literally everywhere and I guess I just associate it with nature so being around this much green makes me happy.”

He thinks for a moment; after all, he’s trying to understand you rather than speak about himself (which would’ve been a feat anyway because there really isn’t much to say about himself in the first place), so he choose his next few words with careful consideration, “I… see. Have you always loved nature?”

“Good job!” you exclaim, giving his leg a pat. It catches him off guard but he’s kind of mesmerized by the way you’ve just brightened up underneath the moonbeams. “And yeah, i love the atmosphere. It’s cleaner than the city and a lot emptier too. Truthfully, I’ve always been okay with being alone, so this place is literally heaven to me.”

That definitely strikes him as interesting, so he lets his own instincts take over and he says the first thing that comes to mind. “You don’t seem like it… from—um—the photos.”

“I mean I love people, just not how cities seem to hurt the earth.”

“That makes sense… I hate how cities do that too.” he says, thinking back to the many time him and Jimin shared conversations similar to this. Not many people knew how badly animals—familiars, especially—could be affected by environments so he takes the initiative to explain himself. “The kind of pollution that comes in those places makes it harder to live longer and it sets us off easily.”

There’s pensive silence that ensues as you nod, digesting the information. He doesn’t feel quite as nervous now that he’s aired out some of his feelings about things. It’s a bitter reality, but as terrible as it is, he can’t help but feel a smile creep on his features as you joke, “No wonder you’re so tense. It’s all that city air.”

He pursues his lips and just rolls his eyes. “I thought you said to be human is to be nicer.”

“Well, I’m a witch so…” Without warning, he taps your forehead with his index finger. “Hey!”

This time around Yoongi just can’t contain himself or the muscles on his face, because he cracks a smile and watches as a small pout forms on your lips. It’s really cute and it kind of squeezes his heart in a nice way, but he’s certainly not going to say a word about that no matter how comfortable he’s beginning to feel around you.

“Oh hey…” you pause, staring at him.

His lips tighten up but the smile refuses to dissipate. “What?”

“You have a nice smile.”

He blushes, looking away from you because you can’t see if it you’re not looking at his face right? Who cares if it’s nighttime. He’s not taking any chances. “S-shut up.”

Despite how cool the air was that night, Yoongi felt warmer than ever from his cheeks to his chest. Sitting beside you with mugs of tea in hand put him in ease, his heart just couldn’t seem to stop beating so damn fast but another part of him was kind of (okay, really) okay with it.

The feelings are new, but he likes that talking to you and spending time with you makes him feel more human each day. And although only a few have passed, he’s grown used to being in his human form. It’s not difficult or annoying actually. He enjoys having opposable thumbs and being able to sleep undisturbed because now he can kick perpetrators out of the area and return to his comfortable warmth. Honestly, despite not being able to jump on counters without banging up a knee or squeeze into tight spaces, he actually can live without any of those things.

The remake of the potions succeeded not too long ago, maybe a day or so, prompting Taehyung to inquire about his order. You’ve long since explained the situation, only earning laughter on the other end because apparently it’s kind of expected for you to drop a thing or two more often than not. This unleashed inquiries of when either of his familiars would return, and it’s been pretty obvious that Yoongi Isn't quite ready to go yet.

“I can go,” Jimin smiles, looking between you and the former feline. “I’ve been meaning to go back to the city. I miss Tae!”

Yoongi comments dryly, though the edges of excitement feel a little hard to contain, “Don’t you mean you miss your neighbor girlfriend?”

Rouge creeps up the brunet’s visage like vines, but he remains somewhat indignant in his response. “Pfft, psh! Being home would be nice, y’know. You just stay put, maybe find out how long this will last and I’ll probably come back for the remaining potions.”

“I can just deliver them when they’re ready?”

“Nah, I know you’ll miss me so we can travel back together.”

This earns the former canine an eye roll and a feigned look of disgust. “Bye, Min.”

“Bye, Yoongi!” he grins, hugging the older man before embracing you. “You two try not to have too much without me!”

The familiar puff of smoke has the brunet materialized away back to Taehyung.

Without Jimin, Yoongi feels a little empty. He’s grown so accustomed to his company that having gone so quickly is weird. At least until you latch a hand around his wrist and whisk him off to the kitchen with a few supplies awaiting the two of you on the counter.

“You’re making me do heavy lifting?” He meets your eyes with a raise of his brow. “Do I look like that muscle pup?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose as you drag him closer. “It’s nothing you can’t handle, you lazy cat. Look! There’s just blankets and a basket.”

“For?” He tilts his head at the load with a careful eye. “A picnic?”

“I mean wouldn’t it be nice to sit out at a nicer spot than my backyard?” You can’t contain the smile spreading across your lips. “C’mon, I promise it’ll be really nice. It’s a small hike but I figured since you’ve been such a big help and becoming a really great human that we could, y’know, celebrate that.”

Between the shine in your eyes and the pout on your lips, he can’t deny you. It’s ridiculous because when he thinks about it, nearly a full week has passed since his and Jimin’s arrival in your place. And here he is, beckoning to your whim. Your growth on him has been exponential, the kind of person you are to the things you like to do and what certain topics make you feel have just slipped between the two of you with long conversation, with his observations of you, and with this undeniable desire of his to just bask in all this time with you.

He sees why Taehyung talks highly of you. The way his friend lights up at very sound of your name or reminders of you whenever the three of them go out. The brunet has many friends. So many people know him and talk to him, but you’ve always been one of those really special friends that he holds near and dear. And for Yoongi to be able to see and hear just how witty and funny you are makes him very addicted to your atmosphere.

Your aura is unparalleled, and he actually finds it very hard to believe that you don’t have a familiar because people you and Taehyung usually do. The kind souls keep theirs, so it kind of strikes as odd that you don’t.

His thoughts and your words keep him company as the two of you reach your final stretch toward this secret spot. It makes him feel elated because you admit that no one else has seen it, and that out of everyone you’ve met and come to know (despite how short) he’s the one you want to show. His grip tightens on the items you given him, his brows raised as he begins to see the forest around you two melt into an open field, bare of any trees that could hinder the sight of the twinkling stars above.

He sees why you keep it hidden from everyone else. The place is simplistic with a touch of what feels like home to him—with several other accompanying hills offering the same vantage point as this spot, but he can tell from the tall grass and the small sleep flowers surround the area that this is yours.

He smiles at you, unabashed this time. “It’s beautiful.”

You grin, guiding toward the center where it’s most clear. “Thank you. I found it when I first moved here and I come here sometimes. I thought I’d take you since you’ve been really great, Yoongi.”

His voice gets smaller as he mutters while looking away, “Thank you.”

“No, Yoongi.” He looks up at you in confusion, “Thank you.”

—

There’s a particular stillness that falls between the two of them after the food’s been eaten and the incessant chatter becomes a dull hum among the chorus of branches rustling and the crickets chirping, even a few notes from the prowling owls. The starry night takes up both your attentions with the luminescence shedding light upon the scene.

You brought a battery-powered lantern, but you two decided to keep off until it was time to head back, if neither of you fell asleep right then and there. Truthfully, Yoongi would’ve. His ability to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere was uncanny and unparalleled compared to most, but the racing of his own thoughts keeps him wide awake beside you.

The obvious one is the scariest one—his human form. Of course, none of this is permanent, but the realization that he would no longer be this way makes his heart hurt. He wouldn’t be able to flash a sarcastic thumbs up or walk around on two legs. His daily tasks as a human would be done as a feline, and whether it was possible to do such things in that form was still up for debate. For him, losing this also meant losing out on opportunities he didn’t think he would have as a familiar. It’s even worse to consider losing his familial status, not because he enjoys it—well, of course he does—but if he wasn’t a familiar, then would Taehyung still want to see him? After all, did this happen with your familiar? Did yours up and leave you to loneliness?

He doesn’t realize how engrossed in his thought he’s been until you repeat his name, accompanied with a nudge of your shoulders this time.

Letting out a sigh, he cranes his head toward yours and turns back toward the stars when he realizes you’re staring at him. “Sorry... what’s up?”

“S’okay,” you say, a breathy laugh falling past your lips as you look back up at the stars. “Do you like being human, Yoongi?”

“Well, yeah,” he says immediately. “A lot, actually.”

“Has it been a dream of yours?”

Am I that transparent?

He blinks, raising a brow at you. “How’d you figure?”

“You asked me how to be more human. My old familiar did that when I first spilled that potion on someone.”

“That’s why you don’t have a familiar?”

You nod, “It’s not a big deal. I live here and do orders, as more of a pick-up place so I don’t really need a familiar to do things when I can do them myself.”

“I see…”

“Yeah, so how long has this been a dream for you?”

“A while,” he admits, a soft laugh parting his lips. Yet another question is on the tip of his tongue, threatening to fall off but he’s hesitating just a little time around. Whether it’s fear of the answer or just his own anxiety keeping him from asking, he doesn’t know but what does part his lips eases him just a centimeter. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course you can,” you smile, waiting now that he’s laid a pathway for an answer he’s kind of dreading to hear.

“I know this won’t last forever… so what’s my expiration date on this whole thing?” he asks, daring to look at you. He finds that you’re back to staring, and it makes his heart thrum just a little.

“Usually a few more days, weeks at most…” you answer, grazing over his features before you continue with one more word that he feels more hope he should. “Unless…”

His voice is soft, mind still loudly screaming at the prospect of this being a forever. “Unless?”

“Well, unless you really wish to stay human.”

He opens his mouth to say something on his mind, but as he tries to conjure up the nerve he can’t seem to really think. He knows he wants to be human. He wants it so bad. Even more than tuna night at Taehyung’s, but the golden-skin boy with the boy of haphazard brunet lock becomes apparent in the back of his mind and it leaves him feeling a little bittersweet. “...I see.”

“Is everything alright?”

He tries to scoff out a laugh, but his throat wavers just a bit. “Y-yeah, why?”

“Well, I thought you’d be more excited to know you could really be human…” you admit, trying to laugh off your own small disappointment but he doesn’t miss it at all.

“I mean, of course. I just don’t want to get my hopes up y’know?” It’s a partial lie and he knows it. You probably know it too, but you don’t call him out on it.

“Oh, I understand, but I promise if it’s what you really want then you will stay human…” you try to reassure, smiling a little at him. He feels sad to think that if he stops being human, he wouldn’t be able to share another moment like this with you. “That is what you want, right?”

He sighs and admits, “I don’t know. I’d feel bad if I left Taehyung like that, but… I really want to stay human. God,” He releases a soft chuckle. “I’ve wanted it since I was a kitten, honestly. And you made that come true, so seriously thank you for giving this to me.”

“Thank you for keeping me company,” you muse, turning your body towards him. He takes that as a cue to do the same, and when you don’t pull away from his hand on top of yours, he keeps it there. The way your index fingers interlocks with his certainly doesn’t fly past his head like he pretends it does. “You’ve been really nice to have around, and it makes me a little sad to see you go, y’know.”

They stare at each other for a while—he doesn’t say a word—rather he studies your visage with an adoring intensity laid beneath the steeled dark hues. He wants to tell you that he’ll stay human, if not for himself but for you too. He doesn’t want to miss out on any more moments like this, especially when you’re not pulling away from the way his fingers completely intertwine with yours. When you open your mouth to speak, he brushes a stray hair.

“Is there something on my face?” The half-joke falls past your lips but the deep blatancy that what presses on in his head is now or never and the small details like Taehyung can wait.

The inner him wants to smack for what he says, but it flies out of his mouth anyway in the form of a mocking scoff. “God, you’re so stupid you know that right?”

“Hey!” You laugh, giving his chest a smack with your entwined hands. “And you’re mean.”

He shakes his head, cheeks burning just a tad, “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know how to express how i feel or do these sorts of things,” he holds your hands. “But.. There’s something I’d like to try with you, because it feels right and you were the one to tell me that it’s best to do those sorts of things, right?”

You nod slowly, looking at him as he gets a little closer. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dart from his to his lips, but he’s certain you don’t miss the way his does the same exact thing to yours. “What is it?” your voice is soft, clenching his heart even tighter than before.

His nose brushes against yours, his lips hovering over yours as he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He admits, “I’m scared that if I don’t stay this way then I’ll miss this chance and I—”

“—Yes, you can,” you smile, using your arm you’ve been resting on top prop yourself upward and press your lips to his. And whatever magic feels like, that sort of calm before the storm washes over him. Like a spell, he doesn’t think of his worries or anxieties that this won’t be forever as he kisses you back. You pull back for a moment just touch the side of his face in a tentative caress, eyes searching his just to say, “I mean it, if you want to be human then you can be. Whatever else comes afterwards, it’ll work out, ‘kay?”

He nods, allowing them to sink in. “‘Kay.”

Shutting his eyes once yours do, he just lets you push him onto his back and relishing in the way you lean atop of him. Whether this bliss of humanity remains forever, he doesn’t deny that the taste on your lips of mint leaves and the fruit tart from earlier are fresh, delectable, and addictive, nor does he care if it does or doesn’t, because his dream has finally come true.

—

Eventually you two find yourselves laid atop the soft, flannel blankets, his arms wrapped around your body and your arm laid across his chest. He feels peaceful, more than he’s ever been in all twenty-four years of his existence, and it’s because of you.

“Yoongi?” you hum, tracing a pattern on his chest.

When he hums an affirmation, you tell him, “I know you’re worried about Taehyung, but I promise he’ll want you to be happy too. Plus, I can kick his butt if he’s being mean to you.”

He lets the laughter rumble out into the open air, colliding with your own and he’s reminded of the warmth from the first night you two shared together.

A thought occurs to him right then—perhaps the taste of ambrosia isn’t quite sweet or bitter, but rather split down the middle with flecks of compromise and love encompassed in between the seams. Min Yoongi has always wished to be human, to feel what two-legged creatures feel and see the world a little higher than he once did, and to finally have that, all thanks to you, is all the more better.

If anything, it’s better than any concoction made by the gods above.

#bangtan bookclub #bts writing squad #btswriters #sfwbangtan #ot7network #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts au #emswriting

414 notes · View notes