#yoongi au
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❤️🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️🩹
Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.
Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC
Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS
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Ch. 17: Emotions
Treatment isn’t easy for Yoongi. Dealing with the effects of withdrawal is one thing, but having to face his feelings head on is the hardest. He’s felt like quitting a number of times, but every evening he gets a message from Hyeri that reminds him why he’s doing this.
Hyeri had tried to limit her communication with Yoongi while he’s in treatment. She thought it was nice that they allowed him to keep his phone, but she had done a bit of online research and came to the conclusion that talking to him too much could do more harm than good. She keeps her messages down to a summary text at the end of each day. She does her best to only send positive messages. Nothing about her now daily conflicts with JJS, or how she’s been searching for a way out because they continue to treat her like she’s a troublesome burden. That stress she’s been carrying on her own.
For Yoongi, he only knows what Hyeri tells him. So in his mind she’s doing perfectly fine. She’s working hard and simply waiting for her next role. He’s happy that she’s doing well and it helps him relax more knowing he doesn’t have to worry about her.
Although he’s still allowed internet access he hasn’t spent much time looking at social media. He did once and he came across the ever vicious rumor mill spreading lies about Jimin owing a gambling debt to someone. It was so ridiculous that all he could do was laugh, but when he had his session with Minho the laugh turned to a cry.
Up until then he mostly spoke about Hyeri and himself in his sessions. That day he had to explore his feelings towards his members and that hurt him more. It was never a question whether he loves them, but he didn’t realize how much of their pain he put on himself. The rumors about Jimin were laughable, but Yoongi took it personal. He felt bad for Jimin being dragged through the mud for no reason and he felt helpless to do anything to protect him. Someone as sweet and selfless as Jimin doesn’t deserve that. None of the members do. After that, Minho suggested Yoongi stay away from socials and so he did.
Until today. While having lunch he found himself going down a rabbit hole that simply started with him trying to figure out the type of wood that was used in the construction of the cabin he’s staying in. After reading the history of log cabins around the world and the best wood for different climates, he saw a random Naver article at the bottom of the page he was on that caught his attention.
Rainbow heard arguing with manager, acting career over?
Laugh. He’s supposed to laugh these things off. He’s telling himself to laugh. He’s not laughing. He’s watching a video taken of Hyeri and he’s not laughing at all.
He knew not to click the article. He knew not to play the video someone candidly took from their cell phone. He knew better but did it anyway. The video shows Hyeri yelling at her manager in a rage. He hadn’t seen her like that with anyone other than him. The soft spoken Na Hyeri was unloading on her manager about the jobs she’s not being offered and how they keep lying to her about it. She mentions being forced to accept tiny roles for no money because they’re punishing her for telling the truth.
Last night, Hyeri had a shoot for what she was told was a commercial for a new perfume. What it turned out to be was a small budget shoot for an amateur made air freshener spray. When she learned that the shoot was unpaid, which they also lied about at first, she unleashed her rage towards her manager.
Hyeri thought they were alone. She asked to speak to her manager out back. She had no idea someone was standing by recording for some reason. Almost as soon as it happened, the video was everywhere. She’s horrified by the invasion of privacy and even more horrified that she once again finds herself the center of controversy.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, she gets a message from Yoongi today asking her what’s going on and if she’s ok. Last night when she got home after the entire fiasco, she sent Yoongi her usual text telling him she had a small shoot and that was it. Now it seems he’s seen the news and she knows he’s not too happy about her not telling him about how bad things have gotten between her and JJS.
She admits that things have been rocky, but she didn’t feel it was anything she needed to worry him about. Of course now that he knows, it’s got him more worried than if she had told him from the start. Once more her silence has caused the exact thing she wanted to avoid.
Unconvinced that she’s ok, Yoongi decides to call Hyeri. Until now they’ve only texted each other. They both agreed that it would be best that way until he’s made it through the rough beginnings of his sobriety. Today he doesn’t care about that though. He needs to hear her voice to be sure she’s ok.
“You’re breaking the rules, Yoon-gya,” Hyeri chuckles when she answers.
“I think I deserve a pass this once,” he responds relieved to hear her voice and to hear that she doesn’t seem to be in any distress.
“You didn’t believe me when I said I was ok?” She jokes.
“You tend to lie about that a lot,” he chuckles.
“Look who’s talking,” she laughs softly.
It feels like nothing has changed but at the same time it feels the way it felt when their relationship was fresh and new. They talk about anything and giggle at how cute each other sounds for about an hour before Yoongi finally asks what he initially called her for.
“So are you going to tell me about the video?” He asks.
“I hate people always invading my privacy,” she huffs.
“What’s this about the roles you’ve been getting? I thought you were working on some commercials?”
“I was. It’s just that they’re small commercials. The small kind that don’t pay,” she admits with shame.
“Hyeri…”
“I know, but I tried to stand up for myself,” she says hoping for praise. “I finally told them how the way they’re treating me is bullshit. I found roles that I wanted to go for and they got upset about it.”
“I’m proud of you,” he says. He knows opposing anyone is hard for her. For her to stand up to JJS after she had been so complacent before is a big step. “You don’t even sound like you’ve been crying,” he jokes.
“I’m not the same Hyeri I used to be,” she chuckles. “But….” She trails off not finishing her sentence.
“But?”
“I’m still a little…scared I guess.” She didn’t want to admit to that. She doesn’t want him worried about her, but they had been having such a good talk that she was about to release her troubles to him out of habit. He’s her best friend and she had been holding her fears in since she couldn’t tell him. Now it’s out there and she knows he’ll try to pry every feeling out of her in an attempt to understand, comfort, and fix every issue.
“Scared of what?” He asks.
“Everything. Losing everything. JJS isn’t going to treat me right so I need to leave them, but then where can I go?”
“Have you been looking around?”
“Yeah, but what if I’m rejected by everyone? What if this is it for my acting career? I could go back to music but you know acting is my passion.”
“Baby, I’ve told you I can get you in contact with people. Anything you need. You don’t have to try to do this on your own.”
“But I can’t have you help me,” she sighs. “Not right now at least. You need to focus on you.”
“I’m doing fine. Let me know what company you want to go for and I can find a contact and get you in touch.”
“Yoongi stop.” This is exactly what she knew he would do and exactly why she didn’t want to say anything. “I mean it. I’m scared but I’m not completely helpless. Please focus on your recovery and don’t worry so much about me.”
“I know,” he groans. “It’s just hard when I’m away.”
“What’s going to convince you that I’m fine?”
“I don’t know,” he huffs. “If I could see you or…hold you…”
“I just need you to trust me. If I’m not ok I’ll let you know.”
“Will you?”
“Of course. I promise. I just need you to trust me. Trust me and keep taking care of yourself. Can you promise me that?” She pleas.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I promise I’ll take care of myself. I promise I’ll be better so I can see you sooner. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. Don’t worry about me.”
“Can you at least promise me you won’t keep things from me anymore? I know you don’t want to worry me but I think I worry more when you don’t tell me what’s going on. Whether it’s good or bad, I just want to be able to support you.”
“I know. I promise, babe.”
“I love you so much, Bow.” She can’t tell but he’s suddenly holding back tears. Talking to her, hearing her voice is so calming to him. He misses her so much and though he knows this is for a better future, it still hurts to be separated from her.
“I love you too, Yoon-gya.”
Hyeri misses him just as much. Dealing with the stress JJS has had her under has been exceptionally difficult without Yoongi being there to comfort her when she feels overwhelmed. All she can do is ask herself what Yoongi would do. Every time she does she ends up in trouble or the talk of the town for a while. It’s not all bad though. She’s been walked over her whole life because she never felt like she had a voice and was afraid to speak up. Now she does and she feels good setting boundaries and fighting for herself. She fears for the future, but she at least knows she won’t let anyone walk all over her again.
Yoongi got an extra boost of motivation after talking to Hyeri. He was determined more than ever to return to her soon and healthy. He still worries about her, but hearing her voice and how she didn’t sound sad at all helped him feel better.
Minho has been helping a lot as well. Yoongi still has a long way to go, but Minho could always find a way to make Yoongi feel safe when he’s vulnerable. Each session he opens up more and he feels much lighter being able to talk about things he had been holding on to for a while.
His next session after talking to Hyeri, Yoongi is much more enthusiastic and bright. He tells Minho about their conversation and how he’s happy to be getting the help he needs so he can be the best for her, his members, and his fans. But especially Hyeri.
Only a week has passed since hearing Hyeri’s voice, but Yoongi feels like he’s made a lot of progress recently. He even sent a message in the group chat with the rest of the guys to tell them how he’s doing. He was optimistic and it was refreshing for the rest of the guys. They praised him for doing well and expressed how they can’t wait to see him again.
He’s in the middle of making himself dinner. Nothing special, just a simple pasta dish with a bit of steak. He found passion for cooking again and had been taking the time to cook each one of his meals. That’s just how motivated Hyeri made him.
He’s got his steak cooking in the pan and his pasta already in a bowl. Everything smells good and he feels great. To make things even better he gets a call from Hyeri. He hasn’t heard her voice since last week and he’s been dying to hear her again.
“Hey, babe,” he says when he answers.
“Hey,” she responds. “I wanted to call you because it would be easier than texting. I did it!” She shouts in excitement.
“Did what?” He asks confused but equally enthusiastic.
“I told JJS to go fuck themselves!” She giggles.
“You what?” He asks freezing in place.
“I’m done with them. I want to go for the lead in a super duper huge new series. It’s…maybe a bit ambitious,” she says shyly. “But I could at least audition but they tried to give me more bullshit about taking a break and being compliant so I told them to shove their compliance up their ass.”
“Wow,” he says in disbelief. She’s typically not the one to do such a thing, and certainly not when she hasn’t found another agency yet. “You really did that?”
“Yeah! I’m sick of them treating me like shit. I should’ve listened to you in the beginning and left them a long time ago.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what happens next, but I’m happy. They won’t stress me out any longer.”
“Baby, that’s incredible! I wish I could take you out to celebrate.”
“We’ll have plenty of time for that later,” she giggles. “I’m just happy to be free.”
“I’m happy too.” He pauses and thinks a moment before speaking again. “Are you at home?”
“Yeah,” she responds. “Of course I am, why?”
“I want to see you.”
“How? I mean you can’t.”
“Sure I can. I want to see you so let’s video call,” he suggests.
“What? I mean no, I think it’s too soon. We already broke the rule about not talking on the phone.”
“Just once,” he pleads. “Plus I want to show you the dinner I made.”
“I don’t know,” she hesitates.
“I’m switching to video,” he says not giving her a choice. He switches to video and waits for her to do the same. “Please,” he pleads again. “Just for a minute, baby.”
She gives in and turns the video on after rushing to try fixing herself up a bit. Her camera turns on and Yoongi can instantly see why she was reluctant to video chat.
“You’ve been crying?” He asks noticing how her eyes are just a slight bit puffy. Her attempt to hide under the shadows of the low lighting in the bedroom wasn’t enough to fool him.
“No,” she lies.
“Hyeri!” He fusses.
“I mean I’m a little scared, I told you that.”
“But you’ve been crying.”
He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her and make sure she never cries alone. He would fix all of her problems and wipe every tear. She knew he would feel this way and that’s why she didn’t want him to know she had been crying. His priority is her now and she doesn’t want it to be.
“Just a little,” she admits. “It’s a big step and the future is unknown, but I’m ok. I’ve got a few agencies that I’m looking into. Don’t worry about me, Yoon-gya, I’ve got this. I told you, I’m not the same Hyeri I was before.”
“You’re sure you’re ok?” He asks still not convinced.
“You’ll never believe me, will you?” She chuckles.
“No,” he smiles.
“What about you though? How are you doing?”
“I feel better each day. I feel better hearing your voice and seeing your face.”
“Therapy is good?”
“Yeah,” he boasts. “It’s going great.”
That’s the truth, Yoongi has been getting better each day. He makes progress in many different ways. However, every time he thinks he’s made progress in one area, something in an old but forgotten area pops up.
Hyeri has been happy with her choice. She isn’t getting work, but that’s all going to change once she signs with a new agency. Though that had been in limbo for a little while.
JJS decided they would sue Hyeri for breaking her contract. They want her to pay damages for not holding up her end, claiming she’s cost them lots of money. She’s terrified since she’s never been sued before, but she couldn’t stand by without countersuing for her own reasons. The lies and especially the unpaid roles they had her doing without telling her from the start that they would be unpaid.
Yoongi got Hyeri in contact with an attorney he knows and trusts. Hyeri was happy, because without company resources she didn’t know how she’d get an attorney. It’s all a mess, but they both feel optimistic. There’s plenty of proof that JJS were in the wrong so she hopes it will be an easy case.
Just because it seems like it’s an easy case, doesn’t mean it will be a quick one. While the case is ongoing, Hyeri managed to land a deal with a new agency about two weeks after telling JJS to shove it. She’s ecstatic and eager to get working again.
Yoongi feels good that she’s found a new company. He’s happy that she seems in good spirits despite how long her case is taking in court. He’s happy that she’s happy. He’s happy.
He’s outside laying on top of the picnic table staring into the sky. His jaw is tightly clinched and his ears are welled with tears that have rolled down the side of his face. He wants a drink so bad right now.
He was fine at first. He started his day with some fruit and iced coffee. He played on his keyboard that he had brought in so he could work on music. Then he went walking outside a little. During his walk his mind started wandering as it typically does. But for some reason his mind was on Hyeri. Not that that’s unusual, but the thoughts went from typical longing to pure anxiety.
He knows Hyeri is trying to stay strong, but he knows her too well to believe that she’s doing as ok as she says she is. He’s worried about her. Worried that she’s going to bed sad and alone every night. Worried that he’s been away too long. Worried that something else may happen to her and he won’t be there for her. He still has the image of her car accident in his mind and he still hasn’t fully forgiven himself. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t forgiven himself for anything.
When he talks to Minho it’s always productive. He’s forgiven Hyeri for the way she handled things with the dating rumors both times. He thought he forgave her before but realized he hadn’t. Thanks to Minho’s help, Yoongi has been able to move past that. He’s talked about other things since, but hadn’t quite realized that deep down he still hates himself.
He’s staring at the sky through his tears wishing he could just have one drink. Something small to take the edge off. He thought there had to be something in that house or even something the doctor may have left behind in the second cabin after he left. Nothing. Yoongi searched and searched and found nothing. Now he’s sad and irritated.
“Is that comfortable?” Minho asks approaching the table. He’s arrived for today’s session but didn’t expect to find Yoongi crying on the table.
Yoongi doesn’t move, he only sighs in more frustration because he didn’t realize what time it was. He didn’t realize he’d been on the table crying for 3 hours.
“What’s going on?” Minho asks softly.
Yoongi shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk. If he opens his mouth he won’t be able to speak through the sobs.
“Did something happen?”
Yoongi shakes his head again.
“Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”
Yoongi opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He doesn’t know how to describe what he’s feeling, he just knows he wants a drink.
“I-I…” Yoongi stutters. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I can’t do this.”
“Why?” Minho asks.
“I let her down too much. I can’t go back home to her.”
“I thought you wanted to do this so you could be what you feel she deserves.”
“I do, I just…I’m going to find a way to fuck it up again. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves someone that will be by her side and take care of her. Not someone who will drink himself stupid and cheat on her.”
“Has she told you these things?”
“Come on,” Yoongi scoffs. “She’s not going to actually say something like that. She’d be too afraid to. Even if she hated me she wouldn’t hurt my feelings. I know that much, and that’s why she deserves better.”
“Are you wanting to end your relationship with her?” Minho asks placing a hand on Yoongi’s arm.
“No…I mean no…she…” Yoongi sputters.
“You think she deserves better, and you think you wouldn’t be it for her. That sounds like you want to at least end your romantic relationship with her, right?”
Yoongi lets out a pained wail and begins sobbing heavily. His chest is burning and it’s excruciating.
He just wants a damn drink.
#bts#bts au#bts fanfic#bts fic#cross posted on ao3#bts smut#angst#tw depression#bts fluff#tw alcoholism#bts angst#Yoongi#min yoongi#Suga#yoongi x oc#Suga x oc#yoongi au#suga au#yoongi angst#suga angst#yoongi fluff#suga fluff#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#yoongi smut#suga smut#yoongi fic#suga fic#established relationship#idol au
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clandestine | myg (m) teaser
pairing: gangleader!yoongi x f!reader
genre(s)&au(s): gang au, bitch better have my money or i'll fuck ur girl au, angst, pwp, smut
rating: 18+
word count: teaser - 405
warning(s)&smut warning(s): strong language, mentions of weapons, threats of murder
summary: bloodthirsty and dangerous, yoongi wont stop until he gets what he is rightful owed. and if you're on offer, then he just cant say no to that.
banner: @kth1 | @kth1fics
note: hehehe...
“Sir, over here,” you overhear someone whisper — probably having heard the snoring from above you.
The sound of heavy duty combat boots picking up pace and heading straight in your direction makes you still. You don’t move an inch in fear of getting caught, placing a hand over your mouth to keep your breathing at bay.
From underneath the bed, you count five pairs of boots. They move slowly around the bed surrounding you in a circle. Two of them make their way to the side of the bed where Hee-won lies and another two direct themselves to your side of the bed, vanishing behind the comforter that you had pulled down earlier.
The remaining body doesn’t move from the bottom of the bed. Instead, you watch on as he pulls out the chair from underneath the vanity; the scraping of the chair legs against the floor is like nails on a chalkboard causing you to hiss at the sound.
He sits down in the chair and spreads his legs too casually for someone who is breaking into an apartment which can only mean he has done this many times in the past. He’s calculated and smart — knows how to play the game.
The room is silent.
Nobody talks and nobody moves.
Your eyes frantically dart back and forth between their legs, watching for any movement…but nothing. The sound of a large heavy bag being dropped to the floor makes you jump in terror, your body hitting the framing of the bed.
Someone had to have heard that…
Your body chills at the thought of being caught; who knows what awaits you outside of your hiding spot. Who knows what these men are capable of.
You’re able to make out someone shushing those around him and you watch as the man who is sitting in the chair eventually gets up and walks over to the side of the bed to join the other two where Hee-won lays.
One of the men bends down in your peripheral vision as his leather gloves starts to unzip the bag, emptying the contents all over the floor. The sound of metal on metal hitting against each other is deafening in the small bedroom. You watch as guns, knives and an array of other weaponry is scattered in a small pile on the floor.
“Where is she?” You hear who you presume to be the leader of the home invasion ask. “She’s supposed to be here. I swear if this fucker has touched her, I’ll bury him myself.”
#btshoneyhive#min yoongi#yoongi#yoongi imagines#yoongi drabble#yoongi one shot#yoongi fanfic#yoongi fic#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi au#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#bts smut#bts angst#bts drabble#bts one shot#bts imagine#bts fanfic
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Our Little Love part seven - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au
What’s that saying? One step forward two steps back? 👀 6K words containing: manipulation, toxic yandere men, non-consented acts of affection, lies, possessive behaviour, jealousy, allusion to crime and kidnapping.
“Little love,” Jin calls for you absentmindedly, frowning when you don’t look up from your book to answer him. It’s one you had read a million times before, maybe you didn’t hear him.
“Little love?” He tries again, looking confused as you let out a disgruntled sigh of annoyance.
He can see your jaw clench, something had pissed you off. Your foot became restless as you sat in the arm chair, it was only when Jimin cleared his throat obviously he remembered the terms and conditions you had enforced.
This time he lets out a big sigh, one of tested patience. He mumbles an apology before turning away, a bitter feeling creeping up his chest. Fuck, he resented the fact he couldn’t call you that anymore, it was like asking him not to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck, they needed to earn your forgiveness soon or this might actually kill them. Not that they ever underestimated you, but you really did know which weapons to pull to hurt them the most, and fuck did he have to admit they deserved it. Didn’t mean he had to like any of it.
Jimin follows him out, a quick glance back at you to see if you were paying any concern but of course not. Since the day you announced the break you’d been keeping your distance, Jimin had complained about it childishly with tantrum tears in his eyes but you had patiently explained you needed the space to clear your head.
Jimin scoffs at the memory, feeling sour about it still. The pout he wears gives away his thoughts when they both find Yoongi in the kitchen.
“Little love giving you a hard time?” he says almost amused.
It’s Jin’s turn to scoff dramatically, ears burning so red, Yoongi swears there’s steam.
“We can’t call her that anymore,” he complains, sulking.
Yoongi smiles a little, not because he truly found his hyung’s pain entertaining, but because he understood the pain.
“It’s a difficult situation,” Yoongi agrees, “but the alternative would have been so much worse.”
Jimin and Jin stare silently at him, their gazes aggressive as if they wanted to hit the male but they didn’t because he was right. The worst alternative wasn’t expecting you to leave, they all knew they would never let that happen, but if you had become a ghost of yourself, if they had broken you so badly there was nothing left to rebuild, then what would be left of you?
“When did you become so considerate?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like any of it, he didn’t care if you were right and they were wrong, you had taken away their most prized and valuable possession, you. He couldn’t help the internal tantrums as if someone had taken away his favourite toy. Call him childish, call him whatever the hell you wanted, he hated this situation, and he couldn’t hide it.
They apologised, and apologised, and apologised, and you still gave them the cruellest punishment you could think of.
“You’re still thinking with anger,” Yoongi acknowledges, knowing when Jimin cooled down from this he would probably be the one with the most regret and remorse, what he didn’t know is Jimin was clinging to his resentment with all his might, because once that gave way he would have so much to answer for.
—
Men would pay money to see Jung Hoseok hesitate, but that was exactly what he was doing now. Another book in your hand (you were reading a bit too much lately, he didn’t like it, it was as if you knew you couldn’t leave physically so you were doing so mentally), and he was stalling himself with interrupting you.
Your rejection cut holes into him, and that’s what he was afraid of when approaching you today. When he was younger he used to be afraid of everything, but after indulging in the horrors of survival and the syndicate, nothing terrified him any more, or so he thought before his heart belonged to you.
“Litt-” he catches himself before he says it too loud, clearing his throat quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. “Y/n?”
He sounds more confident, his more serious persona going up as if that would protect him here. He knew he needed it, any sane person after experiencing his pleasure and pain games would run at the sight of him, and a part of him was getting ready to catch you if you did.
You look at him and it has him crumbling. Something in his chest physically hurts him so bad he thinks he needs to go see a specialist, one glance from you and he’s ready to beg on his knees again for your forgiveness. The distance between you, although you were here in front of him, killed him. It felt eerily similar to what it did when you left, and it confused his brain and body so much.
He had to remind himself every day, you were still here, you still loved them, this was just temporary.
“I-I wasjus- I was just heading to the b-basment,” forget money, men would lay down their lives to see Jung Hoseok stutter and stumble over his words.
You frown in question when he doesn’t continue, but stares at you expectantly, until he realises he hadn’t explained what he wanted.
“For a workout!” He rectifies himself quickly before taking a breath to calm himself, “I wondered if you wanted to join me?”
He mentally pats himself on the back quickly for sounding more put together, but then his nerves start to shake again when you don’t respond immediately. You contemplate it, for too long in his eyes, stretching out the pause until you have the man sweating. Who needs a work out, just piss your girlfriend off and try to spend time with her while she's still mad.
“Yeah, okay,” you nod, finally putting down your book (he should get Jimin to burn them all). “I’ll go get changed.”
The relief and joy that floods Hobi almost makes him pass out, a genuine smile he hasn’t felt on his own face for days bursts through. This was a step in the right direction, you didn’t hate him or you would’ve shut him down. With the amount of hope in his system, he was getting giddy.
—
You wanted some time alone this evening, without them lingering around you, with poor attempts of covering their intentions with busying themselves. As if you couldn’t see Jimin’s imploring stare as he walked past you from the corner of your eyes. Or the way Jin would walk towards you, hesitate and then walk away.
You didn’t say they couldn’t talk to you, you were just on a break. Part of you knows you should seek them out and start civil conversation but that part also knew once you opened the door they would come barging through. An inch would turn into a mile and you would be back where you started.
So now you were busying yourself with the world’s worst chore, just to escape and breathe for a second, laundry. You were sorting through the load at a snail’s pace, knowing when you were done you’d have to endure them again. You’re so embedded in your own thoughts you don’t feel another presence join you.
Arms wrap around you, making you still. His figure almost engulfs you from behind, his nose already finding purchase on your neck as he buries himself against you. You try not to sigh, you were sick of hearing the sound yourself but it was always one of patience.
You understood how hard it was for them to accept your decision for a ‘break’, but all you wanted was some respect for it. And this broke your no touching rule.
“Tae let go,” you say without an ounce of emotion, continuing sorting out the laundry in front of you.
His only reaction to your words is the opposite of course, holding you tighter against him making your heart skip too many beats to count. Your skin sizzled with something akin to longing, a fire he only seemed to ignite when his breath hit your neck.
You don’t give in. You throw the item of clothing in your hand down, both hands on the edge of the basket as you still, standing statue as he tries his hardest to work through your defences. You don’t respond when he nuzzles his nose against where he’s buried, or to the rumble of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. His eyes are closed, you know they are, he’s relishing the moment all he can before you take it away.
He doesn’t feel you respond the way he wants you to, he wants you to melt against him and the urge is so strong but somehow you resist. He whines, the sound so soft near your ears you almost miss it. He tries holding you tighter still, his thumb stroking soft circles on your skin, trying to tempt you to break your resolve. Gentle, almost whisper like kisses are placed on your shoulder as he finally breaks away.
“Are you done?” You say almost coldly as he steps back, picking back up another item of clothing.
You hear him sniff but you don’t let it move you.
“Heaven, please,” he begs, a fist in your top clutching onto you.
That’s when you turn to face him. If he expects to see any softness in your gaze he’s sorely mistaken, it’s not a glare you’re giving him but it’s close enough that it burns. You don’t even flinch when you see tears in his eyes.
“I asked you not to touch me,” you state quietly but your words are firm. “Or that if you did, you asked first.”
He looks down, partly in shame, partly in grief. You can’t stand to see the sight, it makes your heart ache, so you walk away.
—
“Y/n?” Jungkook asks for your attention, biting his lips in worry. “Can I ask you about the book you’re reading?”
The others in the room feel an overwhelming sense of envy when you smile at the maknae. Jimin’s jaw goes slack as you scoot over to let Jungkook sit beside you. Envy was a dangerous thing, how he wanted to pluck the youngest of them out of the seat and take his place, but he hadn’t calmed his emotions down enough yet to approach you properly, and he knew if he did he’d ruin whatever rebuilding the others had done. No, he had to be patient with himself and withdraw, even if that meant physically. He was playing cards with Yoongi and Seokjin, but he places his cards down and leaves.
Jin’s pout overtakes his face when he turns away from the sight of Jungkook grinning while you talk animatedly, putting down a card without thinking and letting Yoongi take the win this round. Yoongi didn’t even notice, his gaze goes soft at the way you laugh at a teasing comment Jungkook made, a sound he hasn’t heard in what felt like forever. The sound even makes the corners of Jin’s pout pull up.
The youngest of the group honestly thought he was in paradise, he didn’t even care about the book he just wanted to hear you talk without reservation. His focus was on the way your eyes lit up, the genuine smile on your face, how does he try to make this moment last forever? He pays attention to every word you utter, asking the right question to keep you going, even making a joke here and there and feeling so pleased with himself when you laugh.
How did the relationship regress back so far that he felt like this was the start of it, like he was still pursuing you to give him a chance, like he had to work up the courage to ask you out all over again. The answer of course was in their mistakes, the thought dampens his mood but he pushes it away. He didn’t know when he would get another moment like this, he had to soak it all in and cherish it before it was over.
—
Your defences go up when you spot Jimin bringing Taehyung to you, the shorter male holding his hand guiding your bear like boyfriend in front of you. You look at them both expectantly, wondering what the theatrics were for. Taehyung sniffles, his face hanging low, his red hoodie pulled down as far as he can get it to hide himself.
“Taehyung has something he wants to say Heaven- I mean angel- I mean Y/n,” he corrects himself repeatedly with a shake of his head, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at the blunder, but he wouldn’t apologise for it even it that made him a hypocrite for what he was making Taehyung do.
He pushes his friend gently, encouraging him to speak.
“Tae?” you say gently, remembering how harshly you spoke to him the other day.
Apparently that was all it took for the man to break down into tears in front of you, falling to his knees as he bawled. Your jaw drops in shock at the action, but you’re more surprised at the fact he holds himself back from launching into you for comfort.
You can see how hard it is to do so, he’s hugging himself, but his nails dig into the fabric of his clothes. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. You give him a second to compose himself, the sobs turning into little hiccups as he wipes his face with his sleeve.
When he looks at you it's your turn to grip the armrests of the chair with all your might, those glassy eyes beg you for love and it takes everything not to smother him in your embrace. But that would undo all the work you’ve been doing, you had to talk it out first and then maybe if this was resolved you could reward him with physical affection, just a little.
“I-I’m sorry,” he says through a hoarse voice, the sound only breaking your resolve further. “About the other day, I s-should’ve asked first.”
He tries to take a deep breath in but it’s shaky, for some reason what he wants to say next breaks him out into more tears. He covers his face as he cries, Jimin rubbing his back providing him with the comfort you couldn’t give just yet.
“Doyouhateme?”
The muffled question breaks your heart, Jimin can see it on your face and it has him fighting down a smirk. He may have played a hand at manipulating the situation, convincing Taehyung this was the best way to get back into your good books.
“Tae no,” you breathe, eyes watering but you blink back the tears. You didn’t want to show them any weakness anymore. “I don’t hate you.”
You sigh, eyes to the ceiling, as if begging for control over yourself as you try really hard to not give in to the feeling of wanting to crawl into his lap and hold him.
“I just really needed some space that day,” you explain, “and you caught me at a bad time.”
That wipes away Jimin’s elation, all this talk about space and distance, it already felt like you were living on Mars. How much space did you want? In his opinion there had been too much space, that was the problem, or were you forgetting the long agonising months of your absence?
Taehyung nods, thankfully retaining your attention away from Jimin who couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face.
—
You can’t sleep, tossing and turning from your side to your back and then to your side again. Were you fighting a losing battle? Were you being unfair in asking them to change? You remember cases of forgotten wives refusing to leave their no good husbands, the amount of inane times you heard the cries of ‘I can get him to change’... had you become one of those women? Then of course came the others, the women who knew they could not work miracles on their partners and gave up. Some left, some stayed, and you remember watching them all in the years of your career, arrogantly thinking it would never be you, no man would ever trap you like this. There was a joke in there somewhere, one man certainly didn’t, but seven did.
The knock on the door thankfully interrupts your endless circle of pity, a meek Jungkook peeking around as he opens the door. Something about the scene felt familiar but the shoe was on the other foot. He was waiting for permission to come in, you don’t know why the sight made you smile, made you warm.
If anyone was proof that they were trying for you it was Jungkook, Yoongi had kept his distance out of respect for your rules, you know he only did so because he couldn’t help himself if he got too close. Jimin was similar although, you could see he was keeping his distance mentally, angry with you and your conditions. It would pass, you were sure, or at least you hoped.
Jungkook was the only one that accepted everything without complaint, and you knew it wasn’t easy. You were so grateful to him for it, for respecting your boundaries sincerely, for giving you hope that this relationship could be salvaged.
He almost trips over himself when you pull the covers back wordlessly, inviting him in, the stumble of his legs as he races towards you makes you giggle. He climbs in without hesitation, about to reach out for you but he stops himself, eyes looking up at you, wanting to ask you out loud but too afraid to.
“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, as if talking loudly would break the peace you felt with him there, that you’d second guess yourself.
Arms you’ve longed for wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. You hold him back gently, not letting yourself get lost in him the way you wanted. In the darkness, your gazes meet, talking loudly in a way filled the silence.
“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out hard, unable to hold it in any longer.
“I’ve missed you too,” you admit.
He bites his lips to refrain from saying anything else, to break the illusion that everything was okay.
“I used to think I understood your darkness,” you murmur, stroking his hair out of his face.
He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest, the youngest didn’t like how that sentence was going and part of him didn’t want to hear the rest.
“But I don’t think I ever did,” you confess in a whisper, starting to ramble. “I don’t get it Kookie, why me? This obsession, I thought I felt it the same as you, I thought you guys understood me too.”
You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep up with your thoughts when you felt the hands of sleep trying to catch you.
“Maybe I was just trying to excuse my own darkness,” you sigh, almost in defeat. “Or maybe I just fed yours too much.”
“You gave us your love,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. “Your acceptance, you didn’t feed our darkness baby, you just didn’t see the extent of it.”
—
The silence is suffocating. Yoongi normally appreciates it but in this situation it was unsettling. They’re all in the living room, some pretending to do their own thing, but no one was paying any attention to anything other than you. Yoongi and Namjoon did so blatantly, Yoongi sitting on the couch away from you but his stare is nowhere else. This didn’t break the rules, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t soak you in with his eyes whenever he wanted.
The others were also very obvious with their glances towards you, Jin was dusting the same spot of the living room over and over. Hoseok flipping through the tv channels with Jungkook sitting beside him, the maknae biting his lips in worry with every peek he took, a habit he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. Taehyung and Jimin uncharacteristically played chess but all the pieces were in the wrong places, arbitrarily moving them just to keep appearances so you didn’t call them out.
And Namjoon… the man was staring daggers into your form. Elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, his chin on his thumb, his finger on his face tapping away on his cheekbone impatiently. He was supposed to be going over the papers in his lap, but they were being scrunched in his other hand. Yoongi thought he looked like a bomb about to explode, and he wasn’t wrong.
“That’s it!” Namjoon almost growls as he slams his file down, standing from his seat while everyone stares in shock at his outburst.
He walks towards you, and you meet his glare but refuse to move from the comfort and safety of the tub chair, you don’t even close your book.
“This ‘break’ is over,” he snarls, gestating with his hands trying to find a conduit for his anger. “Do you understand, little love?”
You look up at him with eyes simmering a fire he only ignited, meeting his glare head on.
“I decide when this break is over,” you say calmly, refusing to fight him at his level.
“No.”
“No?” Your brows scrunch in disbelief and anger, there goes your plan to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
You throw your book back into the seat as you rise to meet him eye to eye, although he’s still looking down at you.
“I mean…” he breathes gruffly, grazing his hand with yours at your side. “No.”
“You can’t b-“
Your voice is smothered by his lips, his soft touch turning into an iron grip as he pulls you closer, devouring you like a man starved and in his eyes that’s exactly what he was. You push him away, but he doesn’t allow for any space between you.
Even when you’re banging your fist against his chest, unable to breathe, he doesn’t budge. You’re at his mercy, only when he decides he’s had enough (for now), does he pull away.
You look dishevelled almost, breathing hard, your eyes glistening with tears. The sight shouldn’t arouse him but it does.
You have the audacity to childishly wipe his kiss away with the back of your hand, a tough swipe that does nothing to erase the force he handled you with. He chuckles, the sound makes your ears burn, feeling the warmth of shame colour them in.
The others stare with the jaws wide open, fear settling in that this was taking too many steps in the wrong direction. It takes everything not to call you back when you storm away, it takes everything not to follow.
No one says a word, but they all glare accusingly at their leader except Taehyung, who only looks down in shame.
—
“Where do you think you’re going?” Yoongi asks gruffly, sleep still in his voice.
“Out.” You respond bluntly, avoiding his gaze.
“I asked where,” he pushes when you pull Taehyung’s hoodie over your head. You were drowning in the fabric, and he pretended the sight didn’t make him ache for you. The same way you were trying so hard not to let his sleepy state bring down your defences, no matter how cute he looked in the shorts and grey top.
“What does it look like Yoongi,” your head was spinning with too many thoughts and you needed to clear it. “For a run.”
“I’ll come with you,” he says it like an offer but it’s not, you know it’s not.
“No,” you refuse simply, finally meeting his stare. “Send one of your men to keep an eye on me, it's what you did before anyway.”
He’s quiet, observing you for a moment. You hated it when he did that, it was like he could see inside of you and yet, despite that, you felt like he couldn’t understand anything he saw. You break eye contact first, putting on your trainers while he continues to stare. Why couldn’t you read him the same, how could he still get under your skin with his silence even after all this time?
“I’ll send Jungkook,” he says as you open the door. “He’ll keep his distance.”
He doesn’t take the slam as you leave personally, he knows you just need to vent your frustrations, but because you were so isolated- sorry, because they isolated you, you had no one to vent to, no one who was objective to talk to. Physically stretching your mind would maybe do you some good.
“Did you seriously let her go out unsupervised?” Namjoon seethes as he approaches Yoongi, quick to dial one of their men regardless of what nefarious time of the morning it was. The first call goes to voicemail.
Yoongi sighs, he was on his way back to bed, guess not.
“She deserves our trust,” he replies. “And I was about to send Jungkook.”
“It’s not about trust,” Namjoon bites back, another call unanswered, “it’s about safety, or are you forgetting our enemies hunt our weaknesses.”
“Our enemies know if they touch her they’ve signed their own death certificate, no one would dare cross us now, not with the amount of blood we’ve shed,” Yoongi groans in aggravation. “Not to mention you’ve bought out the police Namjoon.”
“But not every policeman, or Captain, or are you forgetting what we did to him?”
“You gave him a warning, he’ll behave,” Yoongi states, ready to leave the conversation but he can’t help himself with what he says next. After Namjoon’s actions last night, he was feeling a little vengeful, even if he didn’t completely mean his words. “We should’ve left him unharmed, we knew she didn’t want us to hurt him.”
The shock in Namjoon’s eyes flashes for a second before they compose themselves to a stare. He puts his phone back in his pocket, maybe Jungkook was the best one to go, you didn’t seem to punish him as harshly as the others.
The silence between the men turns the air cold, their gazes stoic but speaking volumes. Namjoon wouldn’t stand for mutiny or disloyalty, he especially didn’t stand for anyone questioning his decisions.
“He hurt her,” he explains himself patiently, “he wants to take her away from us.”
Yoongi scoffs, a humourless grin on his face as he stares back in ridicule at their leader.
“We hurt her,” he states, eyes blank of emotion, “where’s our bullet to the knees.”
—
If you were being honest with yourself, you hated running, you hated the way each breath burned as it filled your lungs, how each limb could feel like lead, but the pain was better than the thoughts you were trying to clear.
You remember at the police academy, Suho and Kai used to run circles around you, but somewhere along the way your competitiveness got the better of you, and you trained harder than them both. It used to annoy you to hell that they were physically much stronger than you, but those days were some of the best. The three of you were so close, each other’s confidants when things went sour, the two you’d hang out with when a case went wrong. Now who did you have to confide in?
Maybe it’s your conscious or unconscious thoughts making your legs move in a particular direction, but you don’t realise where you’re headed until you see the sign above the door. The breakfast place… where everything went to shit a third time.
You barely glance inside as you run past but the sight of someone familiar makes you double take. Think of the devil and he appears?
His eyes catch yours when you stop in your tracks, he’s sitting at a table alone and the sight of him brings back that day like a breath after being underwater for so long. An apology is at the tip of your tongue, your eyes start to water, you know you have to keep running, if any of them finds you here with him, he’d be dead. You’re about to turn away when he waves at you, a simple smile that didn’t meet his eyes sent your way as he watches the realisation hit you.
His hand was covered in thick bandages, and your stare doesn’t leave them. There’s no thought in your mind as your legs move you into the building, ignoring the waiter's greeting as you walk towards your old Captain with dread.
He shifts in his seat, letting you see the bandages on his leg, around his knee, the crutches resting on the seat next to him. Your eyes are wide with shock before your gaze turns into one of mournful rage. Tears start forming in your eyes as you shake.
The sense of betrayal that overwhelms you has you reaching a hand for the table, gripping the edge tight to steady yourself.
They lied.
They looked you in the eyes and lied. All of them, including Jungkook. You don’t let yourself sob, not when a fire burns any attachment you felt towards them to dust.
You move your gaze from his injuries to his face, his stare never having left you.
“Arrest them,” your voice is hoarse but without a morsel of regret, anger paving the way forward now, filling the loss you felt deep inside of you.
They must’ve thought you were fucking stupid, they must’ve laughed behind your back, humoring you with their acts of trying to change. Fuck, you were a fool, they played you again and again and you just took it every fucking time. There was never going to be any change, and you refused to be their prisoner any longer.
“I’ll be your witness,” you say it with conviction, although a part of you grieves. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need, just send them away.”
Suho doesn’t say a word, and that makes it all so much worse. You can feel something creeping around you, shadows of them that have latched onto you, crawling all over your skin. You wanted rid of this dark energy, you wanted out.
You don’t break his stare, not for a second, you can tell he’s deep in thought, contemplating your resolve, and if he saw a hint of uncertainty in you he would do no such thing. Why would he risk it? They hurt him, they could hurt him again.
He reaches for his phone, and you take a premature breath of relief.
“Make the call,” he commands, handing the device to you.
—
When Yoongi dragged Jungkook out of bed this morning, the maknae had begrudgingly crawled out of the house. His body ran on autopilot when he left to find you, eyes half open, yawning in the morning air. His hoodie pushes his hair to fall in his face but he’s too tired to drag the fabric back.
It wouldn’t take long to find you, he could run circles around you if he wanted but the thought of maybe spending some time with you alone made his legs pick up the pace, a goofy grin on his face as he thought about it.
Yes you were probably mad about Namjoon’s actions yesterday, not that Jungkook blamed him all that much, it was hard to stay away from you, but he was starting to understand your perspective a little more. Especially after the last time you pulled away, and he couldn’t let that happen again, he wouldn’t survive it another time. He wouldn’t blame you if you gave him the cold shoulder, he just hopes you don’t punish him because of Namjoon, deflecting your anger wherever it did damage.
He’d calm you down, he’s sure of it. He’d tell you that what their big bad boss did was wrong and he was on your side, he’d tell you that he loved you and respected you, and it didn’t matter how long you took to forgive them he was sure the relationship would heal.
He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realise how far he’s travelled, it’s only when there’s still no sight of you his grin begins to fade. He should’ve caught up to you by now, this was the route you normally take, and you knew better than to go another way.
What if… no. You wouldn’t dare leave again, you wouldn’t. Jungkook breaks into a sprint, running every route he can think of, not stopping for a moment even when his lungs and legs burn. He’s looking round like a mad man, but he can’t find you. What if something happened? What if someone got to you or hurt you? Memories flash in his mind to long, long ago when that was almost the case. What if?
Shit. A hand to his pocket tells him he’s left his phone, he couldn’t contact the others to join him. His best decision was to get back to the house asap. Jin would still have the tracker on your phone, they would find you, it was all going to be fine.
The fear that seized his heart was not fooled by such idealistic thoughts, his eyes had seen the true brutality of the world, sometimes caused by his own hands, and now his mind played a myriad of images of his little love in all the situations of pain he caused others. He always wondered if karma would catch him one day, he never thought it would take you.
—
He slams the door open so hard it struggles to stay on the hinges.
“I CAN’T FIND HER!” He yells into the open space of the home with all the air in his lungs.
It doesn’t take long for the hoard to assemble.
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jin yells back, reaching for his phone to track you without prompt.
Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Namjoon glares at Yoongi, the shorter man ignoring him.
“She’s probably taken another route,” he says calmly.
“You better hope that’s all,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth.
“What if someone’s got her?” Jimin panics.
“No,” Hoseok shuts that idea down, “everyone knows there is nowhere in Seoul to hide from us.”
“There’s always one idiot that’s willing to try, or have you forgotten the last time someone tried to take her?” Taehyung says heatedly.
“And we know how that ended,” Hoseok growls back.
The bickering among themselves grows in volume, so loud that they almost miss what Jin says.
“What?” It’s Yoongi that dares to ask him to repeat himself, the drumming in his ears drowning the words. He must’ve misheard…
“She’s at the police station,” there’s no mistaking it this time. Jin looks solemnly at Namjoon while all their heads spiral.
“She’s not gone there of her own will,” Yoongi shakes his head in denial, “they’ve arrested her or something.”
Namjoon says eerily quiet, his breathing hard, his jaw clenched.
“Namjoon we own the police,” Hoseok pushes, “make a fucking call see why she’s there.”
“Fuck making a call! I’m going over there,” Jungkook announces, turning back to the front door, but the sight of a police van pulling up at their mansion makes him stop in his tracks.
“Are they dropping her home,” Jimin asks stupidly, unable to comprehend why else they would be there.
The older four men look at eachother knowingly.
“Should we run?” Jin asks, making Taehyung and Jimin whip their heads to stare at him incredulously.
“Why would we run?” Namjoon breaks his silence, “they’ll take us right to her.”
As if on queue a smoke grenade rolls into the room, blasting off within seconds, covering the air. Namjoon almost laughs, they sent the fucking swat team, how ridiculous when they could’ve settled this like gentlemen.
Bodies swarm in, yelling commands and they all fall to their knees as instructed. On any other day, if you were home, these men wouldn’t make it through the door, but Namjoon was right, they were a one way ticket to finding you.
#this chapter has very little Namjoon (although I feel he makes an impact) but that’s okay the next chapter is Namjoon centric#bts au#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts angst#bts ot7 x reader#bts yandere!au#bts yandere#yandere bts#bts imagines#bts writing#bts mafia!au#bts mafia series#bts mafia au#namjoon mafia au#yandere namjoon#yandere seokjin#jin x you#yandere yoongi#yoongi au#yandere hoseok#hoseok mafia au#hobi au#jimin x you#yandere jimin#taehyung x reader#yandere taehyung#jungkook x reader#jungkook mafia#yandere jungkook
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fail-safe (3)
pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 14k
glimpse: you hear everything you've ever wanted, but you don't know if it's too late.
alternatively, yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ still angst (but u can breathe now bc it’s the finale), brother’s best friend AND single dad au, jealousy, yearning from all angles, did i say angst alr (mom-wise and brother-wise), fluff, redemption ]
notes: this is it for the chronological series of fail-safe :-) from the bottom of my heart thank you so sooooo much for reading n loving!!! sharing fs with the lot of u is an experience (and era) i'll never forget!!!
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist
Your trip back home isn’t as rough as you expected it to be.
Somehow, there’s a huge difference between coming home alone and coming home with Jungkook. There’s an irreplaceable weight in your chest that still flares even at the mention of Yoongi, the anger you have towards him mixing with the trepidation of holding everything in you, not just him, for another three days. There’s an angry rash around your fingertips just waiting for you to pick on your nails until they’re raw because atleast in that way, you get to forget the way Yoongi’s hand picked up yours in the dark.
There’s an ache in you that not even Yoongi and Hyewon could undo by never having met in the first place. It’s long been there, perhaps even older than Haneul. The ache of unfulfillment in you is bred by everything significant in your life — all from your first argument with your mom because of your lack of direction in life, to your latest heartbreak that keeps manifesting into your first ever.
You're no longer angry recounting the fact that you weren't destined for greatness. Namjoon turned out beyond great, world-renowned even, despite living in the same home that you did. Maybe it's not your environment or your lack of a passion that hindered you — maybe, it's just you alone.
Maybe, some part of you had ached too much from reaching (read: loving) too far up, you're doomed to live the rest of your life unfulfilled. Yoongi's never been yours, but the way your heart withdraws from him is as if he's always been.
You've done your share. You've completed your fill. You've worked yourself to the bone to make anything (not something, and certainly not everything) out of yourself that even if you're not decorated in sports like Namjoon nor celebrated in music like Yoongi, you have a fail-safe to fall back on.
You're earning more than the white collars you could recognize from your old yearbook and even if it's to look after someone, to look after Jungkook and his craft, and neither use your actual degree nor make a name out of yourself — a part of you feels fulfilled.
If being fulfilled meant being in the shadows as a manager; if it meant caring for someone in a professional context yet in a way you've always known with practice, with love, through the years– you'll take it.
You'll take the peace of being fulfilled without a trophy than to be listless trying to compete for first place.
You're fulfilled now to be sitting at the passenger seat of your own car because despite having never been to your place anymore, Jungkook fought with you in order to get his hands on the wheel.
You're fulfilled now, even if you only took Jungkook's silly suggestion (read: insistence) of fake-dating him just so you wouldn't have to face your family and Yoongi alone. You're fulfilled despite having no real place in neither men's lives.
Oddly enough, Jungkook wants to be both. He wants to be fulfilled and compete for first place in a position in your life that he can't even say to your face.
Jungkook holds you right in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide and grin sparkling as if the director had already said action! and the task for him was to act out what being in love looked like, right in front of his female lead's family in her childhood home. (Read: he isn't acting at all.)
“And he’s…?” your mom lets the question hang in the air, eyes trailing from Jungkook’s face, to his bicep, to how his forearm fits snugly against your back and his hand curls around your waist. Your mom visibly looks surprised, although you don’t know if it’s about the fact that you actually came back despite everything, or if it’s because her favorite actor is in her kitchen while she’s sweaty in an apron, or if it’s because said favorite actor leaves no space between the two of you.
“Jeon Jungkook, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely, a little jittery now that he’s face-to-face with her. He’s only heard of the woman she is from you and as much as he tried to picture her from memory, your stories don’t do her much justice. Jungkook’s always loved your kind eyes and your sweet smile, but he knows now where you’ve got it from; in fact, if he turns around right now right after shaking her hand and bowing profusely, you’re showing exactly those to him — that, along with a pair of gazes he can’t place.
Those gazes aren’t kind at all. One is confused and dumbfounded, and the other harbors nothing but hostility and anger.
“Sweetheart, I know you. Who doesn’t?” your mom’s at a loss for breath, mouth still agape as she keeps flickering her eyes between the two of you. She knows that you’re his manager, but what she doesn’t know is why the Jeon Jungkook is in her humble kitchen of all places. He has the most expressive and sincere eyes ever — he can’t possibly mistake your childhood home as a filming set and your waist as a hand rest.
You finally placate her thoughts when you speak, the loaded silence between the three of you (it’s buzzing with tension if you account for the other two) breaking. You actually giggle, your laughter taking the load off her shoulders because you’re happy; you don’t feel an ounce of guilt even if you’re lying to her face.
“We’re dating, mom,” you grin. “Jungkook’s my boyfriend.”
Jungkook smiles automatically, feeling your hand snake towards his own. His palm’s much bigger than yours yet it’s warmer than you’ve ever imagined, the envelope both of your hands make putting you at ease.
Your mom’s gasp bounces across the walls. Namjoon’s head that’s only been lowered the entire time you’ve been back suddenly whips to look at you and Jungkook. The fridge even lowers its hum to make way for the theatrics aimed at you, yet your eyes are fixed on your mom’s and Jungkook’s alone.
You came home for her and with him. You’re not here for anyone nor anything else because it’s merely a play for your survival, only this time, Jungkook’s hellbent on increasing your odds.
Yoongi freezes evidently, hand tightening around Haneul’s bottle as if it would do anything to release the red from his vision. He staggers silently, breathing suddenly ragged as he stares down at the offending steel cylinder. It’s small. Compact. If anything, he figures it would hurt if he were to throw it at anything. Anyone. Someone, even.
“Wow, that’s.. that’s amazing!” she embraces the both of you, making you and Jungkook share a gaze you only laugh through because he actually looks honored.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to let you know personally,” he apologizes meekly for a mistake that isn’t even one in the first place, the humility in his tone making your ears perk. It’s Jungkook onceagain with the apologies towards you that he shouldn’t be making at all, and yet, even in front of your family, he persists.
Jungkook apologizes even for the things he hasn’t done, not because he plans on doing them, but because a large part of him wants to be in the actual situation wherein those mistakes were merely possibilities.
“It’s no problem at all. You’re busy getting all these awards, I know how that’s like,” she jokes, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad someone’s taking care of my baby.”
“And I don’t plan on missing a single day, ma’am.”
“Stop that,” she chides, shaking her head eagerly. “You can call me mom.”
Yoongi lets the bottle clatter to the sink.
( ♡ )
Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep last night.
He’d woken up in a cold sweat hours before his alarm was supposed to go off to cook dinner for everyone, even if it was only yourfavorite. The anxiousness that bubbled in his veins when he was asleep was going to burst and while Yoongi thought nothing of it initially, he realizes in panic that it was actually pointing to something.
He woke up next to Haneul and he was placated momentarily, but the knot tied around his heart tightens twofold when he sees Hyewon on the same bed.
On your bed.
The guilt that filled Yoongi then was enough for the bile to creep up into his throat, making him stagger outside to find Namjoon pacing right outside of his own bedroom. His personal phone’s tucked in between his ear and his shoulder, his hands preoccupied scrolling through whatever it is on his work phone. Yoongi momentarily stops his panic to inquire why the hell Namjoon’s panicking and why did he just see a glimpse of your social media accounts pulled up to the screen, your following list staring your brother in the eyes.
“What? What happened? Is it Y/N?”
Namjoon only looked at him with nothing but pity and guilt, the resentment he had for himself bleeding through the way he shifted his gaze to him.
“She saw you and Hyewon.”
Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep since.
He didn’t even blink when Hyewon thanked him and said her goodbyes. He wasn’t even fazed when his ex-wife kissed Haneul goodbye and his son only resumed playing with his blocks. Yoongi hadn’t even tended to himself throughout the entire night, surrendering himself to be awake in your couch in the far event that you’d come home.
Yoongi wanted to follow you home, except almost exactly similar to the past, he had chased you out of what’s supposed to be your own home in the first place. The difference now was that he didn’t mean for Hyewon to be on your bed at all, let alone your room, but in the back of Yoongi’s thick skull — he figures that it won’t be enough for you.
Yoongi waits for you all night throughout the morning like a loyal dog waiting for its master, his chest rising up and down in hope yet his chin down in despondence. You do end up coming back home though, but your presence is neither unaccompanied nor for him.
With you is Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend.
If only Haneul hadn’t asked for his bottle to be brought upstairs because he’s watching cartoons on Yoongi’s laptop, he would’ve collapsed on the floor then and there, uncaring of the way everyone else would be looking down on him.
If only Namjoon’s gaze wasn’t flitting to him to gauge his reaction because it’s the first time he’s, or by everyone else rather, hearing that you have a boyfriend, Yoongi would put his hands on his head and curse until his piercing migraine suddenly disappears.
If only your mother wasn’t here, frozen in the kitchen mostly because of what you just revealed and who you came home with, and partly because she’s waiting for him to finish washing Haneul’s bottle, he would’ve thrown up right in the sink.
Yoongi gathers all his pain and keeps it shut within himself until he gets you alone, catching you by the staircase when everyone else has dispersed.
“I’m sorry. Namjoon told me what you saw and-…” he stops himself when you look up at him with an innocent yet empty gaze, the weight of it (or lack thereof) startling him. “Let me explain why Hyewon was there in your bed.”
“I don’t want to listen,” you enunciate clearly, keeping your voice down because both Jungkook and Haneul are a few steps away. You do it for their sake and not for Yoongi’s, the bitterness in your chest physically restricting you to think about his state.
Yoongi pushes on, breath already catching in his throat when you’re still stiff as a stone. You haven’t even made a break for it yet; he only unconsciously held onto you out of fear that you’ll be out of his sight. “She was in the area because her parents are old and they don’t know much about selling their house here a-and well, she knows that I did the same for my parents when they sold ours. Nothing happened. I just helped her with the sale! S-she was playing with Haneul in the living room while I napped a-and, I just… when I woke up, they were right next to me. Y/N, I swear, nothing-…”
You shake your head fervently, the innocence of his reason doing little to break the seal in your stomach. You feel it dropping once again and even if Yoongi’s right, even if he’s saying the truth, the sight alone of him appearing to be a part of a happy family jogs up all the pain.
“I don’t want to listen and you don’t have to explain either.”
“But I hurt you. That’s why I want to explain,” he stutters. Yoongi’s eyes are so glassy, you could see your reflection in them.
“Oh. So you know,” you whisper, teeth harshly digging into your bottom lip. “I hate Hyewon for a lot of things but not for being the mother of your child. That’s out of my reach. I get it. She’s his mom and that’s that,” you admit, the vacancy in your chest and on your ring finger reminding you what Yoongi had never given you the chance for. “What I hate is that you let her sleep in my room. Seeing Haneul in there is good. You and him? That’s okay because I let you sleep in there,” you heave, voice close to breaking because of how you force it to be tamped down. “I hate how you let her sleep in my room, Yoongi. I-I, I fucking hate it because it’s just like that time I caught you practically fucking her in my room.”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-…” Yoongi sniffles, tears already pouring. The staircase in your house is far too narrow to hold the both of you, let alone your history. “I didn’t think. I didn’t notice, a-and, I didn’t think. I didn’t think at all, Y/N. I thought it was okay for a split second because we looked like-…”
“A family,” you finish for him. “I get it. I do,” you nod your head fervently, your own hand snaking to your lips to stop the sharp inhale that pains you from the inside. “Almost everyone loses their sense of reason when it comes to family.”
“I didn’t notice she already entered the room. But I-I woke up,” Yoongi still swears up and down, adamant on his truth that you aren’t open to entertaining because he’s hurt you far too many times before. “Hyewon and I… we’re not. We’re co-parenting.”
“Still a family.”
“But-…”
“What the hell do you want to hear from me, Yoongi?” you snap, voice finally toning down when you notice faint footsteps coming from the second floor. “Do you— do you want me to agree with you and say that the three of you aren’t a family? And for what, s-so that could somehow excuse you for everything you’ve done? I don’t even know what family’s supposed to mean at this point!”
From upstairs, Namjoon suppresses a sob.
“My mom doesn’t know a single thing about all of this. I-I can’t even cry to her because I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of protecting you, your son that she looks to as a grandson, a-and even your mom who’s her best friend,” you break into tears, ignoring the baby towel that Yoongi keeps on his person all the time that he offers to you. You sound far too defeated, and maybe you actually are, that Yoongi lets you push past him. “Meanwhile, my own brother probably knows everything but his first instinct is to protect you. Not me, his actual sibling. You.”
.
.
.
Namjoon had been waiting for you upstairs. He’s been barricading the door to the bathroom because he knows you can’t go to bed without your nightly shower, and because he knows that out of every space in the house, it must be the only one left wherein you can be truly alone with no hint of Yoongi.
“We have to talk,” he gets out as soon as you make eye contact with him, the towel that’s slung on your shoulder almost falling at the urgency to which he pulls you aside.
“It can wait.”
“I need to apologize,” he pleads once again, gripping your wrist gently like he had always done when you were kids to get you to listen to him.
“And I said it can wait. I can’t stand you right now,” you grit, the tears on your cheeks barely being dried up when Namjoon, unsurprisingly, decides to apologize to you within the same timeframe as Yoongi. They hadn’t planned it at all — the guilt and remorse weighed far too heavy for them to actually communicate.
“Where will you sleep?” he asks instead, exhaling heavily because you’re insistent on not crying again in barely your first night back, again. “Where will Jungkook sleep?”
“We’ll sleep together in a hotel.”
“Hotel?” Namjoon asks loudly, eyes bulging in shock. His voice is far too loud that everyone in the house (and maybe even your neighbors) must have heard him. “That’s nonsense. This is home, Y/N. You don’t have to book a hotel.”
“It is?” you seethe, your closed fists tightening on themselves painfully. “Did you also say the same thing to Hyewon? To Yoongi in the first place?”
“It’s my fault for-…”
You’re unaware that you and Namjoon are neck to neck until your mom chimes in out of nowhere, her gentle eyes asking more questions than she’s actually uttering. “What’s going on?” she switches her gaze between you and him. “Are the two of you fighting?”
“No,” you answer in unison, unable to fit a relieved sigh in between the terse silence.
“It’s nothing, mom,” Namjoon puts a hand on your shoulder, his smile tight and tense. “I was just telling Y/N that she doesn’t have to book a hotel.”
“Why would you book a hotel?” she gasps incredulously, her tone being the exact copy of Namjoon’s just a second ago.
“It’s just crowded in here, mom. That’s all,” you muster a sheepish smile, your posture slouching the more you realize that there’s no way out.
“I can ask Yoongi and Haneul to transfer to Namjoon’s so you can-..”
“No-!” you interrupt her in a hurry, breath hitching at the mention of him. “No, no. That’s unnecessary. I don’t want to sleep in my room.”
There’s a loaded pause between all of you, even between the door that Yoongi has his back on as he listens in.
“You and Jungkook can take my room instead,” Namjoon insists, his offer only barely scratching the surface of the apology that you truly deserve.
“Great. Thanks,” you conclude, already halfway into the bathroom when the sudden thought strikes you, your curiosity (and limit, by extension) getting the best of you to ask Namjoon while your mom’s still here. “How… how much longer are they gonna stay here?”
“I… haven’t asked yet,” Namjoon admits, the animosity you have towards Yoongi not going unnoticed by your mother.
“You need to ask then,” you quip. “This house is too small to have everyone and anyone.”
( ♡ )
Jungkook woke up in peace from sleeping in a bed that isn’t his.
Even before you actually got to shower (and not just sit on the toilet seat whilst trying to compose yourself) since you forgot to retrieve your clothes from your suitcase, Jungkook was already starfished in the middle of Namjoon’s bed. It’s a touching sight atop your own blanket and bug spray that your brother put in for you.
The two of you are far from okay. As a matter of fact, the only people you’re truly okay with in the house is your mom and Haneul; despite knowing that fully, Jungkook still dived in head-first in the middle of your situation. You’ve tried to dissuade him all throughout the five-hour long car ride, and not once did he even budge.
He’s here for you and no one else. He’s snoring in the middle of your sibling’s bed whom you aren’t in good terms with. He’s at ease with you in a province that he’s never stepped foot in, all because he felt compelled to protect you somehow and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Jungkook cares for you, enough to write a note and place it beside him just before he went to sleep, telling you that he’s a messy sleeper and to either jolt him awake to move or just manhandle him to the side so you could also sleep on the bed.
You go for the latter, trying to pry him as gently as you could (but even if you just hauled him like a sack of potatoes, he still wouldn’t wake up because he’s at ease too much; it’s you, of course) before finally calling it a night.
You may have lied awake mulling over the perpetual ache in your chest, but you didn’t cry at all.
Eventually, you fall asleep to the sound of Jungkook snoring.
.
.
.
Jungkook may have slept earlier than you, but he makes sure that you stay in late. (read: he physically tucked you into bed so snugly, you probably can’t even shift your shoulders by a centimeter). He wants to pull his weight around a house he hasn’t even been in, even if you hadn’t asked him to — you’d never do, because even as a manager and not as a fake-girlfriend, you don’t let him lift a single finger. Simply put, Jungkook feels this massive pull, not to perform for you, but serve you.
He finds himself quietly going down the stairs, still in his socks because you had stolen his house slippers just last night and he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to give them back. He’s quickly figured out the kitchen, getting a soup started before he allows himself to sit on the dining table by himself.
It turns out that Jungkook’s not alone at all.
“Hi.”
His ears perk at the soft voice that comes from the side of him, eyes immediately setting on the toddler who’s still dressed in his pajamas and has a similar case of bedhead to him.
“Hey buddy. Nice bangs,” Jungkook chuckles invitingly, pulling out a chair for Haneul to which he gets up on easily by himself.
“My appa cut them for me,” he answers with a smile, shyly pointing to Jungkook’s forehead with an eager finger. “You have bangs too. Who cut yours?”
“My girlfriend. I think she can be a hairstylist one day,” he hums, not feeling guilty over lying to him when it’s only a half, easily-corrected lie. You may not be Jungkook’s actual, real girlfriend, but you did cut his bangs when he asked you to. He couldn’t be bothered going to the salon and you didn’t have the energy to argue with him otherwise, so that’s how he ended up with choppy, viral (it only became viral because he has them) bangs that gained him a few dozen articles or so.
Jungkook doesn’t have kids of his own, but what he does have are several nephews and nieces. He’s the youngest of four children, and that’s perhaps the reason why he could empathize with you. He’s never been through what you have, and although you would never wish for him to do so, a part of him wants to know what it’s like — not because he seeks the pain, but because he wants to know how he could empathize with you better
With Jungkook being Jungkook, it’s perhaps the reason why he’s one of the gifted few people who could strike up a sensible conversation with a toddler and make them laugh without doing anything at all.
Something about Jungkook makes Haneul laugh so loudly, he wakes up almost everyone in the house in peace. Even Jungkook’s attempt at lame jokes tickle Haneul more than the way Namjoon’s ever tried in earnest to make him laugh.
You’ve already slinked past the two of them on the dining table, tending to the soup and the few hundred side dishes Jungkook started on but paused just to talk to Haneul.
“Haneul, don’t believe your uncle-…” you chime over a playful dig that Jungkook makes in your expense, the giggles that had only been filling your ears just seconds ago instantly ceasing when you notice Yoongi standing near you.
“Uncle?” he raises his brow at you, turning his attention to his son. “Haneul, what did I say about talking to strangers?”
“But he’s not a stranger. I saw him in that movie!” he frowns, the immediate awe that slips out of Jungkook’s lips not helping his case in the slightest.
“Still a stranger,” Yoongi smiles tightly, his exhale dragging out as he mulls over the eerily domestic sight of the three of you.
“But he’s Uncle Kook,” Haneul reasons with him, pointing his finger at you. “He’s auntie’s boyfriend.”
.
.
.
Yoongi’s softened a little bit since breakfast.
He was never mad at Haneul in the first place (more like halfhearted because he still stands by his lesson of not teaching him to talk to strangers, even if they’re a worldwide-famous actor, but those are not his words at all) but what he is annoyed about is the scene that he walked into.
It looked far too natural for you to look like Haneul’s mom and for Jungkook to look like him, maybe even better as a dad despite not having children at all, that he thought he was seeing red.
Haneul’s lying on his shoulder as they rewatch Bluey for the second time in the living room, the shadow of your alleged boyfriend walking past him until he registers the accent, later doing a quick turnaround that makes Yoongi ultimately irritated and Haneul more than happy.
“Oh cool. I love Bluey!” Jungkook says sincerely, inviting himself to sit on the lone sofa chair to watch the episode.
“Wow, you’re just so… quirky,” Yoongi mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes, his snarky remark making Jungkook’s ears tingle. The latter scoffs slyly, making him finally acknowledge Jungkook, albeit sarcastically. “So what do you do, Jungkook?”
Even before he could answer though, Haneul does it for him with an excitement that only comes out whenever he’s talking about his favorites.
“We watched his movies in the cinema, appa! Remember?”
“Did we?” Yoongi narrows his eyes, playing his huff into a cough. He repurposes the tinge of embarrassment that he feels into snark, running a hand through his hair cockily. “I’d for sure remember an actor if they were good.”
( ♡ )
“Where’s your brother? I need him to do the heavy lifting.”
Your mom asks you with an urgency that parents only past the age of forty could possess, her lips already parted awaiting your response towards a question she asked just two seconds ago.
Even if you weren’t engrossed on an episode of Bluey (Jungkook and Haneul put you into it and you get their laser focus now) just now, you still wouldn’t know about your brother’s whereabouts. Yoongi saves you this time, his response piquing both yours and Jungkook’s interest.
“He’s in practice. Joon took Haneul with him so he could learn too.”
Jungkook looks up from his phone sharply, eyes wide in eagerness. He and Yoongi haven’t even looked at each other since yesterday yet their coordination (read: competitiveness) syncs with the other at the exact second, their insistence on tagging along a menial task making you jolt.
“I’ll come with, mom!”
“I’ll come with, auntie.”
It’s not a competition, yet Jungkook jumps up to stand so quickly, his head almost brushed the ceiling. “Let’s go, babe,” he holds out a hand for you, making you clear your throat as you’re still trying to gauge the situation.
“But what about Yoongi? Poor thing, he’ll be left alone,” your mom awes, her pout only deepening when Yoongi pretends to look crestfallen at being overlooked. He doesn’t have to pretend that much because despite not being the biggest fan of grocery-shopping, especially in your area because it always smelled of eggs despite barely carrying any eggs, he’ll jump at any task to impress your mom, and you by extension.
“I don’t think you should worry-…” you start, already being interrupted in an instant.
“Oh come on, Y/N. Two pairs of hands are better than one! They really have to do some heavy lifting because I forget to tell you about that one time your aunts hounded me for-…” she trails off while telling you a story about your supposedly huge extended family, blissfully unaware that there’s two men fighting to open the door for the both of you.
Yoongi’s driving his car as the most spacious option, making Jungkook snicker under his breath as he blames himself for not bringing his SUV which is clearly more expensive than whatever Yoongi’s driving, even if you elbow him lightly by the ribs because you didn’t ask him to do that.
“Mom, what are you doing here? Go sit in the front,” you nudge her, unwilling to sit next to Yoongi in an enclosed space.
“Oh, right! Sorry, I was just used to you always taking shotgun whenever Yoongi’s driving,” she squeals, fondly clapping to herself as she revisits the memory. “Do you remember that, sweetheart? You’d always fight with Namjoon because Yoongi got his license first.”
It may only be your mom who’s leaning against the center console to look at you in the back, but it doesn’t mean that Yoongi’s ever taken off his attention from you.
“I remember,” Yoongi smiles, looking at you from the rearview mirror. “I never forget.”
.
.
.
The grocery store hasn’t changed one bit.
It still smelled of eggs, the lights still aren’t as bright as they should be, and there’s still trinkets that you’ve always been swayed by being displayed near the register.
You’re taking it all in after not having been back for five years, whereas Yoongi strolls right in, but never ahead of you, as if he’s visited multiple times already since he left your town.
Your mom and Jungkook are side by side as he asks her a question you can’t even discern, only getting to know his actual agenda when you hear his sneakers skidding against the floor as he runs towards the pushcarts.
Yoongi, without even knowing the full context, runs after him because he didn’t want to come in second place for whatever it is that Jungkook’s challenging him to.
“I’ll steer the cart,” Jungkook presents definitively, his hand raised mid-air as if he’s being graded for eagerness alone. He looks like he wants to prove himself even if it’s only you and your mom present; no director, no producer in sight who sizes him up.
“No. I’ll do it,” Yoongi argues out of nowhere, his bruised hands reclaiming the cart under Jungkook’s grasp. He’s not even looking at your mom because his gaze is only fixed on Jungkook who’s just two tugs away from actually spitting at him.
“I said it first,” your pretend-boyfriend forcefully pulls the hunk of metal away from Yoongi, the latter coming along with it for the briefest of seconds before he does the same, this time with Jungkook gasping.
“What, are you method-acting for your next role as a cart-steerer?”
Your mom’s a little perplexed at the scene before her, lips parting in both concern and amusement because for a pair of people who haven’t met each other before, Yoongi and Jungkook are oddly competitive. They want to provesomething, anything, and maybe everything so bad, they neglect the fact that they look ridiculous fighting over a pushcart.
“We actually need two,“ she says to no one in particular, thinking out loud as she goes through her grocery list. “I think maybe even three because-…”
“I’ll get it,” Jungkook rushes out in panic, almost bumping into you in the process. You were only gone for a minute to retrieve your phone from the car and yet he already looks breathless, the knot between his eyebrows untangling when he realizes that it’s you. “Oh. Sorry, babe.”
“I’ll get it, Koo,” you murmur, catching the tail end of what your mom said about the pushcarts. Jungkook’s cheeks are tainted pink in frustration and you can’t help but to be concerned, the back of your hand already flitting against his forehead before you know it. “Are you okay? Sorry, the AC in here is not like the AC in the city.”
“Huh, what? Oh no, it’s okay. I just got into this heated cart argument,” he waves you off, eyes rapidly moving between you, your mom, and Yoongi who’s mirroring his exact actions, except for the glaring hint of annoyance with the way he’s standing so close to you.
“Cart argument? What’s-…”
“We need meat.”
You barely even have a chance to digest what Jungkook’s saying to you before you see him glitch right in front of you in a hurry, the only words to register clearly in your mind being your mom’s. She’s absent-mindedly talking herself through her grocery list (as she always does) and yet the two men right next to her hang onto her every word, the speed they take off on giving you no clue to why they’re acting as such.
“I’ll get it, auntie!” Yoongi gets out even before the wheels of his cart could cooperate, momentarily tripping over himself. Jungkook sputters at that, the laughter that builds in his throat being interrupted because he realizes that the other guy is ahead of him and he simply cannot bear that.
“Beef. We need beef, right, mom? How many kilos. Like… ten? Okay. I’ll get it!” Jungkook dashes even if he’s never been in this grocery store before; even if your mom hasn’t said a single word to either of them.
You’re left dumbfounded in the middle of the store, your gaze unable to locate the distinct sounds of both of their sneakers skidding against the floor.
“I didn’t even say anything,” your mom mutters in confusion, eyes flitting to you with a wonder you can’t place because even if the both of you are lost, she seems to have a better idea than you do. “Are they… competing over you, sweetie?”
“Competing? Me? Why would you even say that, mom?” you huff, leaning against the cart as you snatch her list to get the things she’s actually looking for.
“I don’t know,” she lulls, shrugging carelessly before nudging you. “Jungkook’s your boyfriend and well, I assume Yoongi’s always wanted to be in his position.”
“How did you even come to that conclusion?”
“Small town. Few people. Cute girl, cute guy,” she places, the end of her hypothesis being accompanied by a chuckle. When she says it like that, it sounds far too easy — it sounds far too seamless, you almost wish it was exactly that. “I didn’t even take the news that Yoongi was going abroad seriously because I thought it was a joke. I thought he could never move on from here or Namjoon,” your mom pouts, tilting her head when you freeze. “Much more, he could never move on from you.”
“He did,” you answer through gritted teeth, the grip you have on her list making the paper crumple underneath your hold.
Your mom doesn’t know everything. In fact, you don’t even know if she knows anything at all. You don’t despise her for her lack of involvement because you want to keep her from the chaos of your burdens, and you’ve always wanted to keep it that way.
But the way she speaks now, so full of conviction and faith, you find yourself despising it. She speaks as surely as the way Yoongi speeds past the both of you, weaving through aisles to get items she didn’t ask for, competing for and against a higher power (read: you) that Jungkook himself seeks.
She says it so surely, it’s as if she knows about every waking thought that Yoongi’s ever had in your absence.
“It doesn’t look like he did.”
You ponder over your mom’s adoration for Yoongi, most of which you can’t decipher if it’s misplaced or not. You know he’ll always have a special place in her heart and in her home because she’s known him even before he was born because she’s best friends with Mrs. Min.
Yoongi has a place in your life, no matter if it’s in your own or in the lives of the people you love. He probably has a modern penthouse in Namjoon’s life, the decoration in it improving over time. On the other hand, Yoongi probably occupies an ancestral cabin in your mom’s life that’s been well-maintained for longer than he’s ever been alive, the decor in it being handmade and resilient through the years.
In your life, however, you can’t tell how and if Yoongi occupies it in the first place. For the longest time, his place in your life had come in the form of a mansion that not even a single architect nor engineer could ever think of. For a moment too, Yoongi’s place in your heart came in the form of a little house on a vast farm overlooking the mountains and the sea. Throughout all the houses that Yoongi’s shape-shifted to in your life, you doubt now if he could ever turn into them again.
When you think of Yoongi, all you see is your room.
When you see Yoongi, all you could remember is your childhood house and its shortcomings in your life, especially when you needed to come home to it— to him, the most.
“I’ll pay, mom,” Jungkook snaps you out of your reverie, his whine making your ears ring.
“What? No, Jungkook. This is all too much,” you refuse vehemently, trying to fight him from extending his black card any further.
“It’s not. This is for your family anyway. I, I might have even grabbed extra portions for myself because mom said she’ll repeat tomorrow what she did for lunch today,” he grins, momentarily losing himself to the sight of you that he doesn’t even notice he’s in the process of being one-upped by Yoongi.
“Jungkook, baby, I’ll feel-…”
“I paid for it, auntie,” Yoongi announces, making your lips part and Jungkook’s jaw drop.
“You shouldn’t have, Yoongi,” you scold him softly, a whine already building at the back of your throat but he waves you off easily. Your mom’s thanking him profusely in the background, and while Yoongi’s pleased with the attention, his gaze remains on you.
“But I wanted to,” he insists, pursing his lips. “I should.”
“You’re not family,” is what you want to say.
“But I want to be,” is what he wants to scream.
Wordlessly, Yoongi puts a plastic toy ring he bought from the register into your bag. It’s pink and it’s star-shaped, its mold still the same from all those years ago.
.
.
.
You barrel into your mom’s room just to see Namjoon.
You bit at the chance of giving him the stuff he’s asked for from the grocery as per your mom, taking advantage of her focus on organizing the groceries downstairs to have a one-on-one with your brother.
“You have to make Yoongi drive into the city tonight. Either that or he flies to the US. The reunion is already tomorrow,” you seethe, crossing your arms as he sighs in defeat.
“It’s already late. Yoongi’s driving with Haneul, a kid, alone,” he emphasizes, running a hand through his hair as he himself is troubled by you being in a bind over everything. “And he can’t book a flight back on such short notice.”
“Short notice? What, did he just happen to book a one-way flight and not a round trip one?” you snort in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief. The thought actually cracks you up because out of the three of you, Yoongi happened to be the one more adept to websites despite your limited materials back then. Namjoon remains silent, and with how serious he looks, your face falls.
You can’t believe Yoongi at all.
“He did? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Joon,” you groan, throwing your head back. “What, does that mean Yoongi gets to stay in our home while we’re in this godforsaken family reunion?”
Namjoon delivers yet another blow, his revelation making you more enraged than the last.
“Mom invited them.”
“What? Why?!” you exclaim, chest rising in frustration. “Yoongi’s not family, Namjoon. Atleast not for me.”
He doesn’t miss your added remark at the end of your sentence, the underhandedness of it making him look down on the floor.
Namjoon feels guilty, he really does, but he can’t seem to make it right. He couldn’t even fight you in insisting to apologize that night.
For each day that you try to delay the inevitable of confronting him and letting him taking the fall, of letting him apologize, Namjoon feels more like a big failure for an older brother than he already is.
“But he used to be,” he says under his breath, looking up at you with a stubbornness you can’t place. “Your lifetime versus those five years — which one amounts to more?”
( ♡ )
Everyone gushes over Jungkook.
In an altitude higher than the mountainside that you’re in now, the aunts, uncles, and cousins you didn’t even know you have squeal over your fake boyfriend. By the fifth relative, you’ve already got your routine down of letting them hug you and kiss your cheek before holding Jungkook’s bicep, acting as his bodyguard to make sure they don’t squeeze him too hard or not at all.
“Oh my god, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook is your boyfriend?!”
“I knew it, I knew you were gonna have a partner who’s famous! I dreamed about it when you were-…”
“If that’s your boyfriend, then who’s he?” your cousin (?) whispers to you, cutting himself off as he turns his gaze to Yoongi and Haneul. They’re most certainly not your family, meaning that they’re unrelated to everyone present, so what your relatives (some more nosy than others) can’t wrap their heads around is the fact that there are strangers in your family reunion.
It takes one, two times for your mom and Namjoon to explain who they are and what they’re doing here in the first place, the chorus of nods eventually signaling that they’ve moved on. Some of them could even recall Mr. and Mrs. Min from the neighborhood, and Yoongi could only nod.
It’s not that he doesn’t belong right now — he actually feels the opposite. Yoongi feels that he has a place amongst a barrage of relatives he’s not affiliated to by neither blood nor paper, and it pains him; not because he’s scared of belonging, but because you probably don’t think the same way.
Haneul runs to him underneath the umbrella he’s isolated himself at, his son grasping an assortment of cash, food, and juiceboxes Yoongi most certainly did not pack in Haneul’s backpack from the night before.
“Auntie’s family is really nice, appa. Look what they gave me,” he shows everything that his hands could carry, breathing heavily in excitement as he explains that your relatives told him to come back once his hands are empty.
“Oh dear. They really think you’re adorable,” he laughs, pocketing Haneul’s cash (he swears he’ll give it back) and hiding some of the snacks he’s been given so he wouldn’t give himself heartburn eating too many at once.
Yoongi’s smiling from ear to ear, sitting Haneul in his lap as he overlooks the view of your town from above. Everything looks so small and delicate, you’d almost think none of what laid downhill ever even mattered. He didn’t get views like these in New York.
Yoongi didn’t get people like you in New York.
“Mama’s family isn’t this nice,” Haneul speaks out of nowhere, his thoughts uttered out loud directed more-on to himself than it is for his dad. Yoongi stops in his tracks in trepidation, shoulders tensing over what his son just said. “They never play with me like this. Not like auntie.”
He knows Hyewon’s relatives, albeit not that well. Her family members in the US were not this kind, not this warm, even to a child who’s actually related to them.
Yoongi’s stuck in his thoughts the whole time Haneul sips on his juice, finally being snapped into his reality nowwhen you approach their direction. His son waves at you excitedly even if you’ve just crossed paths minutes ago.
“Here, Haneul,” you hold out a container to him, the gentle smile on your face limited to only him yet Yoongi, for a lack of grace, pretends it’s also for him. “I tried my best to make it look like Bluey,” you chuckle, pointing to the mini sculpture made out of the marshmallows and blueberries that your relatives set aside for him.
Haneul beams at you, thanking you profusely. If only he wasn’t sat on Yoongi’s lap and therefore grounded, he would’ve launched himself at you to hug your legs.
Yoongi takes the hat right off his head, putting it on you while you’re crouched next to his son.
“It’s hot,” he explains, his heart continuously speaking beats the longer that you linger beside Haneul and the longer that he giggles in excitement. “I know you get headaches easily.”
( ♡ )
Despite being reachable, Yoongi still yearns for you.
He yearns for you even if you’re only within arm’s reach, sitting near you but never close enough at the long table because with you, he feels safe. He laughs in the background like it’s a sitcom to every joke and every episode of banter thrown around him. He doesn’t feel out of place with your family — he feels out of place with you.
He’s never been a wickedly jealous type. Even when he and Hyewon were still together and she cheated on him, Yoongi felt more resentful than he was jealous. He didn’t feel this type of way; he didn’t feel inferior. He didn’t feel like he was nursing a loss in his life because he has no choice but to. Yoongi had managed to divorce Hyewon because it didn’t work out between them, and that was that.
Yoongi can neither divorce you nor pull away from you because you’ve never been with each other. He harbors no resentment for you and that scares him, not because he wants to hate you so badly, but because he feels as if everything you’ll do to him, he’ll take it.
Yoongi will take it even if you set a plate for Jungkook despite unconsciously forgetting what he’s always disliked eating when you were still kids. He’ll take the serving tray from your hands still, uncaring if eating the tiniest bite of the food you’ve passed gives him an allergic reaction because you were the one who offered.
He’ll take it even if you hold Jungkook’s bicep in a hurry when there’s a bug that’s getting awfully close to your drink. Yoongi would walk to where you sit and dispose of it wordlessly because even Jungkook himself is scared of bugs. He doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him, because atleast now when he looks at you from a distance, you’re sitting in relaxation and you no longer have to hold your boyfriend.
He’ll endure the jealousy that burns through his throat more than the poorly-made, highly-alcoholic vodka your uncle made himself. He’ll hold onto the poison that is yearning and how he’ll feel like his throat would close up because if you were still young, in this setting of free rein, except you were still in love him like you used to be and he’s in love with you like he is now, neither you and Yoongi would be hurting.
Yoongi will take it. He’ll take the nothing that you give him and give you the everything that you don’t ask for anymore.
Five years versus the rest of your lifetime that you spent being in love with him is only miniscule. The suffering that he’s going through now is only a speck of the years you’ve spent in an unrequited love.
Unlike you, Yoongi’s weak. If he were to say it outloud to you, you’ll never agree because you’ve never regarded yourself otherwise. You’ll go on this tangent that you’ve always been weak, influenced by the times that Yoongi had chastised you for your lack of a passion.
To you, Yoongi had been right in a way.
To Yoongi, he’s always been in the wrong.
He’s crying to you now that the both of you are alone, overlooking the small town he used to be keen on getting out of. Now, more than ever, Yoongi wants to stay in it. He wants to stay with you.
“Why is everything with you so hard?” Yoongi whispers, his tears stinging badly from the corner of his eyes to the point that he can only make out shapes. He’s unkempt and frantic as if his life flashed before his eyes and there’s nothing he could do about it, voice strained like much of the times he’s drank himself to sleep.
He resembles Haneul at the moment. He’s always had because there’s not one bit of Hyewon in his son’s features or personality, but he looks especially like him now that he’s crying. The back of his hands harshly dig into his face, sobs bursting right from his throat. “Why do I make everything so hard for us? Why can’t I— w-why can’t I make it right for once?”
There’s a tremble to your chest that you ignore earnestly, the presence of it enough to scare you because it’s familiar; too familiar. Seeing your past play out in front of you in the form of a seemingly content family sleeping on your bed is one thing, but it’s another to see its patriarch crumble in front of you. It’s different to see your past pleading in front of you for just the slightest bit of your attention.
As a matter of fact, it’s different now because you resemble Yoongi the most.
“You never tried,” you seethe, jumping the gun before you even try to decipher what’s in the barrel. It’s a bullet you fire haphazardly that comes from your pocket that you’ve always held onto. It’s a misplaced, misshapen, old bullet that you force into a gun that Yoongi passed onto you.
Right now, Yoongi doesn’t resemble Haneul, and neither does he resemble his ex-wife.
He resembles you with the way his eyes are clearly swimming in hurt while you avoid looking at his, just to relieve the painstaking feeling of guilt and longing compacted into a sob.
“I never tried?” Yoongi exhales shakily, his quivering hands running through his hair to tug on them.“I never tried?”
You hear yourself clearly even if it’s his voice. The tremble and the anger, even all the way to the blind hope.
“I kept trying to reach out to you every single time. Every single birthday, every single Christmas, every insignificant holiday I could search up!” Yoongi cries — he actually thrashes with the way he sobs, shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t try? If I didn’t try, try looking at every page of my passport to see all the stamps there are whenever fucking Jungkook was reported to be in another country,” he spits his name like poison, the vitriol behind it, however, never catching up to what he feels about himself.
You resemble Yoongi the most because you stand untethered, eyes blurring and lips quivering, yet you only watch him lose himself before thinking of uttering a single word.
“I’m selfish, I’m an asshole, and I’m fucking insufferable. I can’t even apologize to you correctly,” Yoongi lists, chest rising up and down too heavily, he feels like it’ll give out. “But I love you, Y/N. I-I might be every bad thing in your life right now and I own up to that. I’m still trying to be the best for you.”
Not only does Yoongi resemble you — he’s actually become you.
“You can call me the vilest names ever but you can’t say that,” he grits, teeth chattering not from the cold he’s put himself in, but because he can’t stop mentioning your name in between. “You can’t say I never tried because I always have. I’ll never stop becausethat’s what it takes,” Yoongi mutters; because, he says, not if.
“I love you,” he says it far too clearly for someone who’s drunk; far too sincerely for someone who had spent the better part of his life putting it through your head that he can’t return your affection. “I’ve always loved you.”
( ♡ )
You don’t feel good.
There’s a fever that’s starting to bloom from the base of your skull all the way to your toes, the abnormal warmth you feel in your chest making you unable to interact with everyone else outside of your room. Jungkook had left with your uncles before dawn to go fishing in the nearby lake and never would you think to inconvenience him; to tend to someone like you for something as minor as a fever, or for anything at all.
You already have a system down for taking care of yourself when you’re ill. It started when neither your mom nor your brother were home with you, and it was finally perfected when you had to live completely alone in the big city. All you had to do was gather all the energy you have, spend it at the start to get everything you could possibly need and put them all at the side of your bed, and rest until everything no longer hurts.
The major flaw with your system now is that you don’t have the energy at all. You can’t build up the strength to get up, walk across the hall and interact with your relatives, and rummage through groceries to get what you need without being questioned; you can’t build up the sense of importance you have for yourself to ask for help.
Namjoon comes into your room before you could dance around the idea of asking him to get you water, all because he has this innate sense of guilt in him and you could utilize it to your advantage. Your brother gets ahead of you before you could even register that he’s here with you, his eyes sullen and pleading.
“Can we talk?”
“I can’t exactly storm off right now,” you rasp, your voice fading out into a low chuckle.
“Do you want to talk when you’re able to storm off?” he asks sincerely with a small smile, his hand fixing your hair as gently as he could without making your migraine ring further. “If you do though, then you probably might never hear me out again.”
You stay silent because he is right, but Namjoon feels otherwise. He feels as if he hasn’t been doing anything right at all and you existing separate from him is a constant reminder. His career is at its peak but he thinks he could go higher; his relationship with you is deteriorating and he doesn’t think it could possibly be worse.
“I’m sorry for being a shitty brother,” he apologizes, the first thing out of his mouth being the last thing that floods his mind before he goes to sleep at night. “I should’ve never defended Yoongi, even Hyewon by extension.”
The heat behind your eyes isn’t all from your fever. The tears that prick your eyes aren’t because of the pressure in your head, but because of the fact that you haven’t heard Namjoon apologize to you in a long time; you haven’t talked this sincerely for even longer
“I should’ve put you first,” he sniffles, muttering apologies in between his pauses for finding the right words that would make it okay; that would somehow undo all that he’s been an accomplice to. “I should’ve been this reliable, sturdy man of the house. I-I should’ve been more of a father figure to you-…”
“Don’t,” you interject sternly. “You never filled in his shoes and you should never will. You’re only mom’s son and my brother, Namjoon. It’s never been your job to raise me.”
Even after everything, there’s a gentleness to you that Namjoon’s always loved but hate the most now. He hates that even if he’s the one who’s apologizing, you’re the one who’s saying sorry for the things you didn’t even inflict on him. Neither of you wanted to be raised by only a single parent, yet you absolve him of the guilt he’s always felt.
“But I could’ve been better. I wish I was already better from the start.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think how hard life was for you growing up. I-I would’ve given up football if only-…” he trembles, unable to get the last of his sentence out because you shake your head in earnest.
“Stop.”
“But I mean it. If only I-I didn’t get into football, I could’ve been there for you and mom much often. I could’ve been better and-...”
“But I grew up to be okay, didn’t I? You’re the best at what you do. We’ve managed to retire mom early because we put in the work,” you whisper, the shrug of your shoulders feeling more heavy that it should feel because the words don’t come out easily from you.
“But okay shouldn’t have been enough for you,” Namjoon tears up, bottom lip trembling as you try to take in his words that you’ve always wanted to hear at the back of your mind; you hear them now when you’ve already grown up. You hear them now after you’ve already endured the grief. “I— we should’ve given you the fighting chance to grow up more than okay.”
.
.
.
It’s not Jungkook who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because you’ve temporarily banned him from the bedroom. He only pouted in complaint when you called him, but he didn’t fight you that much either because you’ve called him out for the excitement in his voice to go hiking for the first time.
It’s not Yoongi who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because Haneul asked him to teach him Go (he’s not even that good at it and being the ever unable to show incompetence and have pride especially when Jungkook’s watching father, he discreetly asked lessons from your mom) so he’ll be able to play with your cousins.
Instead, it’s your mom who visits you. Even if Namjoon hadn’t tipped her off that you were feeling under the weather, she’s already had a feeling this morning.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her hands full of everything you could possibly need and more before plopping them at your side. She makes you sit up even before you could complain, handing you a drink with some medicine you didn’t even know she carried
“Just a little fever,” you answer, getting back into your cocoon.
You don’t even attempt to make conversation because you fear that you don’t have it in you to have a heart-to-heart talk with your mom just minutes after you’ve had one with Namjoon.
You don’t even say anything to her except your thanks. Namjoon didn’t even tell her about your conversation, even if he approached her with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes while saying that it was just allergies.
Your mom feels the guilt spring to her chest even if you don’t utter a single word. She feels the remorse in her eyes when you don’t ask her for anything more. She feels the guilt the most in her hands when you don’t ask her to stay.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like there wasn’t enough space for your burdens growing up.”
“What?”you scramble to get up in a seated position, eyes hazy from how quick you do it. “Mom, you scared me. Where’s this coming from?”
She shakes her head at your cluelessness, eyes stinging when you genuinely look at her innocently. You don’t know what she’s talking about, even if the thought has plagued her for so long.
“You’re not really okay, are you?”
“It’s… just a fever,” you mumble, your breathing already trembling at the way she looks at you.
She’s looking at you like you’re still a kid; ever so fragile and innocent, it’s as if she wouldn’t let a single thing in this world harm you. She doesn’t know a single thing about your feud with Namjoon and your long drawn-out conflict with Yoongi. What your mom does know is that she doesn’t know a single thing about the heartbreak you suppress, and that thought alone makes her hiccup in tears.
“You’re right, you know? Our house is small,” she says, distinctly recalling the tensioned conversation you had with Namjoon back at home. “It’s tiny but it was far too big for you growing up alone,” she inhales sharply, trying not to sob in front of you. “He wasn’t in the picture. I was working a hundred jobs left and right. Namjoon was trying to make a name for himself,” she shakes her head, so much so that the necklace she’s had since you were children, the same one with yours and Namjoon’s birthstones on it, rattles. “I’m sorry for making you feel that you can’t come to me.”
In just a full day, you’ve heard everything that you’ve ever wanted. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted during the school plays where you had no one from your family, except Yoongi, to watch you become an extra up on stage. He’d always deny that he did show up for you and just say that it’s because he was genuinely interested in a play about a poet he didn’t care about in reality, but you take it nonetheless.
It’s everything you’ve ever prayed for watching Yoongi live a life far too advanced for you as he held Hyewon’s hand after school. It’s what you wanted to hear when you begged him not to leave you behind.
“I-I’m okay. I’m really-…” you stutter, looking away before your tears fall in the fear that they’ll never stop.
Your mom only hugs you tighter.
“I’m here if you want someone else to carry your burdens,” she whispers. “I’m here now.”
( ♡ )
It’s the last day of the reunion when you fully recover, and it’s hours ahead of everyone when Jungkook has to leave by himself.
Without even asking for it, Jungkook grants you another week’s worth of break. You didn’t even plan on asking, yet Jungkook’s willing to give you a month if only you do.
You’ve already arranged for his personal driver to pick him up and take him back to the city. You’ve already packed his bags, along with the multiple containers of food that your relatives (and especially your mom) insisted for him to take. You’ve arranged for your substitute to take care of him for his schedules throughout the week, along with the insistent reminder to call you whenever Jungkook needs you. (Read: he does, with or without a schedule.)
Everything is set for Jungkook to leave except for his driver who’d been roped by your mom to be filled with breakfast first, yet with the remaining minutes left, Jungkook’s still with you on your bed.
He lies on your lap even if there’s plenty of space for him to lie parallel to you on a pillow — and you let him.
“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” he asks in the middle of you texting your substitute, the randomness of his thought already being familiar to you. This time, unlike the few thousand times he’s ever asked you something straight off his mind without refining them, is different.
It’s different now because your pretend-boyfriend asks you if you’ve ever thought about kissing him, while looking like he really wants to kiss you.
“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, looking down on him on your lap.
Not once does Jungkook ever look away from you.
“Dunno,” he shrugs, pointing up at you. “Your lips are close to bleeding and it’s bothering me.”
“Sorry for turning you off,” you snort in laughter, wiping at the tiny specks of blood. Jungkook tuts when you rub at them, feeling for his lip balm out of his pocket.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stresses, going a little cross-eyes when he applies them for you. His eyes keep goading you, the smile he has on his face widening the more that you look at him incredulously. “Sooo… have you?”
You don’t want to lie to him at all.
“If I answer yes, Jungkook,” you toy around with his hair, setting your phone face-down because you can’t focus on anything else now. “We can never come back from that.”
Jungkook laughs in glee so loudly, Yoongi (who was only passing by; he really, really swears he didn’t just happen to eavesdrop in your room because Jungkook’s driver is all done eating and wants to beat traffic) actually flinches.
Jungkook strains to be closer to you, unconsciously training you to lean down. His lips are far too soft — far too close to you, you could see every line and every nuance in them. He whispers, eyes practically crossing at your proximity.
“And is that such a bad thing?”
( ♡ )
You’re back at home when Jungkook texts you that he’s made it back safe, and that he wants to kiss you again.
You’re back at home when Yoongi asks you if he could use the bathroom first because Haneul spilled milk on him during the drive. You’re in your childhood bedroom when you let him clean up first, and you’re sitting on your childhood bed when you volunteer to put Haneul down because he’s cranky and for some reason, wants to be held by you.
You’re back at home too when Yoongi and Haneul are knocked out for the night, and your mom calls you and Namjoon down for all three of you to talk at the dining table.
You’re back at the home you were raised in, sitting on the dining table that’s creaky when more than two people lean their weight into it, in the space you’ve roamed around alone waiting for them to come home, when your mom talks about wanting to sell it.
“You want to sell?” Namjoon’s eyes widen, exchanging a glance with you who’s as equally surprised as he is.
“Yes. It’s under my name, y’know? Not that… man’s,” she snorts, the off-hand mention of your father making you and Namjoon laugh unexpectedly. Your mom looks at ease as she talks about selling your house, the smile she has one her face being shaped with experience and grace. “I doubt the both of you would want to keep this, and besides, the offers I’ve kept for years now are high. You already know that big-shot companies have been buying out houses here for years now because of the growth potential and whatnot. Who knows, maybe our block will be turned into a mall!” she shrugs, the happiness in her tone infectious.
For someone who’s decided on letting go the house she’s both struggled and strived in, your mom’s beyond excited.
For two adults, who were once kids, who’ve seen the amount of sacrifices your mother’s put into the place by herself, you and Namjoon don’t have any objections.
“Also, consider this as me asking for permission to go on a vacation, even if I’m grown, because some people get so paranoid when I don’t answer calls,” she digs at you and your brother, immediately inciting coughs because you two, in fact, are guilty of worrying over your mom too much. “I’m going on this worldwide trip with Yoongi’s mom,” she grins, pulling out one last surprise. “We’ve talked about it since we were young. She’s earned her stripes working abroad, I managed to raise two amazing children as a single mom. We’ve earned it, I think.”
You and Namjoon share a glance once again, this time more definite than the last. You’ve made up already as far as your mom could tell, and that confirmation is what she needs before finally selling the house you all grew up in.
“You’ve earned it more than anyone.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s packing up for their flight tonight when you go into your room to pack up the life you’ve lived there.
“You’re coming with me and Haneul?” Yoongi jokes when he sees you pulling out your own luggage, the tone of his voice highly suggesting for you to become serious. He gets you to smile and that’s big enough of a win as is, the remainder of it more than substantial to hold onto when he’s away from you. Again.
“No, unfortunately. I’m packing up the room and eventually… the whole house,” you answer with a chuckle, voice trailing off when you see the crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face. He looks like someone who’s just absorbed the largest pain to man as he’s trying not to make it obvious. “We’re posting it for sale two weeks from now.”
Yoongi nods tightly, inhaling sharply as he tries to maintain his steady tone. “Then why are you packing up already?”
You could do this tomorrow. As a matter of fact, you could do it tonight because you don’t have to drive them to the airport. You have all the time in the world within two weeks to do this, yet you go into your room now when Yoongi’s still in it.
When Yoongi still hasn’t left, and neither of you know when you’re gonna see each other next.
“I have to get a move on. If I don’t move now,” you trail, voice close to trembling as you open cabinets you’ve never even given the time of day before. “I’m scared that I’ll keep holding onto this house.
Yoongi nods, even if he fully understands — even if he doesn’t want to swallow what you’re saying.
“You want out?”
“We want out — me, mom, Namjoon,” you explain, looking at him properly for the first time since he told you that he loved you. “For the longest time, we’ve held onto this place because we became this house at one point. Namjoon’s this world star, my mom’s traveling the world with your mom-…”
“Oh, they’re finally doing it?” Yoongi interrupts, a smile finally coming to his face at the news. He hasn’t talked to his mom in a month from how busy he’s been, and although he’s always missed her (even if they’re on much better terms than he and his dad could be), he’s happy knowing that your moms have each other atleast. “How about you? What will you be doing?”
“I’ll just be… living day-to-day. I’m not doing anything extremely special, but I’m happy and busy doing it,” you laugh, looking around your room that hasn’t appeared this clean, this warm, since you last stayed in it. “No one’s going to be around here anymore.”
As if on cue, Haneul runs to Yoongi’s arms to be picked up. He knows what the luggages mean and because he’s largely in denial that they have to leave later (as referenced by him crying to your mom and Namjoon), Haneul keeps pretending to sleep so that their trip gets delayed.
Yoongi’s about to put him on your bed even if he knows his son’s antics already, but in the fear that he’ll actually get to sleep and they don’t get to leave (which he isn’t opposed to at all), he keeps him in his arms.
You, on the other hand, take Haneul from him when his arms outstretch for you.
There’s the sentiment of you not having to do it that’s resting at the tip of Yoongi’s tongue but he holds himself back, the image of you and Haneul completely fitting one another, he wants to burn a copy of it to his retinas and designate it to be the last thing he’ll see if he ever goes blind.
Without putting Haneul to sleep on your bed, he goes to sleep in peace in your arms.
“Do you regret it?” Yoongi asks throughout the silence between you, sitting next to you at the edge of your bed. “Do you regret ever liking me?”
“I do,” you answer truthfully, rubbing circles at the Haneul’s back. “I regret knowing you.”
Yoongi takes the responsibility fully, even fuller than the way both your hurt and happiness could make or break him.
“I can’t take back all the hurt I’ve caused you,” he admits just as honestly, turning to look at you. He becomes surprised to learn that you’ve been looking at him the whole time. “But what I can promise you is that I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.”
“I have my share of faults too.”
“Eh. Mostly mine.”
“Mostly yours, yeah,” you laugh easily, nodding to yourself as you continue. “But I held onto you as much as you didn’t hold onto me. That’s my mistake.”
Yoongi stays silent at that, not because he agrees, but because the bias that you’ll never be wrong in his eyes overtakes your humbleness.
“Do you think he’ll remember the entirety of the trip?” you ask, gesturing to Haneul who’s already sleeping like a hibernating bear in your hold. “Or will Haneul just remember that time the power went out because he cried a lot?”
“Oh, he’ll remember everything alright. He’s good with retention and people in general,” Yoongi waves you off. “Even if he didn’t come along the trip— even if we didn’t crash the whole thing, Haneul would remember you.”
“Who am I to him?” you ask in curiosity, lips turning into a straight line before they curve in the slightest. “Appa’s friend, I bet.”
“Not really. You’re a lot of things to me,” Yoongi chuckles, looking at the way Haneul grips you as if you’ll float away if he lets go; he’d do the same too. “More like my first love.”
Yoongi loves you quietly.
He loves you quietly with the way he draws the curtains downstairs when you sleep on the couch, tired and stressed over a solution you couldn’t understand. He loves you with the way he’ll scoop the warmest, freshest, least-burnt portion of rice to your bowl without you even asking for it. He loves you with the way he’s willing to let you walk all over him.
He loves you quietly in the way that not even distance nor time could disrupt him.
Yoongi loves you quietly, it might have been too much.
“Is that a lottery ticket?” he asks suddenly as he spots the familiar face of it inside your luggage, tucked into the discreet pocket where your mother’s letters of encouragement when you went to the big city were also kept
“Oh, it’s still there,” you answer, in surprise yourself because even if this is the same luggage you use whenever you go out of the country with Jungkook, you’ve never noticed that it was still there. “I bought it when you left for the US.”
Yoongi stops in his tracks in retrieving the scratch ticket from the pocket, looking up at you in curiosity. “Why did you buy one that day?”
Haneul stirs in his sleep in your arms, waking up right at the middle of you and Yoongi being lost in each other. He mistakes the silence as a signal that they’ll be leaving already, making a mess of himself as he quickly goes down the stairs to look for your family there and cling to them instead.
You and Yoongi are alone again.
“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, grasping the scratch ticket you used to spend hours looking. “I guess I just needed some proof that fate was against me that day.”
“But how would you even know that?” Yoongi asks, pointing to the card that’s still covered. “You didn’t even scratch it.”
You answer honestly, the reason burnt to the back of his mind.
“Because I knew I would lose my mind if I actually lost.”
“Try,” Yoongi swallows, nudging the ticket closer to you with a gaze that mirrored yours when he left. “Try again. Please.”
You have nothing else to lose.
Yoongi isn’t yours to lose.
You retrieve the same old coin Yoongi gave to you on the same day that he bought you your first scratch ticket, the appearance of it from your luggage making his heart skip a beat.
He doesn’t speak and neither do you, gaze only fixed on the way you scratch the card almost hesitantly, as if you’re still scared of the results of something that you should’ve known five years ago. (Read: you still are.)
When you get to the last digit, you freeze. You comb through the pattern over and over again, yet you still can’t believe it.
You’ve won the highest possible prize.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” you parrot Yoongi, looking up at him as he can’t believe it either.
“You won.”
“I won,” you repeat, running a hand through your hair. You actually laugh, the lump in your throat subsiding. It’s a welcome, albeit loaded, feeling of happiness that comes in between the two of you. “I thought I would lose,” you mutter bitterly, shaking your head.
You didn’t lose. Fate wasn’t against you that day, and yet you still lost yourself thinking subconsciously what the proof of it would’ve been.
“Who would’ve thought, right?” you sigh, eyes drifting to Yoongi. “If only I took that chance years ago, I would’ve won.”
Yoongi smiles tightly, breath faltering in recollection.
“I’m familiar with the feeling,”
Yoongi doesn’t get to finish packing for him and Haneul and neither do you with your whole room, the shift in the atmosphere suddenly making him stand.
He’s breathless and he doesn’t know what for, the rapid beating of his chest making his voice louder than necessary. “Hey, what do you say you take a break? I’ll pack up your room. I have to stay alert anyway for Haneul."
You thank him before leaving him alone in your room.
Yoongi can’t find the strength in him to pack. The only power he has left in him is for him to think of taking everything out from his luggages, the thought of leaving again, this time worlds different than the last when you were begging him not to — he feels like throwing up.
Yoongi’s merely an amalgamation of you. He’s only a compilation of your every word, every feeling you’ve implanted in his heart. He’s filled with nothing but your every triumph and shortcoming; every late night hanging out with you as you attempt to study while he keeps you company, every minute he spent going out of his mind trying to look for you when you ran away from home.
Yoongi loves you silently to the point that he gets out of your room without accomplishing a single thing he said he’ll do just awhile ago.
In the grand scheme of things, Yoongi realizes that he was wrong. He was as wrong as you were right that the moment he leaves home, he’ll spend the rest of his life looking for it.
Even if you left your home like he did, even if neither of you could come home anymore the moment your childhood house gets sold, Yoongi would still search for it. He’ll still search for you. You’re no longer where you were, but you are everywhere that Yoongi is.
He looks for you in Namjoon’s room, to the dining table, and all the way outside, just to ask if he and Haneul could stay for dinner.
Yoongi finds you and Haneul eating sundaes on the pavement outside, with you on the ground and a scrap cardboard underneath Haneul so it wouldn’t be hot for him.
Fate hadn’t been against you five years ago. And even if he’s much too late, Yoongi could only pray that fate isn’t against him now.
He walks over to where you and Haneul are, grabbing another scrap of cardboard to put underneath you.
Yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.
#WHEWWWWWW HOW R WE FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine#yoongi oneshot#yoongi series#yoongi angst#yoongi angst imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi au#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi scenario#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x you#bts yoongi imagine#bts yoongi x reader
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Baby Maker
→ Summary: You and Yoongi have been relishing the comfort of your newly married life, savoring each moment together. However, there's an additional want tugging at your heartstrings – the thought of becoming a mother. That’s right, you want a baby. Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s ready for the journey of bringing a baby into your lives. But he’ll agree to anything that makes you happy, and if it’s a baby you want, it’s a baby you’ll get.
↠ myg x f.reader | 1k words | 18+
↠ genre: slice of life, romance, fluff, smut, newlyweds
→ Warnings: unprotected sex (intentional), daddy kink, impregnation kink, deep dicking, belly bulge, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie
→ Author note: This is a remix/update of an older fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you'd like to read this on ao3 instead it's been crossposted here! And as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3
You wrap your arms around your husband the second he walks through the front door of your home.
"Mmm, I've waited all day for this," you whisper before pulling him into a long kiss. One of your hands cradles his cheek while the other plays with his hair.
"Well, hello there Mrs. Min," Yoongi says with a sideways smile sprawled across his face after pulling away, "What's got you in such a good mood?" He takes off his blazer and sets his work bag down on the bench in your entryway as you pull him into another lengthy kiss, one that makes Yoongi's groin stir with excitement.
You smile up at him and start to unbutton his top as you pull him further into your home, your end goal being the bedroom.
"Baby?" he asks with dark eyes, "Are you planning on spoiling me with dessert before dinner tonight?"
You laugh, "Baby, I don't want dessert... I want a baby."
Yoongi's face changes from one of eager anticipation to confusion, then to pure and utter shock.
‘Did all the air in the room suddenly disappear? Why aren’t you having trouble breathing like he is?’
"I want to make a baby with you," you repeat, looking into his fear-filled eyes. You figured he'd be a little freaked out, but not this much.
He coughs and sputters, pulling at the neck of his button-up shirt. "You, uh, b-baby?" Yoongi mutters once he’s able to form words again.
"Yes, a baby," you took a step back from him. "It's been almost three years since we've gotten married and talked about having kids in the future. Don't you want a mini you or me to love, to watch them grow, to teach them stuff?"
Yoongi is conflicted, not because he doesn’t want kids –he does– but it scares the shit out of him. That's a whole life to take care of and be responsible for. He knows how much you want a family though, and how patient you have been with him about trying for kids.
You give him that one look - the one that you know will get you whatever you want.
"Alright,” he says, easily won over. “Let's make a baby," he answers while pulling you back into his arms.
Yoongi brings your center up against his. You feel his growing hardness pressing into you through his jeans, and moan through the kiss. You want him.
And he wants you.
His kisses are hot and needy, but somehow still so very loving.
Yoongi lifts you up and carries you urgently the rest of the way to the bedroom, where he lays you down, ready to fuck you. To love you.
Your hands work on his shirt's buttons, undoing them as fast as you can. His run along your hips, making their way to the front of your jeans where he works to undo them, and slips them and your panties off simultaneously.
Your husband keeps eye contact with you while one of his hands slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to the edge of your dewy folds.
“Is this pretty little cunt ready for me?”
You nod frantically, and moan uncontrollably when his tongue dives deep into your core. He savors you, his tongue playing your clit like it's the most intricate instrument.
Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you hold his head in place while he finished you off. You come undone all over his face, his cheeks showing evidence of your release once he pulls away from you.
“I’ll never get tired of your taste,” he breathes. And it’s true, you’re intoxicating. He’s addicted to you.
Yoongi stands up, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, where he then rubs his throbbing cock through your folds, wetting himself just enough to dip into you.
He nearly loses himself, but manages to power through and find a rhythm that has you both heading in the right direction.
His low moans sound like heaven to your ears.
You pull him closer to you until your lips crash together, moaning into each other's mouth while you climb higher and higher.
Needing to sink even further into your heat, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pounding you from a new angle and bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.
“Who’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow? Who’s putting this baby in your belly? I want you to scream my name,” he demands.
“You did,” you pant. “Min Yoongi did.”
“Fuck!” Yoongi grits his teeth as he watches the way your lower belly bulges, matching his hard thrusts.
"I’m so close,” you cry out, your nails digging into your husband’s biceps. “Cum in me," you whine, pleading for him to release into you. Yoongi is more than happy to oblige.
"I love you,” you breathe as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the tingling spreading through your veins.
“I love you more.” Yoongi grunts, his final thrusts becoming more sporadic as he passes the peak, and fills you with his seed. His face twists in pleasure as your pulsating walls milk the last from him.
You’re satisfied feeling his warm release shooting up inside of you. A big grin won’t leave your face, “Thank you.”
He considers making a dick joke, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “You’re welcome, baby,” he says, kissing your cheek.
You roll over onto your back and lift your now tired and heavy legs in the air, and Yoongi gives you a perplexed look. "What?” you ask, "I've heard that this makes the sperm find the egg faster."
He thinks you look ridiculous in the best sort of way, and joins you. "I gain nothing from this but I figured I'd do it to support you."
"You're such a dork." But you love him for it.
"You know what you have to call me later if this worked?" Yoongi asks before answering his own question before you even have the chance. "The baby maker."
Your giggles filled the room and Yoongi can’t help but laugh along with you.
"Alright," you sighed once you calmed down, "I just figured you preferred daddy..."
That same look from earlier flared up in Yoongi's eyes once again, "I'm open to negotiations."
©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.
#kvanity#myg#min yoongi#yoongi#yoongi fanfic#yoongi smut#myg smut#yoongi oneshot#yoongi drabble#yoongi au#suga fanfic#suga smut#suga au#yoongi x reader#min yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts drabble#bts smut#bts oneshot
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laura’s yoongi recs
I’ve been reading fics in here nonstop way before I started this blog. It felt like a sin not compiling a list of some of the stories that I loved and hadn’t gotten around to sharing yet, a few of them safe in my drafts until I was ready to make this.
I will keep on adding onto this list as I keep finding stories I've read before and would love to share with you. Leave some love and appreciation to the authors if you can!
disclaimer: all stories that include mature themes will be labeled accordingly. DNI if you aren’t 18+.
♡ - favorite
S E R I E S
please be naked by @floralseokjin ♡
◦ fuckbuddies au, rebound au, angst, smut, fluff
trip no further by @matchy6812 ♡
◦ soulmate au, idol au, humor, angst, fluff, smut
countermelody by @bonvoyagenoona
◦ producer and artist au, e2f2l, humor, angst, fluff, smut
grey area by @blushoseoks ♡
◦ soulmates au, angst, eventual smut
matilda by @babystrcandy
◦ brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, angst, smut, fluff
mixtape by @sailoryooons
◦ brother’s best friend au, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut
carousel by @yoonia
◦ arranged marriage au, ceo!yoongi, angst, fluff, smut
the deal by @untaemedqueen
◦ drug lord au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut
the songbird series by maia ♡
◦ mxm, yoonmin au, pirate au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, smut
ukiyo by sharleena ♡
◦ mxm, yoonmin au, drug lord au, succubus, angst, fluff, smut
greedy by @xjoonchildx ♡
◦ mafia au, angst, fluff, smut
so it goes by @prodagustd
◦ fwb, angst, fluff, smut
•
O N E - S H O T S
lining’s silver by @sketchguk
◦ fashion designer!yoongi, artist!reader, fluff, smut
mixtape by @jungblue ♡
◦ podcast personality au, college au, humor, fluff, smut
want a taste? by @suga-kookiemonster
◦ friends to lovers, shopping mall au, humor, smut
cream & suga by @snackhobi
◦ holidays au, coffeeshop au, fluff, smut
first, last and always by @floralseokjin
◦ exes to lovers, angst, fluff, brief smut
punch drunk by @joonbird
◦ boxer au, angst, smut
dark side of your room by @sketchguk
◦ ghost yoongi, familiar au, smut, angst
sweetener by @taegularities
◦ former fuckboy au, fwb, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff
sticks & stones by @xpeachesncream
◦ massage au, ex-fwb au, mutual pining, light angst, fluff, smut
•
last updated: 10/06/23
note #1: if any fic recommended is in hiatus, the author has yet to update or left altogether, please do not pester them with updates.
note #2: These are not all of my MYG recs! There’s more with extensive commentary from me here and you can find more of my favorites here
#myg#yoongi series#yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#yoongi au#bts au#bts x reader#min yoongi fic#yoongi recs#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#yoongi oneshot
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𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 | ℂℍ. 𝟞
| 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.
|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐮: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.
| 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
| 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.7K
| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, foul language ( 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 ), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬), 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ( 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬).
| 𝐀/𝐍: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.
𝐂𝐡.𝟏| 𝐂𝐡.𝟐 | 𝐂𝐡.𝟑 | 𝐂𝐡.𝟒 | 𝐂𝐡.𝟓
-
Silence swept into the space in which you and Yoongi shared; the words he had spoken allowed doubt to settle within your determination. He had read you like an open book, and it made you feel vulnerable. You had to admit he was skilled, being able to read through your façade from just one look. Of course, it was humiliating, and it had left you feeling uneasy to say the least, but you had come to him with a purpose, and you wouldn’t waiver just because he had said what you knew to be true.
that you hated being a Jeon.
You took a deep breath and glanced around the room ensuring no one could listen into your conversation.
“I see” you began, pressing your lips together nervously. “You're correct, I didn't come to meet you, I already knew who you were before I came to you and yes, indeed it makes me sick to my stomach to admit that I'm married into this family” you confessed which caused Yoongi to raise his eyebrows in surprise.
He hadn’t expected you to be so forward, to be so vocal regarding your distaste for the Jeon family all while standing in a room full of their loyal comrades. Either you were incredibly dense or really ballsy. Regardless, it intrigued him beyond comprehension. There was something different about you, a drive he couldn’t understand, a hunger in your eyes that he couldn’t avoid.
“Well, what did you come here for exactly?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes on you.
You were hesitant to reply, in your mind a war between your desires and your logic was brewing. You didn’t know anything about the man who stood before you besides his name and his reasons to hate your husband’s family, could you trust him? or would he turn around and stab you on the back? Perhaps, your avidity to find an ally was clouding your better judgement.
Yet, you were in dire need of help. As much as you trusted yourself and your plan, you were more then certain it was not a task that only you could take on.
“I came to you because I need your help” you advised, holding your head high as the words came from your lips. “You and I both hate the Jeon family for our unfortunate reasons” you spoke, your voice faltering. You recalled the details Ha-yoon had shared only moments before and your heart tightened at the thought of what he had lost.
“I come to you with a proposition” you announced, looking around you as some guests passed by causing your words to come to a halt. Yoongi stood in silence, awaiting the words he knew were soon to come. “I want to make an alliance with you,” you continued, once you were alone. “We both have something to gain from their downfall, why don't we help each other?”
Yoongi’s eyes traveled down to his shoes; he took a drink from the whiskey in his hand as he thought over what you had just said. Yoongi wasn’t someone who needed allies, he was sure he could do bad all on his own but having his enemy's wife make such an offer made him reconsider.
“And what makes you think you can trust me?” he pondered, looking back into your eyes.
“I don't but it's a risk I'm willing to take if it means I get to be free” you responded without a hitch in your voice. Yoongi nodded, his eyes trailing to the side “I have to congratulate you Mrs. Y/n, you make a compelling argument” he said, a smirk crawling to his lips.
“I know” you nodded, confidently. “I know that you want this as much as me if not more and, in my opinion, it would be foolish to turn me down” he chuckled at your words, the eagerness that dripped in them reminding him of his own need for retribution.
“What do you have in mind?” he asked, “I mean what is your plan to put an end to them?”
“That is a conversation for a later time, Mr. Min.”
“Is that so?”
“First I need to ensure you are on my side,” you said.
“I like you, you’re smart” he responded, and you smiled.
“I am” you reassured him “which means I will not lead you to failure.”
Yoongi stood silent for some time, pondering his decision. He was not used to making deals with strangers, much less entertain such conversations with one but something about you compelled him to break his own rules and your words urged him to agree. You spoke with honesty, something he was not used to in this business. He could see the resolve dripping from where you stood, and it frightened and stimulated him all at the same time.
“So, what do you say?” You raised your eyebrows, becoming anxious with his silence.
“why not” he shrugged, staring into your eyes with a smirk.
He didn't understand what had come over him, what had compelled him to agree so easily. To trust you in the way he had now but he did, and it was done. There was no turning back, he was not the kind of man who turned on his words or decisions. If he was to be your ally, then that's exactly what you would get.
“And to honor the beginning of our alliance, I am going to give you a piece of advice” he hummed, finishing the last of his drink.
“Don't think for a second that I have not been plotting myself” he assured you, stepping closer to where you stood, the small intrusion causing your heart to skip a beat. “You will gain nothing from screaming in anger, ignorant people like the Jeon family will never listen” he whispered.
“I could create chaos if I wanted to, wipe out half the people in this room, and leave the Jeon’s with nothing” he taunted, your eyes roamed his face, the chilled expression he wore demonstrating he meant every word he said. “Not everything deserves a reaction. If you are angry and humiliated let it breed inside of you because when the moment comes when you get to pull the trigger, it is the only thing that you will have, use it wisely.”
His eyes stared deeply into yours, assuring you comprehended what he said, and you did. You had failed at concealing your emotions, you had unraveled under the pressure of your emotions time and time again and to put the cherry on top you had threatened Jungkook in your very home. The only thing that had saved you was his willingness to underestimate you.
“I know how vexating it can be to sit next to the people who have ruined your life, to put up a facade for those here who have trapped you and your family in an unbearable situation but never” his stare was sharp and filled with rage “never let them know your next move.”
He leaned in closer, and you could smell his cologne, the fresh and woody aroma causing you to close your eyes in infatuation. “If you are confident your plan will work, which I'm sure mine will” he emphasized “Then there's no need for you to combust” Yoongi concluded.
He glanced over at your face, the expression of desire that remained there causing another smirk to appear on his lips. He noticed your lack of experience and he was aware that both of you were a means to an end for each other but if you were to be his ally, he needed you to be perfect. there was no room for error, he would turn you into the embodiment of revenge.
“Play pretend for as long as you can” he pulled away, causing you to open your eyes and look into his eyes again. It’s as if you were in a trance and Yoongi was the snake guiding you through it. “If they want you to be a trophy wife then be a damn Oscar.”
“By the way” he added, reaching his hand to move a strand of your hair from your eyes, the action causing chills to rise on your skin. “Your husband is approaching, and he does not look happy” he chuckled lowly as he took a step back, burying his hands in his pockets as he positioned himself back into his cool and poise persona.
You cleared your throat and for a moment you could feel your cheeks heat up. You were sure it was caused by the way he was able to express himself, so confident in contrast to you. It caused something to erupt in your body, a nerving yet exciting feeling and you couldn't get enough.
Never in a million years did you think you would be looking up to a man like Yoongi. There was still so much you didn't know about him but the longer you stood there, the more you understood him. He was willing to enter a room with people he knew loathed him and yet, was able to remain unphased, as if he was untouchable.
You still had so much to learn about this world and if Yoongi was willing to teach you then you were just as willing to learn.
“Wait how can I contact you again?” you asked urgently.
“don’t worry, ill find you” he grinned.
you heard quick and heavy footsteps approaching and your eyes remained locked with Yoongi’s as he gave you a knowing nod. You smirked as you gave use to his advice, the Y/n who would usually react or shift in uneasiness was no longer present. Instead, you remained calm and controlled.
“Hey,” Jungkook spoke as he arrived, wrapping his arm around your waist. You could immediately tell this was not the usual theatrical touch of affection he usually gave when in the public eye. No, this one was different, the way his hand clasped around your waist, tight but not tight enough to hurt you, almost as if he was claiming you.
His eyes pierced into Yoongi, and you couldn't decipher his stare. Was he angry? Jealous?
No, he was threatened.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere” Jungkook huffed, planting a small kiss on the side of your head. You were taken back by the sudden showers of affection; he had demonstrated more warmth towards you tonight than he had the entire year you had been married. He was putting on his best show and it was ridiculous. You wanted to shove him across the room, but you held yourself together, mustering the biggest smile you could fabricate.
Two could play this game.
“Oh, have you?” you asked, your eyes furrowing in confusion. “I've been here all this time, my love” You wanted to choke at the last words that fell from your lips, but you refrained, swallowing harshly.
“I can see that '' Jungkook spoke bitterly, his eyes never leaving Yoongi. Yoongi held Jungkook's stare, a taunting smile playing on his lips. “I was just getting to know Mr. Min here, why on earth have you never introduced us?” you asked.
You took note of Jungkook's discomfort as he took the tone of your voice. It was pitched and excited and he had never heard you sound so gleeful. his hand trembled against the fabric of your dress, and it caused a sense of joy to bubble within your gut. He was fuming and you loved every little second of it.
“Mrs. Y/n is delightful” Yoongi spoke, his eyes meeting yours for a short moment then falling back on Jungkook. “Yes, I'm aware my wife is extraordinary” Jungkook hissed, making his distaste of the interaction known.
“I have some other guests I would like to introduce you to” he informed you, his stare only on you now. You looked up at him, holding onto a wide grin for dear life. Yoongi held back on a chuckle that threatened to rip through his chest as he watched you struggle to be passive, clearing his throat to grab your attention.
“It was a pleasure, Mrs. Y/n” he smiled, a smile you knew held a secret only you two knew. “I hope to see you around more often,” he concluded. Yoongi reached for your hand and held it up to his lips, planting a small kiss on the skin there.
You could feel Jungkook’s glare burn into the both of you and a sudden wave of adrenaline came over you. Following this plan had never brought you such enjoyment, it had always been laborious and exhausting but now, you had found a new sense of pleasure.
Jungkook didn't bother to say any goodbyes, as he ripped you away from the spot in which you stood. His steps were rushed and heavy as he walked away, having you struggle to keep up. “Jungkook, could you please slow down?” You called after him but when he turned you noticed his angered eyes, pure rage pouring from his pores as he looked down at you.
“Why were you speaking to him?” he almost yelled. You had never seen him like this, the man who you knew to be stoic had completely disappeared and in his place was now a man unable to contain his anger. The sight alone caused a thrilling rush within your chest and yes, maybe you were crazy, but you couldn't help but feel accomplished.
“What's wrong?” you asked, innocently Tilting your head in fake confusion. He huffed, his eyes scanning the room before falling back on you. “Do you know who he is?” he asked, his steps coming to a complete stop. His cheeks were flushed, and his breathing had become labored leaving him unable to hide the absolute irritation flowing through his veins.
“How would I know? I barely know anyone in this room” you spoke simply, a small smile hiding behind your puzzled stare. You were in complete awe at his sudden reaction and for a moment, all you desired was for someone to hand you a camera to capture this moment forever.
You never wanted to forget it, the utter frustration that he now carried. It fed into your hunger, and you wanted more.
“Never mind” he sighed “just don't speak to him again” he reached for your hand and held it in his, the skin of his palm red and warm against yours. the contact made you jolt, you weren’t accustomed to being constantly touched by him, it was more than rare, and you wondered why he felt so comfortable doing so.
Sure, the purpose of this evening was essentially to celebrate your one-year anniversary and you had expected the usual touch of affection but the way he was holding you, reaching for you it was not the act you were used to. He led you through the room, almost pulling you as he continued his fast pace.
It was then that you understood that Jungkook had met his match, to him you were just a wailing spoiled brat, someone whom he didn’t think twice about underestimating but Yoongi, Yoongi was different. Jungkook was smart enough to not undervalue his opponent. Yoongi was powerful and influential just like him and that he couldn't ignore.
His touch was an act of declaration that you were his wife.
You knew it was not because he cared or wanted to protect whatever relationship it was you shared, it was entirely for his ego, but you didn’t care. You were fulfilled. you were just a step closer to your freedom and to say you were happy was an understatement. Nothing, not even Jungkook’s childish behavior could take that from you.
“Hey! There you are” the man who you came to know as Taehyung spoke from a small circle which Jungkook led you to. you rolled your eyes at the way he held you as if you were his possession. His hand tightly grasped yours as if you could slip away at any moment, but you didn’t protest, you remained silent and willing even if you wanted to pull away.
If you had learned anything tonight, it was that for your plan to work you needed to be tame. You would bow in obedience even if it made your skin crawl. Forgotten were the days you would unravel in anger and agony. The broken and weak woman who reflected in your mirror had ceased to exist.
Every move would be calculated, and above all else, you would wear the disguise of a loving wife. You needed to be in control, no longer would you beg for consideration or sympathy. You didn’t need those things anymore.
You smiled as you approached Jungkook’s friends, allowing him to stand beside you like the proud husband he pretended to be, his arm wrapping tightly around you once again.
“Hello everyone, I would like you to meet my wife” he announced, a small smile playing on his lips. It almost felt like he was showing off an expensive car or a new Rolex, the way they all stared at you as if you were an object. You offered a bright smile, your cheeks burning from the strain you were causing on them.
“Y/n,” you said, separating from the title of just ‘wife’ and allowing yourself to feel less like an item and more like an actual human being. They all greeted you with a small wave and quick smiles except for Taehyung. His smile was radiant in contrast with the others who surrounded him, he focused his eyes on you almost as if he was drinking you whole.
He appeared to glow amidst the dark and tense environment, his eyes expelling a certain genuineness that you couldn't quite put your finger on. “Kim Taehyung,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He extended his hand which you took in yours, giving it a soft shake.
“It's great finally putting a face to the name” he chuckled which caused you to smile, a real smile. You felt at ease while you stood in front of him like you didn't have to pretend to be anything or anyone under his gaze and you noted how dangerous that was. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only one standing in the room with him.
“It’s a pleasure meeting you Mr. Kim” you replied.
“Oh please, call me Taehyung” he smiled again “Those kinds of formalities make me feel suffocated” You laughed, a real laugh. “Jungkook here had you hidden away” he exclaimed, looking over at his best friend who stood in silence. Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed.
“You weren’t even here for the past year, Tae” Jungkook stated, a tone of annoyance and amusement in his voice. You furrowed your brows for a moment, opting to listen to their banter.
“It wasn’t even that long” Taehyung protested. They both chuckled and you realized it was the first time you had ever heard Jungkook genuinely laugh. He sounded like a kid with no worries, his laughter was carefree and contagious. Not one that taunted you or one that was used to conceal his emotions but a laugh that poured out of him because he truly felt like laughing and for a moment, it made you smile.
“Yeah, you were only supposed to be gone for 3 months” Jungkook exclaimed which only caused Taehyung to laugh harder. “Come on, we all knew I wouldn't leave Paris in 3 months” Paris? For a year? You raised your brows, intrigued by the statement.
“Oh, I love Paris. I've been there a couple of times, was it business or pleasure?” you interrogated, ensuring you appeared interested but not enough to make anyone suspect of you. Taehyung grinned, winking in your direction.
“Maybe a little bit of both” he replied, his answer was vague and left much to the imagination, you could tell he was withholding information underneath his charm. You were more than eager to know what drove him to spend an entire year in Paris. Was it illegal business? Was he trafficking guns or drugs? What role did he play in this business?
You were consumed with curiosity, it was no secret that everyone here was active in the Jeon’s organization and in order for you to facilitate your plan you needed to know what roles they played, how big of an obstacle they would be to you.
“I miss it, I had so much fun while I was there” you encouraged him, begging him to bite into the bait you had set up. “Well, I didn't get to enjoy much of the city this time around, I mostly went to run an errand” he replied. An errand? What kind of errand? You nodded, attempting to piece together the details he shared.
“Should we make our way to our table? The dinner will be starting soon” Jungkook interrupted, bringing you closer to his side. Your eye twitched for a moment, feeling a familiar sense of irritation nestling itself in your gut. Could he let you finish a fucking conversation? You wanted to push him off and ignore his comment but instead, you looked up at him with a smile.
“Could we stay a bit longer?” you asked, unable to conceal some of your frustration within the question. “Yeah, come on man I would love to hear about Y/n’s time in Paris” Taehyung chuckled; you looked back at him.
“As I would yours” you responded, if only he knew.
“Uh I guess yeah” Jungkook responded, doubt in his tone but as you looked back to Taehyung to continue your investigation you heard the loud sound of glass clinging. Your eyes were adverted to the front of the room where Jungkook’s father stood, in his hand a butter knife and wine glass.
“Welcome everyone, thank you for joining us” he spoke, and his voice caused goosebumps to rise from your skin. You hated everything about the man. His voice and his face, his arrogance and his lack of emotions. You weren't surprised Jungkook had turned out the way he did. Looking at his father was as if you were staring into the eyes of the devil himself.
“I would like to ask for you to take your seats, as dinner will be starting soon” he instructed, quickly everyone followed his command, dispersing to separate areas in the room and taking their seats in their designated tables. you were stunned at the way he had controlled the room, everyone acquiescent to his instructions. No one who was presently here would ever question the man and it made you shudder.
Taehyung sighed in disappointment and pressed his lips together “well, it seems we will have to hold this conversation at a later moment.” You hummed in agreement and felt Jungkook remove his arm from your waist and take your hand in his. “It seems so” you spoke and even if you had tried, you couldn't remove the dismay that your voice carried.
Both you and Jungkook said your goodbyes and he led you towards the table that sat in the middle of the room. It was much larger and decorated then the rest, it was visible this table had received the most attention which meant it was specially set up for the Jeon’s. He pulled out your chair whilst you stood beside him, but your eyes remained around the room, trying to find Ha-yoon.
“Take a seat” he whispered into your ear. You snapped your neck to look at him, stunned at how close he had gotten, you cleared your throat and did as told, slipping into the chair. He stood silent for a moment, noticing how tractable you had become. he blinked in suspicion, this wasn’t you. you were impulsive and defiant, and the shift concerned him. He shook the thought away, maybe you were just putting on your best behavior for tonight. Right?
He took the seat besides you and quickly reached for the champagne glass that waited for him, filled to the top. He looked back to you a second time and noted how confident you appeared in your seat, he knew you hated these kinds of events but tonight, you appeared to be enjoying every bit of it. He looked away quickly, taking a drink from the glass whilst his mind raced with questions.
you scanned the room, trying to find Ha-yoon amongst the unfamiliar faces in the room. You had left her to fend for herself and you felt immense guilt. You had been too consumed with your own desire to even realize that you had left her alone in a room full of criminals. Your eyes landed onto the bar and finally found her face, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when you confirmed she was okay. She sat with a drink in her hand, her head thrown back as she laughed with one of the waiters. At least, she was having fun. You made a mental note to apologize later for your carelessness.
“Would you look at the happy couple” you withdrew your attention from Ha-yoon and focused on the man and woman who approached the table. Jungkook stood up and placed down his glass of champagne before bowing in front of his parents. you abstained from rolling your eyes and instead, stood up as well. You mimicked Jungkook’s actions and took an unwilling bow. The man who now stood in front of you didn’t deserve your respect but if you were to pretend to be amicable then unfortunately it was what you needed to do.
Jungkook’s father reached forward and patted his son on the back with a small chuckle. “What an evening this has been” he commented which gained him a smile from Jungkook. You knew your husband was feeling elated from the rather dull action. As it was his life’s purpose to make his father proud and he would’ve stopped at nothing to make it happen. He followed every command his father gave, incapable of ever defying him.
“It has been, Y/n and I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for us” Jungkook stated, and you struggled to keep the odium from your eyes as you looked towards him. You weren’t thankful, in all honesty you thought all of this was just a circus act. You would’ve preferred to be set on fire in the middle of a desert than to be here Yet, instead of contradicting Jungkook you nodded and smiled pleasantly.
“Yes, thank you Mr. Jeon everything is so beautiful.”
“It was nothing, it’s the least I could do” he spoke confidently.
The least he could do?
You had a long list of things he should’ve done, perhaps like not giving your father money to launder.
You hummed and took your seat, unable to keep up the obsequious act any longer. A thank you from your lips was all that he would get and even that you considered to be extreme. You watched as they took their seats next to Jungkook.
You dazed off as you heard the two men converse next to you, not bothering to listen in to anything that was being said. You knew they wouldn’t hold any important conversations in this room, Jungkook’s father loved his discretion and if he were to talk about his business it wouldn’t be in a place just anyone could hear.
How you would adore being a fly on the wall in his office, though.
“Hello everyone” you recognized the soft voice that floated in the air, it was the same voice that would calm you down from a tantrum, the same voice that sang to you at night when you were a child. a tightness soon formed in your heart as anxiety gripped you from all sides. Your eyes lifted from the piece of paper before you and in front of you stood your parents. You knew they would be in attendance, but seeing them now, within reach caused a wave of emotions to come crashing inside of you.
They looked elegant, your father wearing a black suit and your mother a beautiful red gown, you noted how content they appeared. Of course, how could they not as they took their seats besides you, unaware of their daughters' sacrifice. You felt yourself shrink in your seat and your heart began to race in your chest. You wanted to run, to hold onto the little scraps of self-control you had left but you remained seated.
You couldn’t allow them to have this much affect on you, you couldn’t allow them to affect you at all.
“Y/n” your father spoke, a small smile laying on his face and for a moment, you wanted to reach forward to embrace him. to tell him how much you had missed him, to cry on his shoulder like you used to. It had been so long since you had seen them, and you had wanted it to remain this way, only then could you avoid feeling the way you did now. Cutting off contact was the only method you had to keep the last bit of your sanity, knowing that they had sold you off into a despicable family had put a strain in your relationship.
Even if they were oblivious to the truth.
“Father” you responded, lowering your gaze when you felt his eyes on you. You needed to hold your composure even if deep inside the only thing you wanted to be was his little girl again, even if all you wanted was for him to protect you. “Mother” you then said, you looked up into her eyes and she held your gaze.
Inside you were screaming for help, pleading for them to come save you.
“You look beautiful” she said, and you could hear the way she choked on the words, tears beginning to form within the eyes that were similar to yours. “As do you” you responded formally, holding back on the whimper that sat on your tongue.
The night didn't feel as victorious anymore, instead you were now consumed by melancholy. You had never been able to understand what had led to this, you were a good daughter. The father that you knew would’ve never done this to you and the mother that nurtured you for so long would’ve never allowed it. nothing was more painful than grasping onto the version of who they used to be.
Jungkook stared at you, hoping that for a moment you would crack. He could see the pain through your eyes, noticed your hands trembling underneath the table. Yet, to his disdain you kept your cool demeanor all while constraining your tears back.
“I'm glad that we can come together like this, we should do this more often,” Jungkook's mother said which caused everyone to nod in agreement, everyone except for you of course. If it was up to you, you would never share the same room with these people again.
It was suffocating.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how is marriage?” she added, and you knew the question was directed towards you and Jungkook. You fidgeted uncomfortably in your seat, eyes scanning the table for a moment. It was a cruel question, she couldn’t have been that oblivious to the situation, right? You would’ve been open to talk about the way your marriage had broken you, the way it had you feeling like you were at the edge of a precipice, but you knew it wasn’t the answer that she wanted. Before you could form a coherent answer, you were stopped by the sound of Jungkook’s voice.
“It’s been great” he reached for your hand that laid on your lap under the table and covered it in his. Your eyes remained on your hands interlinked for a moment, unable to process what was happening. “I’ve never felt such harmony and happiness and it’s all thanks to my wife” he lied, looking over at you. You scoffed and chuckled as everyone smiled approvingly. Gleaming at the fraudulent marriage Jungkook spoke of.
You didn't dare look at him, knowing that once you looked into his eyes you would be able to notice the way he feigned love and admiration. Did he ever get tired? Of pretending?
“Awe don't be shy Y/n” his mother said, taking your silence for diffidence. In reality you just couldn’t sustain such a lie, you weren’t good at it, at least not as good as Jungkook. Instead, you offered her a tight-lipped smile and removed your hand from Jungkook’s grasp, pretending to hold the menu with it.
Jungkook’s father cleared his throat and held up his glass of champagne “I would like to make a toast to the union we have made, may we continue to prosper as a family” you could tell his words were a double-sided blade, it let you know that your lack of enthusiasm towards the topic hadn’t gone unnoticed and it made your skin crawl. You reached for your own glass and raised it as well, looking over at him and holding his gaze.
While they toasted to the union of the family, you toasted for the destruction of it.
You sipped on the champagne, never breaking eye contact with the man who sat beside Jungkook, whilst his eyes held contempt, yours held anger and you both battled for dominance. Once the cool liquid passed your throat, you sighed in pleasure, a grin appearing upon your face.
You reminded yourself of Yoongi’s words and nodded your head towards him respectfully, putting your champagne glass down. “May we continue to prosper, Mr. Jeon” you bit, and you noticed the way his smile fell. It appeared he was prepared to speak but once his lips parted and he began to form words, the waiters arrived, placing various assortments of food on the table.
“Oh, this all looks magnificent!” your mother cheered, her voice causing you to withdraw your attention from Jungkook's father. You looked down at the delicious meals that had been prepared but you weren’t eager to break bread with anyone sitting at this table. Instead, you gulped down the rest of the champagne in your glass and signaled one of the waiters to bring you another.
“So…” your mother began with a small smile. “When are the grandbabies coming?” you swallowed harshly. The question was ridiculous. You knew that being a mother was not in the books for you, partly because you had to at least have sex to have a conceive a child and then because you wouldn’t dare bring a life into this mess.
“Well uhm” Jungkook attempted to answer but the question appeared to be too much for him to handle. “We aren’t ready yet” you announced which caused the table to silence. You could see the disappointment fall upon the faces of both you and Jungkook’s parents at the answer.
“You have been married for a year; I think it’s the perfect time for you to give us a grandchild” Jungkook’s mother suggested. You picked up on the judgmental tone in which she spoke, her eyes glaring into you. Of course, you would be the one to blame for not providing an heir to solidify the unification of both families because who else was to blame, your husband? No, men weren’t blamed for these things.
“I think she means we are busy, mom” Jungkook clarified, glancing over at you for a moment.
“I mean I understand you are running a business Jungkook, but your wife barely does anything besides go shopping and mingle with her friends during brunch!” The statement left you breathless. How fucking dare she? Everything you did was controlled by them, you wouldn’t be capable of doing anything if it wasn’t up to their standard, to their approval. You were blinded by the outrage ready to spill past your lips, snapping your eyes in her direction.
“don’t be so harsh on her” your mother spoke “though my daughter does not have a business to run she has single handedly gained your family popularity amongst all the elite inner circles, she’s a respected socialite.”
“That is true my dear, Y/n here has gained us popularity which will come in handy to us soon” Jungkook’s father spoke, grinning. You narrowed your eyes in his direction now, a puzzled expression on your face. How would you be of any help to him? if he thought for a second that you would partake in any of his illicit businesses then he was mistaken. Your father might have been an easy target, but you were far less gullible. You knew the kind of people they were, how they delt with their business and it was pure evil.
“How so?” Your father spoke, you took in the eagerness in his question, his willingness to collaborate with Mr. Jeon and you couldn’t avoid the distaste in your mouth. Regardless, you wanted to know the answer too. How would Mr. Jeon use you now, what was it that he needed from a housewife with influence.
“I wanted to hold back on sharing this but since we are here together now it will be far easier to announce the news” he spoke, looking over at Jungkook. “I plan to temporarily resign from my position as chairman of the Jeon company and allow passage for my son to take my place for the time being” you blinked quickly, taken back by his words. Something was off and you knew it and the outer shock written all over Jungkook’s face only further confirmed it.
“What do you mean dad?” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows while his father laughed, patting his son on the back. “I am sure you will do great managing the business whilst I’m gone” Jungkook nodded but you could see the apprehension loom over his head.
“Well, what will you be doing instead?” your mother asked this time “are you sick?” Jungkook’s father chuckled loudly, throwing his head back.
“God no” he answered “I’m in great shape which is why I’ve made this decision” he took a deep breath and sighed and this time his eyes fell on you.
“I will be announcing my campaign as governor soon and Y/n here could assist me with her influence, once I’m running it will be hard for me not to win when I have the popular vote” he sneered. You sat completely still, your mind racing with questions. Why would he want to run for governor? He had money, he had power, he ran a multi-billionaire illegal business and now all of a sudden, he wanted to get into politics. Why?
“Do I have your support, Y/n?” he asked and now all eyes were on you. you blinked trying to gather your thoughts. Your eyes searched the room for someone who would know exactly what to do with the predicament you were now facing but you were met with the same wave of unfamiliar faces.
You were sure you wouldn’t help this man in a million years, whatever it was that he was planning you were sure it wasn’t with the best of intentions, and you wanted nothing to do with it. You thought for a moment of how this would help you, but you couldn’t see anything beneficial about it, it was just the Jeon family finding new ways to trap you in their web. Once you found Yoongi, you realized his stare was already on you. You took a deep breath, and it only took him a moment to notice your panicked stare.
What would Yoongi do in this situation? What decision would he make?
Yoongi gave you a slight nod almost as if he knew what you were asking, you furrowed your brows in confusion and looked away, glancing back at Mr. Jeon who sat expectantly for your answer.
‘Never let them know your next move.’
Yoongi’s voice replayed in your mind as you pondered over your answer. you cleared your throat and forced a smile.
“Well of course Mr. Jeon, you have my full support.”
“attagirl” he cheered causing everyone sitting at the table to smile and cheer along with him.
“After my campaign is over, you can have all the babies you want!” he exclaimed like he was granting you permission and your father clapped in excitement. “It will be a fruitful year for sure” your father assured whilst everyone raised their glasses in celebration.
You remained still for a moment and then lifted your own glass.
you were going to ensure he never got what he wanted again, you would take everything away from both him and his son all while smiling sweetly in their face.
No more wins and no more success, and no goddamn grandkids.
-
𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝! 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮!
𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞
𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤/𝐝𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.
@ane102,@thisartemisnevermisses,@jamlessstars,@cookysstuff,@gyeomibearr,@multiasf ,@lydinews,@vminkookgf,@chl0buggy, @peterstarkchrishiddleston , @koostrawberry , @jcrl99 , @coree730 , @melodiesforari , @taemond-in-the-ruff , @whoa-jo @jksusawife , @hoseoksluv89 , @piecesofapril11 , @coralmusicblaze , @junecat18 , @amiradumas , @mageprincess7 , @heartjiminie , @parkinglot-nights , @douknowbts , @str4gguk , @sarzkh31, @jjk970971
#bts x reader#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook au#jeon jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook series#bts#bts jungkook#yoongi x reader#yoongi#yoongi au#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#jungkook yandere#yandere
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Chapter 4
Here it is! I was nervous to put this out here so I hope it lives up. Yoongi realizes some things in this one but it might be a little too late. Chapter 5 should be out within a few days!
Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU
Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.
Word Count: 3,404
Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing
Waking up with a long stretch you were more than surprised to wake up in your hotel bed. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep on the beach but you have no memory at all of walking back to the room. You figured that hotel security probably found you and thought you were just a drunk so they brought you back to the room after finding your room key on you.
Looking over to the empty space next to you memories from the night before came flooding back to you. The delicious dinner you had and the joyous company of the waiter Hoseok. The sight of Yoongi and the brunette that was all over him. How he lied and called you his sister instead of his wife. How you felt lonely and betrayed and you just wanted to wish everything of the past couple months away.
Suddenly as if your brain finally caught up you realized you were sleeping in the same bed that Yoongi and that woman most likely hooked up in and that caused your skin to crawl. You jumped out of bed like something bit you tripping over your suitcase in the process and landing on the ground with a loud thud. You’d never been so happy for a vacation to end before. Getting in the shower you scrubbed your skin so hard you’re pretty sure you did damage but you wanted to scrub until you no longer felt dirty. After packing up your few belongings you walked out to the living room of your suite. Yoongi was already sitting at the dining table. You scanned his body for any new marks but nothing was visible even with the v neck tshirt he was wearing that caused you to internally scold yourself for staring at him a little too long. When he finally noticed you standing there he pointed to the seat across from him,
“It’s a chai tea. Jimin said you don’t really like coffee so I didn’t know what else to get.“
Sitting down at the table you noticed that the selection of food was all of your favorites. Chocolate chip muffins, a bacon croissant sandwich, crispy potato hash, strawberries, pineapple, a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. Yoongi cleared his throat, “Jimin also told me some of your favorite foods so I had them bring what they could.” Unable to hide the shy smile nodded before taking a bite.
“Umm do you know when or how I got back to the room last night? I don’t remember walking back so I wanted to go thank whomever brought me here?”, you awkwardly chuckled trying to break the silence but also piece together last night. He took another sip of his coffee, “Yeah actually I carried you back to the room and put you in the bed.” His statement caused you to choke on the strawberry you had just popped in your mouth, “I’m sorry you did what?”
He repeated, “I saw you laying on the beach so I went down and brought you back and put you in the bed.” You looked at him with wide eyes, words escaping you. You ate another strawberry trying to stuff your mouth before saying something you’d regret.
“Why is your skin so red? It looks like you washed yourself with sandpaper?”, he asked looking you over.
“Oh when I woke up in the bed I felt kind of gross, you know since you hooked up with some woman in there, and I’m sure the sheets weren’t changed afterwards. Guess I got a little carried away.”
Yoongi nodded before taking another sip of coffee, “I didn’t hook up with her.”
You laughed, “Come on Yoongi. I saw the two of you. If you didn’t hook up then what did you do with her in here? I know you guys didn’t play a game unless it included clothes coming off.”
“I told her to leave.”
“What?”
“I told her to leave.”
“I know I heard you the first time but why?”
He returned back to his bagel without a word and you rolled your eyes, “Okay fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t really care at this point anyways.”
Yoongi let out a long deep sigh, “After a while I realized that you didn’t come in the room with us. I didn’t know where you’d be able to go at that time of the night and I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be wandering around by yourself so I told the woman that we should continue somewhere else and that I’d book us another room so you could come back to the room. So when I went to grab my wallet on the table next to the balcony I saw you laying out on the beach. It looked like you were sleeping and I didn’t want you to stay out there like that because it was late and it’s dangerous and you might get eaten by a crab or something so I told her that we were done and that she needed to leave. I walked down to the beach to bring you back. I was gonna wake you up but you looked really comfy so I just carried you here and put you in the bed and went to sleep myself.”
You were dumbfounded at his story. Your face was full of disbelief. Taking a bite of your muffin you nodded, “Oh well uh thank you for bringing me back.”
He nodded.
“Also if there was a crab out there big enough to eat me I think we’d have some major problems.”
He rolled his eyes before he walked off to the bathroom trying to hide the blush creeping down his neck. You continued to eat but confusion plagued your mind. You just can’t figure him out. One minute he’s hooking up with some random woman on your honeymoon and the next he’s going out of his way for you and trying to be kind, almost seeming kind of protective. You really weren’t sure what to make of him but you wished he would just make up his mind because you’re starting to get whiplash from the back and forth.
The flight back home was uneventful. The two of you sat in comfortable silence other than the occasional statement. Yoongi sipped on a whiskey and you even decided to get wild and sip on some champagne.
The car pulled up to an extravagant looking building confusing you as to where you were and then it hit you. You had to move into Yoongi’s place and of course he lived in the most luxurious building in the whole country. You thought spending a week in the same hotel room was awkward so you had no clue how living together was going to go but part of you hoped that maybe the two of you can finally work on some things in your relationship.
Once in Yoongi’s penthouse he gave you a very brief tour. The home was incredible. Jimins apartment was nice but didn’t compare to the penthouse. Floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the city. All the furniture appears to be high end and high quality. You’re pretty sure your entire apartment back home could’ve fit in the kitchen alone.
Thankfully Jimin was able help you coordinate with the movers to have your stuff shipped over. You didn’t have to bring much since Yoongi already had a fully furnished home. You just brought some clothes and a few sentimental items.
“My office is the third door on the right. If I work from home I’ll be in there but please keep interruptions to a minimum and only if necessary. My bedroom is the second door on the left. Don’t go in there. Your room is right here.”, he said opening the door. You were thoroughly confused. “Wait we have separate bedrooms?” Yoongi sighed irritation evident again, “I have the space so I figured why should we have to share a room. This way we can stay out of each others way.”
When you saw his eyebrow move up you knew what he meant by that. You sat on the edge of the bed staring down at the floor. Sure it was a nice room and bigger than any room you’d ever had before with it even having a private bathroom. But that didn’t stop the loneliness and hurt that you felt. You were more like a roommate or even worse, a nuisance that that he just wanted to shove away so he didn’t have to look at you.
That thought made you chuckle though, “Good thing you don’t have any staircases in this place or I’d be stuck sleeping under there I guess.”
Yoongi looked at you with eyebrows furrowed.
“What you’ve never seen Harry Potter before?”
“Do I seem like the kind of guy that watches Harry Potter?”
“I guess not but you sure have a lot in common with a certain he who shall not be named.”
“What are talking about?”
“Nothing never mind.”
Yoongi noticed your change in demeanor. Stuffing this hands into his pockets he spoke, “You’re welcome to paint or decorate the room however you want.” You met him with continued silence. He continued, “I have to go into the office to catch up on things. I ordered some groceries to be delivered later. Jimin told me about you liking to have a mug of warm milk before bed and I was out so that’ll be here later along with some other things for you.” You nodded in acknowledgment whispering a thank you before he turned and shut the door behind him.
Due to your small amount of belongings you were unpacked in no time. Luckily you just put your last piece of clothing away when the doorbell rang signaling the grocery order arrived. Taking the bags from the delivery driver and thanking him profusely you set to work putting everything away while also familiarizing yourself with the kitchen. As you pulled out the groceries you chuckled a little more each time. There was the milk just like Yoongi had promised. There was also a large package of chocolate chip muffins, multiple containers of strawberries, your favorite ramen, some cookies, a box of popcorn, and cookie dough ice cream. All of your favorites. You made a mental note to thank Jimin and maybe also send a thank you to Yoongi depending on how he was acting later.
Over the next few weeks things between Yoongi and yourself didn’t improve much. The two of you barely spoke other than the occasional question or statement and that was if you even saw each other at all. You spent most of your time in your bedroom while he claimed to be at the office or other work functions. The one time you did venture out and sat in the living room your movie was interrupted when Yoongi came strolling in with a woman in each arm heading towards his bedroom after giving you a quick nod like you were just one of his friends who he was trying to brag to about his “score”. Suddenly not feeling so well you turned off the tv and got in bed. It didn’t take long to hear moans and a headboard banging against the wall from down the hallway so you grabbed your headphones hoping to block out the sound and fall asleep as quickly as you could.
The next morning Yoongi and his new friends were long gone by the time you got up. You set out on checking off some things on your to do list that you created. One thing you wanted to work on was learning Korean. You knew a few phrases thanks to Jimin but now that you were living in Korea you thought it would be a good idea to get to know the language in a proficient way so you started calling around to different companies trying to find someone to give you lessons.
That’s how a few weeks later you were sitting at your kitchen table with the teacher the company you chose had sent you. Kim Namjoon was a handsome man no doubt about it. He was tall with broad shoulders. The cutest dimples you’d ever seen. His glasses framed his face perfectly and they looked great with his caramel colored hair. His cologne the complete opposite of Yoongi’s cinnamon and vanilla scent. Namjoon smelled light and citrusy. It was clean and refreshing and somehow managed to take the stress away from you. The way he spoke was so elegant. It was nice being able to have a full conversation with someone. You loved Jimin but you guys mostly just goofed off and went on rants to each other and trying to have a conversation with Yoongi was like pulling teeth. You hadn’t realized just how lonely you were before Namjoon came into your life. This was only your fifth session and you found yourself really excited that you were getting to spend some time with him again.
“I don’t know Y/N. How will baking cookies help you learn a language?”, he sighed trying mask his playfulness. You giggled, “Well I could learn all the names for the ingredients and I can try to give YOU the instructions in Korean while you make the cookies.” He sat there and pondered before you continued, “Come on Joonie. Back home I’m famous for my double chocolate chip cookies and I know you can’t say no to chocolate.” Finally he ran a hand through his hair, “Alright but you have to tell me each step in Korean.” Excitedly you jumped up running around to collect the ingredients.
Watching Namjoon try to make cookies was one of the funniest things you’ve ever witnessed. He told you he had no business being in the kitchen but you didn’t think it was this bad. He was currently trying to mix in the flour to the chocolate batter and you couldn’t stop laughing as you watched half the flour fall onto the counter which covered him in a puff of white smoke.
“Here Namjoon let me help you.”, you said placing your hand on his much larger one so you could guide his movements to slowly mix in the flour. You looked up to see him smiling down at you dimples on full display. His lips looked soft and warm. The thought of kissing him definitely crossed your mind. Yoongi hadn’t kissed you since your wedding day and the most physical he’s got with you was carrying you to the room from the beach and to be honest you wouldn’t let him touch you anyways without seeing some test results first to make sure he didn’t pick up anything along the way. The ring on your finger caught your eye before you could act on your thoughts. Yoongi may be an insufferable adulterer but that didn’t mean you had to be one too. Two wrongs don’t make a right in your book but damn if Namjoon wasn’t making you think about doing all the wrongs regardless of the rights.
You were so focused on trying to explain to Namjoon how to add the chocolate chips in Korean that neither of you noticed Yoongi walk in. He watched you gently grasp Namjoon’s hand while smiling up at him. You looked so cute in your daisy printed apron. Namjoon said something that made you burst into a fit of laughter. Yoongi felt a pain in his chest. He had never heard you laugh like that before. You looked so happy with Namjoon. He knew that was all his fault so he didn’t understand where this jealous feeling was coming from and why his brain and heart were betraying him.
He watched you reach up to wipe away some of the chocolate that had gotten onto Namjoon’s cheek. The two of you definitely sharing a moment and Yoongi felt his heart rate increase. He quickly pushed that feeling aside as he had no right. He had slept with multiple women since you got married and he was the one that told you that you were welcome to see other people so if you took Namjoon to your bedroom right now he had nothing to say.
He thought back to that night he carried you back from the beach. You looked so adorable with your lips slightly parted, your skin a beautiful hue of pink thanks to the sun, the way you wrapped your arms around his neck nuzzling your face into his shoulder. At that moment on the beach he realized how harsh he had been and that you didn’t deserve any of it. It’s not your fault that at 19 years old another woman ripped his heart out and stomped on it and then lit it on fire and he decided he’d never allow himself to go through that ever again instead choosing to be the breaker of hearts. The night after he carried you to the hotel while laying in the bed next to you he made a decision that he’d change if not for him then at least for you. Obviously, he failed once he returned to Seoul and he was introduced to the two female interns that he brought back home while you sat innocently watching a movie waiting for him. He knew he was a coward. He was too scared of getting his heart broken again that he decided to continuously break yours and now it looks like you found someone to help mend it and who was he to take that away from you. Deciding he saw enough he rushed off to his bedroom before you could find him standing there.
Once the cookies were baked and cooled you packaged most of them up before handing the box to Namjoon.
“Here take these. There’s no way I’m going to eat them all.”
He smiled but shook his head, “What about Yoongi? I’m sure he’d love to have some of these. I don’t want to take them all.”
You chuckled, “Yoongi never eats anything I cook. He’s probably worried I’ll try and poison him or something so I could get out of this marriage.”
Namjoon laughed at your joke and then confirmed again he was okay to take all the cookies before thanking you and heading out the door. You did a quick clean up of the kitchen before heating up a mug of warm milk and grabbing the two cookies you had saved and headed off to your room for the evening after shutting off the light.
Later that night you woke up hearing a loud bang come from the kitchen. It sounded just like a cabinet closing so you assumed it was Yoongi making himself something to eat. Not being concerned you turned over and went right back to sleep.
Yoongi however, had checked every cabinet and drawer looking for the cookies you made. He always snuck little tastes of your food in the middle of the night when you weren’t there even though you always offered him food each time. Part of him being too stubborn and not wanting to give you the satisfaction of eating the food you cooked and another part of him just felt like he didn’t deserve your food and was too embarrassed to eat it in front of you. He had heard all about your famous cookies from Jimin and he was really looking forward to trying one when he saw you and Namjoon baking them. Giving up he turned to shut off the light and that’s when a little baggy on the counter caught his eye. Inside a perfect looking double chocolate chip cookie with a stick note attached to the bag saying ‘Yoongi’. He took one bite and was in heaven. He thought back to you and Namjoon looking so happy together. Like a real couple. How you smiled and gently touched him. How Namjoon made you laugh. Yoongi finished off the cookie but he was no longer enthralled by the chocolate goodness. Suddenly the cookie tasted like a mix of heaven with a pinch of jealousy and a dash of regret.
#bts#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x reader#yoongi angst#min yoongi#bts fanfic#yoongi fic#bts yoongi#yoongi x y/n#yoongi#arranged marriage au#ceo au#yoongi au#cinnamon&vanilla#namjoon#bts fic#bts x reader
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swing life away | min yoongi
pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader
synopsis: it's your first anniversary as a married couple but not only did you forget today's special occasion, you also didn't prepare a self-made gift for your husband -- except for the bundle of joy in your womb.
rating: 18+
word count: 5.2k
tags/content warning: married au, pregnancy, slight angst, miscommunication, mentions of infidelity (no one's cheating), mentions of food and being vegan (no one's vegan), usage of babe/baby as endearment, semi-public sex, SMUT in the forms of oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this unless you want kids or std), slight spanking, yoongi being a carpenter/loving husband/dumpling/etc.
this fic is inspired by the song "swing life away" by rise against and yoongi's woodcarving vlog :] enjoy!
Min Yoongi was many things.
He’s a skilled carpenter with his own woodshop business by day, and a rising songwriter/record producer by night. He’s a confident all-star basketball player back in his high school days and can still shoot perfectly whenever he plays with some of your shared friends in the backyard these days. He’s a great cook too, always indulging your cravings.
Min Yoongi was many things but most importantly, he’s your husband.
And a very observant one.
It’s been more than a month when he first noticed it. He wasn’t exactly sure what was “it,” but he knew it wasn’t good. He could tell there was something bothering in your mind one night you went home from work and claimed it’s nothing instead of ranting to him like the usual. Just a bad day at work.
A week after that was when you started to stay long hours at work, looking more pale and exhausted when you get home. It baffled Yoongi why you would spend more hours there if it’s stressing you and you’ve never actually worked overtime, but he knew he’s not one to talk about spending more time at work when he has two jobs and does one of those said jobs at home, so he shut his mouth. He didn’t say anything.
Not when you changed your perfume from an intoxicating fruity scent to a soft floral one. Not when he saw a receipt of you having your car interior cleaned and also changed the smell of it. Not when you didn’t want to have sex anymore, always pushing his hands away when they start to wander down there.
A lot of new small things bothered him, especially the last one but what made him almost lose it was when you had mistaken his dish, the one you claimed to be your favorite, for a different one.
x◇x◇x
“Do you like it?��
You nodded, despite still blowing the steam off of your spoon. When you finally tasted it though, he could tell on the look on your face that there’s something missing on his dish. “What is it? Did I not put enough fish sauce or tomato sauce?”
“You put fish sauce in this?” You asked, smiling adorably at your husband and reached across the table to hold his hand in assurance. “It tastes fine, babe, but there’s no need for fish sauce in this. You could’ve added more liver spread and cheese though. You know I love a lot of cheese in this.”
Yoongi closed his eyes for a moment to breathe. He understood the cheese part, you always add cheese to a lot of dishes that doesn’t even need cheese. “Y/N, I didn’t put liver spread because that dish doesn’t require liver spread. It needed fish sauce.”
“What are you talking about? Caldereta is all about the tender beef, tomato sauce, liver spread, and cheese!”
“That's afritada, Y/N. You’re favorite dish back home is afritada.”
Yoongi blinked and composed himself, trying not to look so wounded. He’s so damn sure you’re favorite was afritada, you’ve talked about it a lot. Hell, he’d already cooked it a couple of times before. He had the recipe that he searched online bookmarked on his browser, and he even went to the lengths of jotting them down on his journal just in case the link is taken down.
“Afritada… you mean this is chicken?” You scooped for some meat parts from the reddish soup dish, and there it was, your recent enemy: chicken. “I can’t eat chicken right now, Yoongi, I'm sorry.” You sat straight up, covering your mouth and nose with your hand.
“Of course, it’s chicken. It’s always been chicken, Y/N. It’s a chicken dish, that’s why you love it so much. Or loved, apparently, judging by your actions tonight.”
“I'm sorry,” your voice came out muffled as your hand was still covering your mouth.
“When did you start hating chicken?” he asked as he stood up to take your plate away and check the pantry to prepare something else for you.
“Um, my coworker, Seokhoon, he’s practicing to be a vegan lately so we thought we’d support him by also not eating meat…”
Yoongi’s ears perked up, hearing how your answer sounded uncertain and more like a question, so he pressed more, looking over his shoulder at you. “You were more than ready and excited to eat beef and cheese earlier but you wouldn’t eat chicken right now?”
You stared dumbfoundingly at him before shrugging. “I’m trying with small things like egg and chicken.”
“I made you an omelet for breakfast earlier.” He pointed out, holding your gaze.
“I… just started… to try being vegan earlier at lunch. And also meat are becoming pricey these days, our salary might not be enough. Sooner or later, we’re gonna have to cut back on our expenses. What would you rather give up—chicken or beef?”
Of course, Yoongi would rather eat tofu and bean sprouts for the rest of his life if it meant you get to eat properly and satisfy your cravings. But he didn’t bother to reply that as he cooked you a different dish that night. Fuck Seokhoon for influencing you to be vegan. Fuck the government for the rising prices and not handling the economy better.
x◇x◇x
Ever since that dinner night, Yoongi began to question your marriage. He wanted to talk to you because he didn’t know what to make of your actions anymore, but everytime you two were in the room together, he could you tell you were uncomfortable and couldn’t wait to get out of the situation. Besides, he’s afraid to ask because he knows he’s not prepared for any possible answers you'll give him.
You cheated? Yoongi knew it’s impossible. It had to be because he wouldn’t know what to do with that with that revelation. That would honestly break him.
You lost your job and was just actually driving around town to look for a new one and pass the time? It sounded stupid but not impossible. He would be disappointed and wish that you had told him sooner to prepare and possibly take on a third job.
You’re pregnant? He supposed this is a realistic scenario. You two had talked about this sincerely before getting married, of course, both wanting two kids. He just feels like it’s still early for babies and you two haven’t done all your goals as a married couple before becoming parents.
So he told himself to wait, that you would open up to him when you’re finally ready to unburden your problems. He’s a patient man after all.
But his patience seemed to be running thin today on the morning of your anniversary when he rolled over to your side as he woke up to cuddle you closer and hopefully start the day buried inside you.
He knew you’re awake, even with your eyes closed. You've been waking up earlier than him lately, one of your many changing habits. He took your hand that was hugging your stomach and pressed a soft kiss on your fingers, on your palm, on your wrist, trailing them across your arm up to your shoulder.
“Y/N,” he whispered your name, wishing for you to open your eyes when he nipped at your jaw. He called your name once again as his lips were ghosting over yours. Your eyelashes fluttered open just enough to look at him and when he finally saw your eyes, he leaned down to kiss you deeply.
You freed your hand from his to curl your fingers up into his long hair, urging him closer while the other slid up beneath his shirt, feeling the heat of his body that you’ve been missing for weeks now. You pulled your knees up as Yoongi settled himself in between your legs, grinding his hard cock against your core.
But just as his own hand started to drift down on your hips, you slowed down, giving his lips one last kiss before pressing your forehead to his. You both stayed there without any movements at all, just gasping for air and holding each other’s skin and flesh tightly every now and then.
When it sounded like you were about to apologize, he pressed a kiss on your forehead and whispered, “Happy anniversary, baby,” before bolting right out of the bed, before you could even say it back to him.
x◇x◇x
Despite your husband having his own woodshop and fulfilling his dreams in the music industry, you didn’t let go of your job when you and Yoongi got married.
You were on your way back to your desk from your third visit to the bathroom that morning when you saw the delivery man on the front door of the store carrying a gigantic bouquet of flowers he almost disappeared behind it.
“Min Y/N?” he asked, looking around the store.
Jia turned to the direction of the bathroom and pointed at you when she saw you. You stayed your feet at your place. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. The flowers looked beautiful—a bouquet of pale and dark red carnations, along with sunflowers, wrapped meticulously in craft paper and tied with a golden ribbon—but there’s a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s making it hard for you to appreciate this.
“This is for you!” The delivery man presented the bouquet to you with a proud smile. When you didn’t move, he gingerly took your arms to place the flowers in them and then took off.
A minute must have passed by yet none of you and your colleagues moved or talked. It wasn’t until a client came in and needed assistance. Jia wrapped her arm around you and walked you back to your desk. As you sat down, you caught sight of the red card sticking out of the flowers. HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY, BABY.
Reading Yoongi's handwritten note, you recognized that bad feeling again that you knew all too well lately. Shame and guilt. You had to close your eyes and practice your breathing exercises before those bad feelings in your stomach turn into a pile of chunky vomit across the floor.
Jia, oblivious to your anxiety, swooned over the flowers. “Happy anniversary, Y/N!”
It’s the second greeting you’ve received today and you couldn’t help but wince when you remember how you froze when Yoongi greeted you.
You didn’t know how this special event slipped up your mind when staring at your calendar was all you’ve been doing lately. You were aware that your own anniversary was near and you even had a lot of ideas for DIY gifts to give to your husband.
You tried to make it up to Yoongi by going after him and showering together to have some hot shower sex even though the thought of sex was making you nervous lately. Yoongi turned down the offer though, saying you’re both gonna be late for work, which was a very pathetic excuse considering he’s his own boss and your own work doesn’t start in a couple of hours. So you showered together in silence.
Just as you’re about to calm down, you’re eyes widened in panic because not only you forgot your own anniversary day, of course you also forgot to actually make a gift despite tons of ideas in your journal and Pinterest board.
“Jia, I didn’t get him a gift!” It wasn’t even noon yet, and you’re already close to breaking down for the third time today.
“Well, the department store is just around the corner. I can come with you at lunch to buy something last minute.”
You shook your head and explained to her that buying some expensive stuff isn’t enough. Knowing your husband, he already made you a gift days ago. You’re not sure if it’s something from his woodshop or if he composed you a song, all you know is Yoongi probably made you a gift with love. No amount of money could compare to that.
“Well, there’s always sex?” At the sight of your face crumpling once again, Jia took back her suggestion. “Or not! Honestly, Y/N, this is why I’m all single and alone in life so I don’t have to give people gifts and you’re making me stress about your own anniversary gift.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“And really, you’re worrying about gifts when…” she paused to look down at your belly. “Have you told him yet?”
You shook your head.
“Well, there’s your anniversary gift, congratulations!”
“This is a stupid gift." Despite your harsh words, you wrapped arm protectively around your middle.
“Why? You said you want to give him something you made, well you made that. He even helped, too!”
You couldn’t possibly just announce you’re pregnant on your anniversary day? Right? Sure, it’s convenient and practical – two celebrations in one night!
But that’s not the actual thing that’s been bothering you. You’ve been hiding your condition to your husband for weeks now, when you should have told him that he’s a gonna be a dad the moment you saw the plus sign on a stick. But you didn’t because you’re scared and if you’re gonna be honest, also selfish. Selfish to have Yoongi the Husband™️ all to yourself just for a couple more days before he turns into Yoongi, your husband and the father of your unborn fetus. And then that selfishness turns into guilt for not telling him, for distancing yourself.
A part of you wished he’ll figure it out on his own, that’ll save you a speech.
x◇x◇x
Even before you started to spent late hours at work, Yoongi always comes home an hour or so before you. It usually gives him enough time to prepare for dinner.
However today, he asked his friend Seokjin to prepare a romantic dinner for you two as he would busy himself installing the porch swing he made as his anniversary gift for you.
With his long hair tied in a half bun, a few strands tucked behind his ears and locked into place with pins, and a safety googles on his face, Yoongi began by drilling two holes up into the ceiling joists where he would screw the hooks. When he’s done and swept away the dust, he took the chains that’s wrapped in rope for extra support and aesthetic purposes and attached them to swing before hoisting them up to the hooks.
Despite wanting his gift to be all handmade, Yoongi had no choice but to buy a small foam mattress and throw pillows to decorate the swing. He placed them all nicely and removed his googles before sitting down and testing the swing if it runs smoothly.
Swinging for a couple of minutes gave Yoongi enough time to relax from the stress of his jobs, from setting this swing up, from all his fears and worries.
It gave him enough peace from all the doubts and questions inside his head. He hoped that this would give you the same. He hoped that you seeing this swing – the one you dreamed for so long, the one that he promised you because how could he ever say no – will help you remember that the fact that you two get to celebrate this day was because of your love for each other and the trust you’ve built all these years even before marrying.
Yoongi had set up the swing in the right side of the house, facing a line of tall trees that secludes this house from the main road, and close enough to the backyard for some peace and privacy that if anyone walks or drives in to your lot, they wouldn’t see you right away as the beams would hinder their sight. But anyone who’s sitting here would see just fine if there’s someone coming in.
Just like Yoongi saw your car rolled in right away to park next to his pickup truck. He stood up and waved his arm to call your attention, excited to show you his gift. When you didn’t see him, he jogged up to the front and flashed a smile when you jumped up in surprise at the sight of him.
“What are you doing outside?”
“I have to show you something, come on!” He went to cover your eyes for surprise and guided you to the back.
You were expecting some surprise in the backyard, probably a dinner he cooked but your assumptions came into a halt as Yoongi stopped only after taking a few steps. When he removed his hands and told you to open your eyes, a cozy porch swing greeted your sight.
“That’s…” you trailed off, walking closer and wrapping your hand around the chain-rope. From the bulky design of the chain and rope to the uneven height of the wooden slabs of the back support, Yoongi made you the exact wooden swing that you drunkenly drew a long time ago when you two just started dating.
“Happy anniversary, Y/N.” You heard Yoongi say behind you, and you wish he had said it the way he greeted you this morning – with such coldness and hurt. You felt like you didn’t deserve this with the way you’ve been treating him this past month.
Not wanting to hurt him any longer and bring back normalcy in your relationship, you turned to look at him, your eyes teary and said, “I… I'm sorry, babe.”
“Why? What is it?”
“I…” You cleared your throat and wondered which should you say first: you didn’t get him any gift, or you’re pregnant. You figured you should go with the bad news first before softening the mood with the good news, you’re just not sure which is which. “I didn’t get you any gift. I actually forgot it’s our anniversary today, I’m sorry.”
Yoongi fell silent before chuckling nervously. Sure, forgetting your own anniversary was bad, but that’s little compared to what Yoongi was imagining these past few days. “That’s alright, I thought it was something serious.”
“Why? What did you think I was going to say?” you prodded before you drop your next bomb.
“I don’t know what I thought, honestly. Things haven’t been quite well with us lately, Y/N.” He shrugged, scratching his nape. “I thought of pregnancy. There’s one where you don’t actually have a job anymore and just didn’t want to say it. I also thought you’re cheating with fucking Seokhoon—”
“Seok-Seokhoon? Why the hell would you think that? I couldn’t stand that guy.”
“I don’t know Y/N, you tell me, you’re the one who suddenly didn’t want to eat chicken because fucking Seokhoon is trying to be vegan.”
You thought about the lamb chops Seokhoon devoured at lunch today. You also remembered the night Yoongi was referring to, when you almost spilled your guts literally and figuratively at the smell of the chicken.
“Seokhoon isn’t vegan. But one of your hunches is true.” You walked towards him, taking his hand in yours and placing it on your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
Yoongi froze for a minute, staring at your eyes down to your stomach that he’s touching. His gummy smile slowly broke into his face, giggling as he asked to confirm, “Pregnant? With babies?”
You nodded, matching his smile. “Yeah, pregnant, but hopefully just a singular baby. Or fetus, I’m not sure, I haven’t been to a clinic yet. I was putting it off because I want you to be there at the first checkup since I left you in the dark when I took the test. I'm really sorry about that, Yoongi, I just didn’t know how to say it. I was scared and nervous myself about this baby and I kn—”
Yoongi cut off your ramblings by kissing you. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I thought you were cheating when you were feeling this way all on your own. I should’ve asked you.”
You shook you head. “I'm sorry I let you think that, too. But there’s no way I would’ve betray you for Seokhoon or anyone else, really. I love you so much, Yoongi.”
You stood in your toes to kiss him again, muttering again and again how much you love him and how sorry you were. His hands stayed firmly on each side of you, and you didn’t pushed him away this time. You looped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer.
This one kiss – after all those weeks of just pecking and short kisses, after the frustrating mess that happened earlier morning – was so hungry and powerful and mind-numbing. You wouldn’t even wanna stop if a lightning strike near you two. You missed him so much, you would’ve take him right here, right now.
But Yoongi pulled away, breathing ruggedly as he said, “You haven’t tried it yet.”
“Tried the what yet?”
“The swing, don’t you wanna take a ride on it?”
Despite his innocent question referring to the swing, your eyes mischievously glinted and an idea popped into your mind. You took his hand and gestured for him to sit down. Trying to calm yourself down, you kissed your husband first before prying his legs open and kneeling down between them, instead of sitting beside him.
“What are you doing?” he smirked, enjoying the sight in front of him.
“I was thinking I could ride you on it instead, but first…”
With a coy smile, you unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear, freeing his hard cock. Licking your lips in anticipation, you wrapped your hand around him, thumb circling at the precum beading on his crown.
Yoongi hissed at sensation, bucking his hips up. “Fuck, baby, don’t tease me. It’s been a month.” His hands ran through your hair to keep them out of the way and prompted for you to start.
“Happy anniversary,” you greeted him before placing sloppy, wet mouth kisses on the head of his dick and moving them down while your hand was steadily stroking the base and the other was gently squeezing and rolling his balls.
When you made sure to coat every inch of his cock with your saliva, you kissed his crown one more time before taking him in your mouth, trying to fit whatever you can while your hand covered the rest.
“Ahh, that feels so good, babe. I’ve really missed you,” he rasped.
You moaned around him as you felt yourself getting wet even just at the sound of his voice and at the feeling of his heavy cock sliding in and out of your mouth. One of his hands weaved into your hair once again to carefully guide you at the pace he wanted. He bit his lip in concentration as he tried to restrain himself from just snapping his hips up to fuck your face but failing a couple of times, making you choke and teary-eyed.
Yoongi couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, mouth wide open full of his cock, eyes in tears staring up at him. His other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek.
“You’re doing so good, baby, taking my cock so well.”
His moans were getting louder and he started to lose control of his hips, a sign that Yoongi’s close to his orgasm. You released his cock to tease him a little bit, swirling your tongue over again at the sensitive spot of his crown as you pumped his length, making him all whiny as he repeated your name again and again like a mantra along with few curse words, before sucking him whole again with the intention of swallowing his hot cum. Which Yoongi delivered, a lot. And loudly.
You pulled yourself off of his cock, still semi-hard, and opened your mouth to show him that you’ve swallowed every drop of his cum. Still breathing heavily, Yoongi smiled proudly at you. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, Y/N baby. Come here.”
“Not to doubt you, but are you sure this won’t give out on us?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling where the swing is hanging.
“Of course not, at least three people can sit here. We’ll be fine, even when we finally have our kid sitting down here with us,” he replied, helping you get up at your feet.
You stared down at him, grinning at the thought of your kid playing at this very porch swing their daddy made in the future. But first, it’s gonna mommy and daddy’s turn on the swing for a while.
Because of the disastrous shower session earlier, you tried to make it up to your husband by wearing his favorite black lace lingerie underneath one of your red dress that gave out the equal vibe of classy and slutty to entice him on. You also figured, might as well wear them while you still can.
You unbuttoned the dress open from the top, revealing the lacy bra, causing Yoongi to raise his eyebrows.
“You wore lingerie to work?”
“Yeah, it turned out to be quite itchy and uncomfortable to wear for a long time actually,” you pouted. “Help me out of it, please.”
Yoongi leaned forward, one of his hands held you firmly by your waist while the other slipped beneath your dress, running his fingertips along the edge of your underwear before pulling them aside to sink a finger inside your cunt and moving it in a ‘come hither' motion. He added another finger while his thumb drew circles on your clit to send you over the edge.
You gasped, your hands paused from unclasping your bra to balance yourself on your husband’s shoulders as he stretched you out, spreading your slick all over your slit. When your juices had dripped down on his wrist, Yoongi took that as a cue that you’re wet enough and hooked his hands around your underwear to remove them before pulling you into his lap.
He gathered the skirt of your dress, bunching them up to your waist. You bit your lower lip as your pussy was pressing against his cock, feeling hard and thick against your wet core. Feeling impatient as Yoongi kissed your neck, you tried to move your hips, chasing that pleasure the friction gave you, in which you earned a gentle slap in the ass from him.
“Take this off,” he said, toying with the strap of your bra.
You nodded like a good girl, unclasping them from behind and took the straps of your shoulders. Yoongi pulled down your dress, revealing your tits. He stared at them for a second, both of his hands cupping each breast gently, thumbs grazing your soft skin and hardened nipple. You were about to make a joke when he leaned down to start licking and sucking one of your tits, while he massaged the other one.
While he was busy, you attempted to get yourself off by rocking your hips against him again, whether on his cock or his thigh, you didn’t care. A cry left your lips when he slapped your ass once again, a bit harder this time, before proceeding to grab your ass in his hands and dig his fingers in to help you move. You whimpered every time your sensitive clit rubbed pass his tip, making him almost poked your entrance.
Yoongi switched his attention on your other tit, but never faltering his movement to make you come on his cock. He could feel you’re close, your folds fluttering against his cock, your hips jerking more uncontrollably, your juices running down on his skin to the foam cushion he newly bought, making a mental note to buy a new one.
“Y—Yoongi…” you moaned, eyes scrunched close and head thrown back. “Oh, I'm gonna—oh fuck Yoongi—”
He looked up from your chest to stare at the fucked out expression on your face as you come, his hands on your hips controlling your move to help you ride out your orgasm. When he felt that you’re almost done coming down from your high, Yoongi lifted you up to line his tip against your entrance and helped you sink down on his cock. You moaned loudly at the feeling of your cunt being stretched out so deliciously after a month without an intercourse.
None of you spoke for a while, but you were thankful that Yoongi didn’t fuck you right away and instead let you adjust to the size as he sucked and nibbled every inch of your skin.
“If I’m pregnant right now, does that mean we don’t need a condom for a while? Or you can still get me pregnant while I’m pregnant?”
“It can happen, but it’s rare.” Yoongi saw your concerned expression, so he asked, “Do you want me to wear one?”
You smiled and shook your head immediately. “No. I want to feel you.” With that being said, you hooked your arms across his shoulders and started to bounce on his cock, grinding your clit on his pelvis everytime you come down.
Despite the frustrations and longing that Yoongi had built up for a month, he managed to calmly hold back and sit there as you ride him. At the back of his mind, he was also hesitant to pound his dick in and out of you without a care because he’s afraid he might hurt the baby. So he let you control the pace while his hands wander over your body, palming your tits and smacking your ass.
“Ahh Yoongi… please, fuck me.” You couldn’t keep your upper body straight anymore as your walls began on clenching around his dick, so you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I can’t—I feel so close again…”
“I know, baby, I got you now. You did great,” Yoongi whispered tenderly, placing a kiss on your head. He gripped your thighs in place, thrusting his hips upward into you and picked up the pace to bring you to your second orgasm.
You cried out in pleasure as Yoongi kept hitting that sweet spot inside you, your body beginning to tremble in his arms. You could feel him getting close too by the way his thrusts were being quick and sloppy so you curled your hand around the curly strands on his nape, your lips leaving wet kisses on his neck as you tried to give him hickeys.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, holy shit baby…”
You were lucky you live in a remote place and didn’t have any neighbors for miles as they would’ve surely heard Yoongi's loud groans and your high-pitched moans as you came together. Yoongi had thrust one more time inside you, bringing your hips down as he flushed your bodies together and filled your cunt with his thick cum.
None of you wanted to move at that moment, just catching up on your breaths and occasionally rocking your hips into each other for a potential round two when your stomach had a sudden craving — dumplings.
And dumplings reminded you of — “Oh my, god, we’re gonna have a baby dumpling in a few months.”
“I’m not a dumpling,” he groaned, burying his face on the crook of your neck as you laugh.
Min Yoongi was many things—a carpenter, a songwriter and producer, a basketball player, a dumpling (despite his denial), your loving husband, and in a few months, a proud father.
Hello! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and please, reblogs and feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated :)
If you want to support me and help with my dental care funds, please consider tipping me at ko-fi.com/aphrodijin or commission me to write you a fic. I could really use some help.
Thank you so much once again, have a great day! x
©️ 2022 aphrodijin
#min yoongi#yoongi au#yoongi smut#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi oneshot#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#bts suga#suga x reader#suga fanfic#suga fic#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts au fic#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fic#min yoongi au#songfic
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— min ⋆ yoon ⋆ gi
myg fic recommendation list by clover. 🍀 ↓
♡ = smut ; ♤ = angst ; ♧ = fluff ; ♕ = favorite
main list
♢ vows ; ♡, ♤, ♕ // completed — by @hamsterclaw
⇝ arranged marriage, enemies to lovers // i’ve read this a few times and i love it sm. don’t forget to go to yoongi’s masterlist to find the drabbles to this (scroll down till u see vows and u’ll see all the drabbles)
♢ monachopsis ; ♡, ♤ // series — by @personasintro
⇝ husband’s brother, sperm donor // yoongi is so fucking hot in this holy shit. imagine your husband begging his estranged brother to donate his sperm and the brother’s only condition is that he gets to fuck you raw. hello????? i love mimi so much man shes such a sickening author.
♢ away from you ; ♡, ♤ // series — by @personasintro
⇝ shitty marriage, second chance // i love the development, the angry sex, the makeup sex, the dialogue, the interactions. just chefs kiss. + dilf(asshole)!yoongi like whats not to laugh.
♢ 3 tangerines ; ♡, ♤, ♧ // series — by @kithtaehyung
⇝ big brother’s best friend, fwb // ughh such a good fic. i still need to catch up but everything up to what i read is outstanding. so sneaky :p
♢ cybersex ; ♡, ♤ // one-shot — by @gimmethatagustd
⇝ callgirl, big brother’s best friend // again, brother’s best friend au I KNOWWW but trust me guys. oooooof when yoongi finds out the girl he’s been having phone sex with is YOU i was punching my walls.
♢ look down on me like that ; ♡, ♤ // series — by @here2bbtstrash
⇝ producer!yoongi, enemies to lovers // so fuckin good. the tension, the pining i kinda went crazy over this one. i still need to finish tho so no spoilers
♢ take five ; ♤, ♧ // completed — by @jiminrings
⇝ dermatologist!yoongi, co-workers // guys when i tell you this tickles my brain so good. the yearning and the stubbornness from both sides UGHH. i love this sm
♢ yoongi’s lullaby ; ♤ // one-shot — by @jiminrings
⇝ soulmates, unrequited love // if ur looking for pure angst just read this tbh
♢ perpetual datejust ; ♤, ♧ // one-shot — by @jiminrings
⇝ model!yoongi, mutual pining // again… just angst. pain. love it tho.
♢ in the darkest little paradise ; ♡ // drabble — by @sunnebeam
⇝ gangster!yoongi, sexworker!reader // just some good ole pwp. who doesn’t like gangster!yoongi pwp tho like….
♢ after hours ; ♡, ♤, ♧ // ongoing — by @archivedkookie
⇝ basketballcaptainfuckboy!yoongi, unrequited love // guys like the angst is so heartwrenching the way reader is so pathetically in love w him and he’s just nonchalant in everything he does UGHHH pls read its saur gewd.
♢ pending…
#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi x y/n#bts yoongi#yoongi#suga#bts suga#suga x you#suga x y/n#suga x reader#yoongi fic#yoongi au#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#min yoongi fic#min yoongi fics#min yoongi au#bts#bts fic#📁🍀.yoongirec#clover recs#cloverrecs#minors dni#bts reader#bts fanfic#min yoongi smut
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— a wager of lords & love | myg
♔ pairing: noble!yoongi x noble!reader
♔ au/genre: regency era au, arranged marriage au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst
♔ rating: M
♔ wc: 6,813
⚔ warnings: reader’s mom is not alive, era-appropriate sexism, sex jokes, pet names, bedding ceremony, explicit smut: fingering, marking, light breast play, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, you will fall so hard for yoongi.
♔ an: this story was written for Leah | @colormepurplex2 as part of the BangtanWHQ Valentine’s Event “Picture Perfect”. Thank you to my beta readers: @downbad4yoongi, @peachiilovesot7, and @moonleeai; this story was so much fun to write. Your feedback, as always, was valuable to making not only this story at it’s best but also making my day better when reading your comments. I love regency era au’s and this one only made me fall even more madly in love with Yoongi, and I hope you will too! Please enjoy!
“What in heaven’s name did I do last night?”
Yoongi groans as he rolls over in his plush bed sheets, sunlight streaming through the window at an ungodly hour. Ungodly, because he never sleeps in this late, but the Scottish whisky and late night at Lord Kim Namjoon’s manor has made him act out of character in more ways than one.
*flashback to the previous evening*
“Yoongi, it has been too long since we’ve gotten together properly. You must come celebrate. It’s not every day that one as young as I is able to acquire more wealth than what feels like the King himself can own.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes from where he stands across the study from his large oak desk, hand gripping the telephone to his ear as he leans closer to the box on the wall to reply.
“I have a plethora of worries, Namjoon, and none of them can be solved by celebrating your wealth.”
“I beg to differ! Come! Have a drink and make merry, partake in some illicit pleasantries. I am sure that’s just what you need to clear your mind and find a resolution.”
“I doubt I will have a resolution by the night’s end, but against my better judgment, I will be there.”
And Yoongi made sure to keep his promise, strolling into the large manor filled to the brim with the most darling of debutantes from Daehurst to Ilsansterchire. He recalls the way the single women seemed to throw themselves at him, all fluttering eyelashes and demure smiles as if they were captivated by his looks and not the wealth they knew lay in wait for his future bride.
The knowledge of his arrival spread like wildfire through the ballroom and Yoongi had felt himself grow flustered as a gaggle of pristine beauties crowded around him to fight for his attention. He kept his face nonplussed despite the rising anxiety creeping along his outer extremities and towards his chest. Luckily, the arrival of the Earl of Upton Busan and the Marquees of Gwangchester helped reduce the number of women in his presence.
Yoongi remembers pretending to be summoned by a friend, escaping into what he thought was an empty parlor that belonged to the late Lord Kim, but the sitting room, with two walls filled from floor to ceiling with books of all sizes and colors was, in fact, occupied. The large oak desk off to the side held an older gentleman, who also seemed to be happy in his solitude, hiding from the revelry.
The man moved a jewel-encrusted chessman across a marble chess board before looking up at Yoongi, a slight nod of his head summoning Yoongi over to join him. He produced a bottle of Smokehead Islay single-malt scotch whisky that he’d been nursing, poured Yoongi a hefty serving into a Glencairn whisky glass, which he promptly swirled to open up the aromas for full appreciation before downing the entire portion.
He knows that this was the catalyst for the conversation of what was bothering him, and so Yoongi, lips loosened from his liquor intake, shared to whom he found out was the Marquees of Seoulshire, his predicament. How his late father’s younger brother, jealous of his position, was sowing distrust in the elder’s bloodline, touting the fact that his eldest son was already married and with an heir on the way, when Yoongi had yet to take a woman’s hand in marriage despite being five years older than his cousin.
Typically, this would not be such a strange thing; many male nobility did not wed until their late twenties, and Yoongi only recently turned his twenty-ninth year, but with his estranged uncle vying to take over the wealth and power of the entire family following his father’s passing, Yoongi had to procure a wife, and fast.
Bonding with the elder nobleman, both introverts sequestered themselves with flowing, piquant beverages, and a small miniature of the only daughter of the Marquees produced for viewing, and thus, a drunken deal was struck for the hand of his only daughter to be wed in one week’s time to the Duke of Daehurst, Min Yoongi. That only daughter being none other than…
You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. The white dress, with its cut right beneath your bosom, is stifling despite its beauty, and the body of the gown falls along your figure gently. The sleeves are loosely capped, a lace frill edging the cuffs and the line of your decolletage. Your hair is pinned up, with a tiara inlaid with precious stones as the centerpiece to secure the veil flowing down your back in place.
The gloved hand of your maid of honor, Eleanor, who you lovingly refer to as Ellie, reaches up to fluff the veil, nervous energy displacing itself as she holds back from igniting your ire again. You have only just calmed down as your lady’s maid, Charity, places the last of the thrown perfume bottles back on the vanity. You had catapulted them for good reason, you believe. For in a few minutes, you, the unmarried daughter of the Marquees of Seoulshire, will walk down the aisle in the Duke of Daehurst’s manor, towards a man you have never spoken to—have never met—where your traitorous father plans to give you away to become the Duchess of Daehurst.
“Lady Eleanor, will you please take your spot at the door?” Charity asks quietly, following a quick rap on the door, and you feel your heart begin a mad dash within the cavity of your ribcage. As a woman, you have nothing—no power, no wealth of your own, even your title changes from your father to that of your future husband. Some of the things your father has bought you have traveled from your home to the Duke’s, but other items are expected to be bought new, because even they belong to your father. Your only worth lies in the ability to be a proper match for a nobleman and provide him with an heir to carry on his bloodline.
A rush of anger quells the sadness this arranged marriage has left you feeling this past week, since your father went back on the one promise he made you: that you could marry for love, like he did with your late mother, rest her soul.
You scoff at the thought that men should hold any power in society. In one moment, your own father forgot his loyalty as well as his promise to his only daughter. In a drunken stupor, two men agreed to trade you like chattel, your position in life changing in the blink of an eye. Useless, is what they are.
The door is open just a sliver, allowing in the swell of the music, and you hear the creak of the hinges as Ellie disappears down the hall. Your father stands in the corridor, his eyes staring at the floor, unable to meet yours. You can tell he feels rather guilty for the predicament he has forced on you, but with the knowledge that he is not actually mad at the match, you still feel furious. Marrying up in society may afford you a better life, not that you would have had a destitute one with your father’s title, you’d just hoped (and had been promised you would get) to be in love with the man waiting at the end of the aisle for you, instead of dreading the stranger you were about to meet.
Barely able to focus, you feel out of body as your father wraps your arm through his and leads you down the same path Ellie took just moments before. You can see the archway that leads into the wedding hall where your family and friends wait to observe you promise to obey and cherish a man who was described to you by your father as a “rather strapping young man, who’s quiet but wise and with gentle eyes.”
Taking the turn into the room, all eyes are drawn to you as your eyes are drawn to him. He looks breathtaking. Is this truly the man your father made a drunken deal with? The two of you lock eyes, and you work to fix the shock from your face as his demeanor barely changes. In a blink, your father is placing your hand into the Duke’s, and you are able to take in his features up close.
His face is sharp, eyes angled in a cat-like manner that give the impression he is gazing into your soul and sees the truth you attempt to keep hidden. His hair, wavy and pitch black, is parted to the side where the length falls into his face in an alluring manner. It calls to you, wanting to tuck it behind his ear if only to touch his porcelain skin, unblemished and glowing.
He watches you closely, eyes traveling across your frame as he follows your lead, drinking you in. You’re sure that you still look flawless, ever the blushing bride that Charity and Ellie made you up to be, and for a moment you wonder if the Duke is as taken by your looks as you are by his, before remembering that he is the enemy.
The ceremony ends quickly, a recitation of words that will join you in holy matrimony, followed by words promising to remain faithful to one another until parted by death, and you find yourself face to face with the Duke. He takes a small ring from the man right behind him, Lord Kim Namjoon, who you recognize from his many visits to handle business with your father.
“Like this ring, I shall endlessly provide for you and cherish you, until I no longer exist.”
You can hear Ellie swoon from the low tone his voice takes to deliver the sentiment as he stares into your eyes. Vulnerability flashes for a moment before he looks down, focus solely pointed towards the task of claiming you by way of a golden wedding ring, moonstone inlaid with tiny diamonds surrounding it.
Ellie nudges you to hand you the ring provided for the ceremony by the Min family. It is a deep ebony, with a single thin gold stripe running across the middle of the band. The top is raised to a plateau, a moonstone carved with the Yeoheung Min Clan symbol set within the ring.
Taking the regalia from her gloved palm, you recite your part with eyes on him. Despite your anger at the arrangement, he truly is breathtaking. It takes away from the sting of your words just barely, enough that you are able to deliver them without gagging on the bristling words.
“Like this ring, I shall endlessly obey and cherish you, until I no longer exist.”
You barely hear when the minister says that the two of you are free to share a kiss, but you dutifully keep your face calm as your stomach ties itself into knots.
He leans closer, blush colored lips drawing closer until your eyes close with the contact. So soft…his lips tenderly settle against yours, slight pressure as he angles his head to receive you better, hands falling to your hips gently as he tugs you a step closer and it’s like the room disappears leaving just the two of you in it.
All too soon the room comes back into focus as he steps away, face blushing as the room erupts into applause and cheer from the audience. The end of the ceremony is like a blur, and the next thing that you are aware of, you are seated for an early dinner and a reception in the Daehurst Manor Great Hall for guests to greet you and your new husband, leave expensive gifts, and offer kind words of advice for a long-lasting, happy marriage.
“Would it be weird to introduce myself to you, seeing as I am already your spouse?”
His voice is intriguing—having barely heard it during the ceremony—a low rumble that has you leaning in to hear him better.
“I assure you, my lord, weird was deciding for me that I would marry you, without even bothering to meet me beforehand. What if I had been an ogre? But I digress, it’s not any weirder than hearing you call yourself my husband, husband.”
He smiles, one side of his mouth lifting in an amused smirk as he turns in his seat to face you head on. You dislike him even more that your snide remark made not a dent in his armor. No trace of the bashful hue from the kiss lingers, cat eyes glinting with mischief.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my non-ogre wife. I am Duke Min Yoongi of Daehurst.”
Charity and Ellie can barely contain their laughter as they stare at your contemptuous face. Eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed, you shake your head rapidly in distaste at the bedding ceremony outfit they laid out for you.
“I simply will not wear it.”
“Please, Lady Min, you will leave him stunned. It’s perfect.”
“Who said I want to stun that man? Besides, I cannot be seen in so little clothing by a stranger!”
“He’s hardly a stranger, love,” Ellie said, ignoring your stubborn nature. “He’s your husband.”
“Yes, my husband whom I have known all of two hours! I’m just expected to strut in wearing this to please him, and then—” you pause, stricken as your thoughts settle on what is expected of you.
“Yes, you will wear this very thoughtful gift from me, and then you will consummate the marriage!” Ellie whispers the act as if conspiring to commit a crime. To be fair, you felt like a criminal for how indecent the undergarments were.
Laid on the bed was a short, white boned corset, all frill and lace with a matching pair of high waisted drawers. Ellie had also provided a matching pair of white stockings, made of silk and to be held up with ruffled garters at your thigh. There was a silky chemise that you could wear as a tunic to cover yourself, but once in the Duke’s bedroom, he would see you in all of your risque glory.
“Come now, m’lady, we must finish getting you ready. I am sure the men are chomping at the bit to begin the ceremony.”
Dread fills you as you strip from your wedding dress and step into the lingerie your maid of honor gifted you for your wedding night.
“Well, they can just chomp a bit longer, maybe they can tire each other out enough that I am not needed tonight.”
Having only bathed two hours prior, you are able to skip the bath and spend a few more precious moments with your closest friends. You didn’t have a mother to talk to about things like bedding ceremonies, having learned everything you could from the head house matron, kitchen maids, Charity, and Ellie. Ellie was able to convince her own mother to share a little this past week to help you, but there was still so much you felt you did not know to expect.
As Charity brushes your hair, Ellie spreads a glittering, perfumed powder onto your skin as she talks in the background of the excitement she feels, but you cannot bring yourself to share in it. With a quick twist and pin, your hair is up and you find your feet leading towards the Duke’s wing of the manor. You can hear the merrymaking from the reception still carrying on downstairs; with a wedding as important as yours, you were sure that the people would be here celebrating your union until the sun began to rise.
The door to the Duke’s room is ajar, loud laughter coming from the well lit room. Ellie walks arm in arm with you as Charity follows behind, seeing you off. As your lady’s maid, she’ll reside with you in the Daehurst manor. The housekeeper stands a few paces from the door to lead Charity to her new quarters. Bidding you goodnight, Charity retires for the evening as you and Ellie enter the bedchamber. It is quite spacious, with a large bed in the middle of the room. To the left of the entryway sits a low table surrounded by a pair of armchairs and a matching loveseat, all framed by a magnificent fireplace.
Every seat is taken, with three men squeezing onto the loveseat and a sixth perched on the edge of one of the armchairs. You don’t recognize five of the six men, though Lord Kim Namjoon is among them. You do not see your new husband, so you and Ellie remain standing away from the men so as not to be seen as indecent.
“Duchess! You have arrived for your bedding ceremony, have you not?” A blond haired man nearly falls from the love seat, giggles alerting you to his inebriation. An open decanter sits on the squat table, almost empty.
“Please, Jimin, on all things that are holy, do not bother my wife.”
Your head whips around at the gravely sound of the Duke’s voice. Yoongi looks freshly bathed, no longer in a suit but in a long tunic that sits untucked over loose, black trousers. His dark hair falls in damp curls framing his face, and you hold in a small gasp.
“I won’t bother her hole-y, hyung—that’s your job! Get her all hot and bother—”
“Get out.”
The giggling, intoxicated men all look to Yoongi, pouting with various levels of frowns and scowls adorning their faces. You and Ellie watch the interaction, Ellie with a smile at their banter and you with a grimace as you attempt to keep yourself from growing warm at the indecent remarks regarding what is to come.
“But hyung!” You watch as another one pouts, standing from the loveseat to full height to plead with your husband. “You’re the first to be wed, we’ve been talking about being witnesses for each other for years!”
“Taehyung, you know the plan was to be here when she arrived as a testament to the wedding night, but never to stay. I appreciate your…excitement, but now that you can confirm the duchess’s arrival, you all may take your leave.”
“Appreciate our excitement, but won’t let us stay to watch as you get exci—”
“Jungkook, that’s enough! Out, now!”
With a groan, the three mischievous men begin to walk out of the bedchamber, waving at the older three who are slow to get up. Ellie squeezes your hand in unity before stepping away to follow the boisterous group out into the hall.
“I’ll see you at breakfast, love. I’ll be traveling back to Seoulshire with your father tomorrow afternoon.”
You can only nod, aware of the plans but seeing her linger to make sure that you are okay. You give her a smile, and she finally steps through the threshold behind the first troupe of men to return back to the room you had prepared in. The last three men follow, greeting you and saying goodnight in the same breath.
“It is a pleasure to see you, my lady. I pray that by morning you are able to turn this peevish man affable.”
“Enjoy your night, Duchess!”
“Yeah, all two minutes of it!”
Yoongi thunders to the door, shutting it as the group bursts into laughter muffled by the oak barrier. He turns the lock, then turns his back to it to lean against. You can’t help but to watch him, chest rising before he releases a long sigh. He reaches a hand up to his neck, scratching subtly. The sleeve of his tunic slides along his arm, revealing more unblemished skin. His head is facing the carpet, ink-colored hair falling to cover his face—a face you think you could like very much—eventually. Though right now, even the thought is not enough to quell your irritation at your welcoming.
“I am so sorry for my friends’ behavior.”
His apology startles you. You are not used to men of his prestige to be so easy to offer an apology. During the wedding and at the reception, he appeared stoic, quiet and observing except for the few moments he engaged with you. You assumed it was just happenstance, that he was playing off of your stubborn jests, but seeing him now so open makes you wonder.
“My lord, no need to apologize. They were inebriated and excited for our coupling. Ellie was excited too, though she was better at keeping it hidden.”
“Yes, women do tend to be better at that. More practiced.”
“Do you truly believe that? I have watched my father work, and all noblemen seem to be very good at hiding their emotions.”
Yoongi smirks at your wit, pushing off of the door and walking closer to you.
“You are quite keen, my lady.”
His compliment startles you, as does his encroaching proximity. It is not menacing, if anything you are startled by your body’s response to it. His scent, a heady, woodsy musk infiltrates your senses causing any lingering animosity you had towards your father for this arrangement to seep from you. You’re tired of fighting; the knowledge of having lost before even starting lingering in your mind each time you fight back against the marriage has exhausted you. Still, you want to make sure that the Duke is aware that while you may be acquiescent, you are not easily compliant.
“My lord, I—” you look down at your hands, stumbling over your anger as you collect your thoughts. “I just want to say that I know neither of us wanted this, neither of us knew what to expect until we saw each other today, but I made a vow, so I promise to try my best, but I don’t know what I’m doing or what you expect from me, and I don’t think that I will be good at obeying, so please do not expect that from me. You may be a duke and my husband, but I demand that you treat me as an equal—”
“Shhh…” Yoongi’s thumb and forefinger grip your chin, tilting your head up to face him. You have no idea when he got so close. “I spent quite some time with your father, my lady. He spoke very highly of you and even produced your miniature from his coat pocket to show me. I may have been drunk, but I was not a fool in my decision.” His eyes rove across your face as he gently tilts your head side to side. “You are much more beautiful than the painting captured.”
If he’s hoping that flattery will tamper your annoyance, you feel he will need to try a bit harder. Though, to be fair, his flattery is working on you. Pair that with his face, and he’s doing quite a good job at putting out the fire, but you still remain steadfast.
“How lucky to be a man. You got to see a sample of the product before buying, while I just had to trust that my father wasn’t so drunk that he sold me to the next man who walked past?” You scoff, crossing your arms as you raise your chin out of his hold in defiance.
“Trust me, princess, the luck was all mine. Had I not been the next man to walk by, who knows what woman I would have had to settle for.”
You can’t believe he’s teasing you. Calling you princess and making jokes off of your distress. You want to smack the smirk off his face. You want to kiss him again like at the altar. You’re clearly confused after such a long day of upheaval.
“Right, because any woman should be grateful that you chose them? I was promised I would get to marry for love, just to wake up and be told I was marrying a stranger in a week.”
“Are you really angry because of this arrangement? Not that you should be grateful that I chose you, but you should be thankful for the life that you have, even before me. Not everyone lives how we do.”
Shock. That’s the only way to explain what you are feeling. He is not…man-splaining society’s plights to you, is he?
“I quite know this, my lord. I never said I was not grateful for my life, just that I am currently upset at a promise being broken.”
“Princess, I am sure you know this, but in your stubbornness, you seem to have forgotten yourself. You have a good life, you have food on the table prepared daily by the cooks and maids, and are not having to whore yourself out for a few coins to feed yourself.”
“No, I just have to whore myself to you for the rest of my life, provide you with heirs as soon as possible.” You decide to not hold back; if he’s going to be vulgar as a tactic, two could play at that game. “I may not be whoring myself out for a few coins to feed myself, but let’s not kid ourselves. We both know that I am not seen as anything more than a vessel for your cock and your children to use.”
“Tell me, princess, are you upset because you truly think me some evil, vile man, or are you actually more upset that you don’t have a real reason to push me away?”
Yoongi steps away from you, walking over the bed and settling down on the edge. You can’t help but watch the way his veins move as he leans back and rests on his palms. He’s so handsome and so assured of himself, and behaving as if he doesn’t even care that it’s your wedding night. You really don’t know how to explain how you’re feeling, because everything is at odds. He mistakes your silence during your internal debate as confusion and continues to explain.
“I know I’m not unappealing to the eye, and not an old geezer like many of your friends have had to deal with, I’m sure. We probably aren’t that far off in age difference, if there even is any. We’re young, and while you may be feeling angry about this marriage, I also get the feeling that you’ll be open to letting that anger go soon.”
“I barely know you, my lord, so please don’t take offense to this, but what, pray tell, gives you the feeling that I’ll be letting my anger go soon?” you ask, walking over to where he sits. You feel powerful as you position yourself right in front of him, and being above him like this with his head turned up in order to lock eyes with you, makes his cat eyes look even more alluring.
“Because, my dear wife,” Yoongi leans forward, entering your space as he brings his right arm up off the bed and to your thigh, “of what I plan to do to you tonight.”
Yoongi’s touch is like fire as he drags it up your thigh to the hem of your chemise, using both hands to grip the edge and pull you even closer to him. You inhale a breath, your body giving away just how much he affects you. The last tiny bit of you fights to not give in, that is, until he pouts up at you.
“If you’ll let me?”
Never have you experienced a man handing control over to you like this. All your life, you have been told what to do, how to behave, who to befriend, and even who to marry despite being promised that would be the one area you could decide. But here sits your husband, a man who quite literally holds you in his hands, able to do whatever he wants with your body now that he essentially owns you—this husband of yours is asking your permission to ruin you.
Unable to speak, you simply nod, eyes wide as he stands, and he never looks away from yours until your chemise blocks his view as he pulls it over your head. Now it’s his turn to inhale sharply as he takes in your angelic form. White lace corset ending just below the bust, high waisted lacy bottoms, ruched garters around each thigh with a clasp to hold your silk stockings in place…an angel, indeed.
Leaning closer to you, his words send tingles down your body as he pleads with you.
“I need you to say it, my lady,” he whispers, “tell me that I can touch you here.”
You jolt as you feel his hands touch the exposed skin of your side.
“Y-yes,” you say, clearing your throat due to how parched you sound.
“And can I, say, touch you here?” One hand trails lower, fingers dancing over the front of your drawers as the other holds you in place. Two of his fingers slide between your thighs, pressing against your core, and you sigh out a quiet moan.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good girl.”
His fingers continue to travel back and forth, slight pressure causing you to grasp his shoulders for balance. He drops his head into the bend of your neck, lips leaving wet kisses on your overheated skin. He smells divine, his long hair tickling your cheek as he continues kissing and touching you. Your breathing gets louder, and he responds in kind, speeding up his fingers as you feel yourself ruining your panties for this man.
“Y-yoongi…that f-feels really good,” you tell him, surprise lacing your whimpers. You don’t want him to stop touching you, if anything you want more. Yoongi’s lips are latched onto your neck, tongue swirling with light pressure as your knees grow weak. With a light nip of his teeth, he pulls away to speak.
“I want you to always feel good with me, princess.” His gravelly voice is full of yearning, and you can tell he’s just as affected as you are. “I promise you’ll always feel good, if you let me take care of you.”
You can only nod your head, words eluding you as he turns you in his hold, pressing your back to his front while letting his fingers slide inside of your panties and part your lips. You feel his length pressing between your cheeks, thick and firm. He steps backwards with you, pulling you down until the two of you are seated on the edge of the bed. You’ve never been so turned on, dropping your head back to lean on his shoulder as he pulls one thigh to open you up wider.
You put up no fight, instead grinding down on him as you swirl your hips in time to the pads of his fingers circulating your dripping center. His lips reattach to your exposed neck, this time with more passion and it almost distracts you when his fingers dip inside of you, bucking once in his grip at the welcome intrusion. He’s gentle, only going as far as you let him, and the more he does it, the less you tense up, until he’s gliding in and out of you.
You’re unable to stay quiet any longer, every breath letting out a moan that is a melody to Yoongi’s ears.
“I…Yoongi, I think…I’ve never done this before, what’s happening?” you breathe out, and he chuckles darkly.
“Do you trust me?”
“I—”
“I promise it’ll feel good, okay? Trust me, and don’t fight it.”
“But—” his fingers don’t let up, and you squirm on his lap.
“Princess, be a good girl and trust me, don’t fight it—don’t fight me anymore.”
“O-okay, I trust you, Yoongi.”
Letting go, you relax into his hold as he resumes kissing your neck, left hand pulling your chin until your lips meet his in a sloppy sideways kiss. His foot presses against the inside of yours until you groan at the muscle strain. Your legs are so far apart, but it feels even better as his fingers begin a rapid thrusting. He swallows all of your whimpers as you feel your body reaching a peak and it all just feels so good, his free hand leaving your chin to touch your chest, hands roaming as you rock your hips to meet his palm against your sensitive nub and with a simultaneous bite to your bottom lip and pinch to your neglected nipple; you feel yourself combust.
You swear you see fireworks behind your eyelids as you tremble in Yoongi’s arms, barely alert enough to hear him whispering words of praise as he works you through it. It’s not long (or has it been ages?) before your hands push at his, overstimulation causing you to mewl in frustration.
It feels good and you don’t want to stop, but your body can’t take more. Not right now at least.
“That’s it, you did so well.”
“Me?” you question, voice raspy. “I didn’t even do anything but sit here.”
“Trust me, you did plenty. I think you can feel exactly what you did to me.” Yoongi alludes with a slight thrust of his hips, and you in fact do feel him.
“That’s because of me?”
“It’s all because of you. Your sounds, the way you were grinding onto me, the way you taste…” Yoongi slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking your essence from his two fingers lewdly. “You made me this way.”
Your face grows impossibly warmer at the thought of the power you have over a man such as he, and your ability to bring him to this level of vulnerability.
“Does…does it always feel like that?” you question, wondering if it could possibly get better.
Yoongi can barely contain his smirk, “Oh, dear wife, that was just the appetizer.”
Lifting you off of his lap, he sets you down next to him so he can stand and shed himself of his clothing. Naked, he stands before you in all of his glory so you can take in just how well endowed the duke is before kneeling on one knee.
“Can I take these off of you?” he asks, hands gesturing to your hips. You softly say yes, and once your ruined drawers are discarded, he then touches the sides of your corset. “And these?” Nodding, he leaves you in just your silk stockings. “I rather like how these look…”
Still kneeling, he takes your leg and leans you back until you’re sprawled on your back and he has a perfect view of your heated core. He kisses along your clothed leg until he reaches the skin of your thigh, biting lightly until he rests your leg on his shoulder. Turning to the other leg, he does the same, this time going all the way up. You throw your head back into the soft, satin sheets as your hands grip whatever they can. His tongue explores your sensitive area, lapping at your pearl until you’re incoherent, hands tugging at his long tresses to guide him where you want him.
There are no words to describe how Yoongi is making you feel. You’ve never felt this way before, so powerful or in control. You wonder if he’ll always be this willing to hand over the reins. Either way, you plan to savor it.
The sounds coming from between your thighs are obscene, but the louder and sloppier Yoongi is, the better it feels.
“Yoongi, oh!” Your toes curl as another wave of euphoria grips you. Tender kisses along your stomach just barely keep you from floating away as Yoongi brings himself higher and higher along your body. His teeth nip at your breasts, teasing as he laves his tongue around your nipples, perky against the air in the room. Chest heaving, you try to gather your wits as Yoongi’s naked body lays along yours, his hands on either side of your chest as he massages them, spending ample time tasting everything your body has to offer.
“My lady, if you’re ready, I’d rather like to feel you.”
In your post climactic haze, you try and understand what he’s asking.
“Feel me?”
“Yes,” he says, kissing your neck and you don’t understand how your body can still crave for more just from his lips on your skin, “I rather ache for you, princess.” The meaning becomes clear when he adjusts himself over you, and you feel the thickness against your thigh. You are aware of what he needs, how he means to alleviate his ache, and for a moment, you’re scared.
It all fades away as he kisses you, his lips soft against yours as he soothes away the worry.
“I’ll be gentle, I promise. If it hurts, just tell me to stop, okay?” he presses another kiss to your lips, and you melt.
“Okay,” you whisper as you pull away from the kiss, “I trust you.”
He smiles, this time a genuine one at your words before kissing you again. You feel yourself getting lost in it when a pressure at the apex of your thighs causes you to gasp. Breaking the kiss, you look between your body and Yoongi’s watching as his cock, flushed and rigid, breaches your core. He’s going slow, and he lowers himself back down to kiss you more, wanting to take your mind off of the pain as he fills you.
“You’re…impossibly tight…” he pants, and you would laugh if you were in the mindset, but at the moment, you are all consumed by Yoongi. He pushes another inch, stopping to allow you to grow accustomed to him, and you know that this is unusual for a wedding night—you have heard the horror stories from other women, and this has been anything but. Yoongi has made sure to let you have ownership of your pleasure tonight, and even now, he looks to you for confirmation that he can continue on without hurting you.
Raising your hips, you help guide him in the rest of the way, and he grunts as his forehead touches yours. His arms shake as he holds himself above you, wanting to take you with haste, but knowing he must control himself for now.
Reaching for him, your palms settle on either side of his face, bringing him closer to kiss you as you roll your hips against him. He huffs, pulling out to give you a good, even stroke, and you nearly scream at the pleasure and pain of it. He apologizes against your lips, but you shake your head, urging for more. He complies, though slower this time, not wanting to scare you off from sharing his bed. Yoongi is so gentle, sweet even as he swivels his hips, and you move your hands to grip his hair and his shoulder, leveraging to meet him with every gyration of your lower body.
A few tugs to his hair leaves him cursing in gratification, and soon you feel his hand reach to your leg to lift. His thighs speed up as he thrusts haphazardly into you before you feel a hot release of his seed filling you and spilling out around his cock, now lazily unloading itself as he slows with each jolt. His release provides you with just what you need to follow him, walls clenching around him to milk the last drop.
Sighing, the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Yoongi’s fingers smoothing your hair as yours play along his chest, a feverish color now spread across his decolletage after your love making.
“I’ve never experienced such a blissful feeling as this,” you admit.
“Likewise, my lov—my lady.” Yoongi corrects a slight slip of the tongue.
“It’s okay, I think I could quite like being called your love,” you tease, though your words ring true. You now know what you felt with Yoongi. Liberation. A freedom you have never felt as a woman, provided to you in the most surprising of places: the arms of a man.
At breakfast the next morning, Ellie can’t help but notice the way you seem to glow as you sit at your husband’s side. The two of you can’t stop touching, whether it be holding hands or light touches to each other's arm as you two talk with the others who stayed overnight. Being married may not have been what you had seen for yourself a week ago, but after last night, you have a feeling that you could fall deeply in love with your husband, the Duke, and he with you, his Duchess.
“Marriage isn’t all that bad, is it, my love?” Yoongi whispers as the maids pass around the breakfast foods, and you shift your gaze to the marks you left barely hidden by his collar from an early morning romp.
“No, my love, I rather find that you have proven me wrong, and I quite like that.”
“And I quite like you.”
“You had better!”
© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved.
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Stop, you’re losing me~ - one
————————•。・. ゜・。_________________
Summary: The last time you saw Yoongi wasn't one of your fondest memories. And actually, you thought that after ten years you no longer had any more tears to shed for that memory, for that situation, for him.
What was the problem with meeting him again at his brother's wedding, right?
Right?
pairing: idol! yoongi x vet!f reader.
Words: 9k
genre(s): angst, hurt- comfort, slow burn, fluff, smut (+18) (not this one tho)
au(s): childhood friends - to lovers, idol yoongi, normal vet reader, entertainment industry, denial and resentment.
warnings: curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, panic/anxiety attacks, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling. Yoongi is here to help tho♡.
author’s note: just wanna let you all now that I’m so exited that this is out now! Hope you enjoy it and if you have any suggestion just let me know! I don’t bite 🐇. Also, English it’s not my fist language, so please be patient with this dumbass
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IMPORTANT: this fic contains a lot of sensitive topics touched upon explicitly. Please, if any of the tags trigger something in you, stop reading. You’re more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡
enjoy!
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main masterlist
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“Where are you?”
“Outside.” In fact, he had gotten out of the car a second ago, and he wasn't going to answer, but he didn't know where they were either; the place was exaggeratedly large.
“Get in here then, you're late.”
“I’m at the entrance... where are you?” His voice breathless, he ran a lot in less than 20 minutes.
“Your brother is about to faint, so you’re going to see us easily. The first row.”
Yoongi hung up the phone, and sure enough, it wasn't difficult for him to find his family right at the end of the place. His brother looked around restlessly, probably looking for him or his fiancée, because he knew he was late, but he didn't seem to have started yet either.
His father, on the other hand, observed his brother's concern with the empty gaze he had always had from his seat, blinking slowly without saying much. He smiled a little at the scene (also a little relieved to finally be there) and started walking quickly, straight there, without looking at anyone else.
He greeted some of his aunts from afar, bowed to others he didn't know but greeted him, and ended up meeting his brother's eyes, almost finishing his journey. The concern on his face changed to one of anger, and he approached him as if suddenly he wasn't about to get married and be responsible for a family. His posture was the same as when they played as children, and his mother had to separate them for a toy.
It gave him chills.
“Hel-“
“Where the fuck were you.”
Yoongi frowned exaggeratedly at the bad word, looking at his father, who was watching everything in the same exact spot with the exact same cold and calm eyes.
“You’re not going to say anything to him?”
He didn’t respond, and Yoongi chuckled when his brother insulted him again.
“Calm down, if mom hears you, she-“
“You’re half an hour late, Min.” Finally, his father, mad. He can tell just by his voice. Yoongi shrank from the scolding and grimaced, looking at his brother.
“I’m sorry.” One. Sooner than he expected “They didn’t let me go sooner.” Greum-Jae didn't even seem interested in hearing an excuse; Yoongi had never seen him so angry before. But he still dared to continue speaking. “I get you’re mad, and I’m sorry, but don’t be mad with me right now. This is your day, we can fight later, and I’m here. I’m really sorry, for real, it wasn't my intention to ruin this for you.”
“Now it’s my job to be calm?” Jae fled from his touch. “To ignore your mistakes? You literally have one job.”
“I know I- I don’t have any other excuse, okay? I’m really sorry.”
Two.
It was subtle, but after a moment, his gaze softened, and so did his body, which was the most noticeable. Jae hugged him, and Yoongi smiled sadly, because he did feel bad, but, of course, it wasn’t the time to show it.
“You’re lucky she’s late too, and that I’m in a good mood right now.” He knows. “Missed you…”
“Me too.” His smell, his hugs, his voice. His home. He missed. “You are in a good mood, though? You look like you're about to throw up.”
He hit his shoulder, breaking the hug and getting closer to his father. Yoongi says hi to him without receiving a response, of course. He looked older and tired, which made him think about how long he had not set foot in that city. He squeezed his fist, unsettled. “I’m nervous; of course I look like that.”
Yoongi was going to ask why, genuinely interested, because he didn't understand why he should be nervous. He wasn't supposed to do anything more than 'yes, I do' and be with the person he loves most for the rest of his life. He also understood that, from the context, Yoongi would never understand it, and he didn't feel like doing it either. Also, he shouldn't be that direct, so he swallowed his question and leaned with both hands on the empty chair next to his father, placing all his weight on his arms.
He wanted to ignore the fact that he felt watched. There were a lot of people there. He hadn't taken a look to see how much he knew and how much he didn't, that was an activity he would leave for when they were dancing and there was less light. Right now he knew that everyone was looking at him, and he didn't like it because, although it was a family and private event, he couldn't completely ignore it. Photos of him would still come to light. It was, in fact, one of the discussions he had with the company days before.
“Your brother doesn't want to hear you, but I do. What is more important than your brother’s wedding now?”
Shit.
Jae was now talking to someone who came to tell him news about Eun, and he had walked away. He could only hear the echo of people talking, laughing, and happiness. Yoongi didn't want to have that conversation right now.
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“You’re being unfair right now.”
The man sighed.
“I’m just asking, Yoongi." And his voice sounds different too, so Yoongi didn’t like it. “If I’m not right, why don’t you tell me? You know I know when you're right, and I'm not. I'm not stubborn, you're locking yourself in."
Yoongi wrinkled his nose because he was right in a way, and he hated that it was like that. It was true; he didn't know why he felt so cornered all of a sudden. Stretching his arms and looking at the ground, he became a little dizzy. His whole body suddenly hurt; maybe all the fatigue of those months came upon him.
“Working.” He was honest even so, knowing what was coming. His father didn’t move in any sense. “I was working, but it wasn't'more important than this’. They wouldn't let me go, for real.”
“You didn’t take a day off?”
“I can’t. I’m on tour right now, and I asked permission, but you know that they’re not flexible with the times.
“Just like your mother's birthday. Or every Christmas.” He sounds sad now, almost disappointed. Mad, but really sad. “We invite you, but you never come. Your brother was shaking yesterday. He really wanted to see you.”
There was silence. A big one, where you could still hear the murmurs of the people, the echo of the grandeur of the place, the clicking of heels, and the shy laughter. He gave them both time to realize where they were, that they were in suits, and that, after all, he hadn't seen that man in a long, long time.
Yoongi's apology stuck in his throat—another genuine apology.
A third.
“I'm sorry, son.” His father says instead. Yoongi had heard it a few times in his 30s. “I understand. We understand, but... we always do. Me, your mother, and your brother today. He has all the right to be mad; we all are, but you’re doing your best, and we’re getting old too.” This time he looked at him, smiling a little. Yoongi does too, but his was a sad one. “Just don’t forget about your family. I just hope I make it to your wedding too.”
“Pff.” They laughed, and the son nodded, his nose still wrinkled just thinking about it. “I can only do the first one, sorry. That’s why Jae did it first. Maybe I don't invite you to a wedding, but you have been sitting more than once watching me in a stadium with more people than here.” He looked at his brother with his eyes. He continued talking to that woman, nodding, biting his lip, having an awful time, and if it wasn't bad, then something questionable. Yoongi could swear his palms were sweating. “I honestly don't feel like... being that worried.”
His father looked nothing in the front, with a smirk on his face. Yoongi realized how old he turned again.
“You just haven't found the right person to be like this for.”
That doesn’t sound like his father. At all.
He looked at him again and couldn't say anything when his brother was already in front of them, smiling and wiping the sweat from his hands.
He knew it.
“She’s about to arrive, take your seat.”
Yoongi left the back of the chair where there was supposed to be another person there who wasn't there, and frowning, he looked around the room without really doing it, realizing that he was missing someone to greet.
“Where’s mom?”
And as if he hadn't been listening to laughter, murmurs, and voices of people for ten minutes that filled his ears non-stop, right after that question, a specific laugh seemed to answer his doubt, reversing his pressure and causing a strong shiver to run down the back of his neck.
He turned quickly, perhaps even a little disbelievingly, and then, he saw you.
Not his mother, though. Or yes, her too, but his eyes fell on you first because it was always like that, because that was your laugh, and because it was impossible not to.
Far away. The possibility of having heard your laughter was quite unlikely, even impossible. Seven or eight rows back. Of course, you were wearing baby blue, delicate, and tight. The fabric didn’t shine like your gloves do, and you had your long hair loose, tied up from the top just a little. You laughed heartily, teeth on display, his mother being the cause of your smile and your bright eyes. Such honest and grateful happiness, because why not, you both looked exaggeratedly happy to be in front of each other again. Her mother held your hands tightly, moving them up and down in time with her words, and you just nodded and responded briefly.
His heart stopped. He could swear he had even forgotten to breathe.
Yoongi didn't enjoy eye contact.
He usually runs away from it. He feels stupid, and he gets embarrassed quickly. It's a tense situation for him, but he was wishing with all his might that you two had it at that moment. That his eyes were heavy enough for you to turn to look at him and take a good look at you because your eyes had always been big and expressive, and he needed to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating.
At least that's what they were like the last time he saw them, so many years ago that he couldn't count them, and from what he saw from there, many things had changed.
You look breathtaking. You've always looked this pretty, but right now…
He didn't know if it was because he hadn't seen you in person for many years, up close, but unpleasant things were happening to him. His legs trembled when you finally looked back. Big eyes, make-up on, pretty color, and they opened, your moves frozen, and somehow, you two had an extremely uncomfortable visual conversation, as if you were face to face, and you didn't know what to say.
To his surprise, your gaze quickly changes to a more confident, almost cold look, and you bow with extreme lightness to say hello without intending to break contact. However, his mother did, hugging goodbye to you as soon as everyone started tidying up, music started playing, and Yoongi was forced to sit down, trembling, sweating, and unfocused, remembering how you looked.
He was there again, in real life, in Daegu, where he was born and grew up, where it was hot and dangerous to go out at night, where they used to live, and where he used to get lost when he could.
He had arrived that morning, but his brother, his parents, and you brought him back home.
“Shit.”
Not in a comfy, lullaby way. More like a cold water falling from the sky directly on the ground/ type of way.
He was there. You were there, feeling better than him, of course, but you don’t know. You had the whole month to mentally prepare for that reunion. Obviously you had a better handle on it, but you were also shaking, and you had to take a couple of breaths before you were ready for the wedding.
“Good?”
Seun was next to Greum when everything happened, in a way waiting as a spectator. Both in silence, from afar. Now he was waiting for you to respond, so he could start the recording in case you said something compromising. Both of you were in your assigned seats, with Jae at the altar.
“If it’s better than him, then yes, I’m great.” He laughed and checked at the entrance in case Eun was peeking out. He wanted to see her dress. You shake your shoulders, trying not to look in his direction again, releasing tension.
“Well, I don’t judge him. Jae didn’t tell him you were here.”
You scoff, “He didn’t? We're some show to you two or something?” putting your brother's arm away (with more force than necessary. It bothers you that he didn't take seriously how you felt. More now that you were especially sensitive) so you can record properly. The music began to overwhelm you a bit.
Now. Suddenly they were all in order, therefore quieter, so you two had to continue the conversation in whispers. Jae was waiting for his future wife; the doors of the place were open, but nothing was happening yet.
“He told me months ago that he wasn’t sure if he would arrive. The invitation was made, but he hasn't seen him for almost a year. When-“ he stops, unlocking his phone that had turned off for not pressing record yet, making you smile. Your older brother reminded you a lot of your father sometimes, and you rarely saw him so excited and well groomed at the same time. Your dress color and his suit matched too. His idea. “When Yoongi confirmed he was coming, Jae didn’t have the time to tell him. So yeah,” you looked at him when he did, blinking. “I know he’s feeling a lot of things right now.”
Well, that was weird.
That doesn’t sound like Yoongi, Yoongi loves his brother, his family, at least the one you know.
The type of relationship you had now (null) didn't allow you to say that out loud, and, strictly speaking, you didn't understand his reaction either. He looked genuinely surprised; it shouldn't affect him if he was the one who broke everything in the first place. You assumed it had just been the surprise, and it would take you a good stretch of the night to be able to let go of the fact that they were there, so close but so far, to let go of the possibilities of talking, hugging him, and telling him how much you had missed him, know about him, how he handled things. Just as before. Because it didn't help you to think like that, and because how pretty and beautiful your best friend looked right now, happy, in white, and excited, couldn't be placed on anything else.
You hoped you could breathe in peace for the rest of the night. Although at some point you thought you could do it without problems, because once you wiped away the tears that came out of you when you saw Eun enter and the ceremony took place, between your brother talking to you, you were laughing at him because he had also cried halfway through. On the way, the rest of your family arrived, and an inexplicable happiness that ran through you as you were surrounded by so many people that you knew and hadn't seen in years consumed you, your head stayed busy. A lot, and you still had it in mind, but you were not alone, and that made you feel good, safe, and a little calmer.
It was easy for you not to give him your night. At least the first part of it.
Apparently, after the ceremony, the party, and celebration would take place in the same place. You weren't really surprised, in fact, it moved you even more because the place was gigantic, very tall, and beautiful, almost like a theater, and there were many, many people, enough to fill the place. Not in a suffocating way, but enough to get lost. It was mostly of age, older people, maybe grandparents you hadn't managed to meet before, and then there were people directly younger, but you knew those, Seun was a people butterfly. Friends of theirs, you assumed. Actually, Seun stopped explaining who the boy was sitting next to one of her good friends when a man, tall and good-looking, started to talk on a microphone.
“Now, now, and congratulating the bride and groom once again, we would like to call the loved ones of both to say a few words before the fun part starts.
Everyone laughed, and Seun looked at you. You forgot about that part.
“Let’s start with the parents…”
“I can go for you instead.”
“It’s okay.” You smile. You knew that he was doing his best to be able to contain you, and give you the best company, despite the fact that it was not easy for him. “I’m not made of glass.” You joke, listening to Eun’s mother speak already.
And well, for him, you were. At least right now, but he didn’t say it, scoffing to hide his thoughts. “I’m trying to be good. Dad it’s watching now, I have to be an example.”
“For what.”
“Shut up, don’t be disrespectful.”
You try not to laugh. He was nervous now. You never understood why it was so difficult for him to admit that he cared for others. Not even with Jae he dared to do it, or at least that's what you thought. You didn't know how he would tell the truth in his speech.
You were the last one. You knew this because when you arrived, Jae told you. Eun wasn't supposed to know you were there. Of course, she had invited you, but she didn't know if you would finally attend because you hadn't been able to communicate with anyone these last few months. You met once, when she came to see you at your house, but you couldn't talk about much. You were on another planet, it was like your head was disconnected from your body most of the time, and she assumed you wouldn't go.
You wanted to think that she hadn't seen you when she passed, but you doubted it. With the amount of people there, and with how focused she was on Jae, it was impossible.
Still, you were nervous. When you accepted, you didn't think you would be in front of so many people. Your heart was beating.
“Is that Yoongi?” Nara, your sister, asked your mother just behind you when he got position and greeted everyone.
“Yeah. Why he wouldn't?” Your mom responded a bit confused. You could hear her smile.
“I think you all were joking when you told me he was on BTS, for real. It doesn’t look at all like the Yoongi I knew.” You hear a laugh, a gentile one, and then your other brother making fun of her behind. Your dad scolds them.
Now, you take advantage of the moment to take a better look at him.
You wanted to blame it on the fact that your sister was only nine when she met Yoongi, and every time he appeared on TV or in videos she was told it was him, she just couldn't believe it. You just hoped those were her blurry memories of him, because you couldn't see him too differently from how you remembered it.
Maybe his hair was longer, he was paler, taller, his back had grown considerably, and he had that special glow that any celebrity would have. He looked like an entire adult now, too. He wore expensive clothes and good shoes, although he didn't seem to have put any effort into his hair, or his appearance in general, he looked incredibly unreal, so much that it makes you angry.
If you thought about it enough, and if you didn't know it was him, you would’ve struggled to recognize him too. You often saw him in magazines, posters, on buildings in Busan, on train pamphlets, on your cell phone and even in medicine, but seeing him in person was overwhelming. It was like seeing a stranger you already knew, but better yet, he was there, but at the same time he wasn't.
You take a deep breath when you realize that, despite all those things, his features were still just as soft and delicate, just like his mother's.
His knuckles still turned red without much effort, and he smiled the same way, making that slight pout with his lips before crying, trying to contain it, and he wiped the tears carelessly. You found your Yoongi in the one you were looking at right now, with little things, with gestures, with details that you used to admire more than necessary, they were still there.
and it made you feel nauseous.
You blinked a few times, snapping out of your trance as everyone applauded, and realized you hadn't heard a single word. He had even cried, and you didn't know why. You saw Jae stand up as he was called to take position on the small stage, and a much louder round of applause made you jump lightly. They came from behind, just that young section that assumed they were friends of both. There were a lot of people, and it didn't surprise you that Seun was already fooling around on his way to the small stage there.
“How are you feeling, blossom?"
Your father asked, taking advantage of the fact that you turned around to look at the crowd and that your brother was not there. They were both looking at you, and the rest of your brothers were talking among themselves.
“I'm okay.” It wasn't necessarily a lie. You felt just as bad as you do every day. Besides, you knew that they were referring to something more specific (Min Yoongi) than to your general emotional state, so you smiled slightly, closed, and placed your hand on your mother's, who was on your arm. “I’m good; don’t worry.”
As you predicted, Seun's speech was so unserious and absurd that it's not worth dwelling on. For some reason, everyone was laughing with him, he had livened up the atmosphere and unintentionally infected everyone with joy.
He soon returned to his seat and sat still with applause in the background. You couldn't believe it.
“I don’t get why he’s still your friend.”
“We’re in love, sister.” He asure. “This wedding is for three people. They will never get rid of me.”
“Shut up.”
“Now.” The good-looking man says “Briefly before eating and doing fun things, we have one more person who wants to wish you both the best, of course.”
You can see Eun’s confused look at her husband now, and he quickly grabs her hand. Your heart was ricing, you felt your mother's hand on your shoulder.
“Park ___, please."
Eun almost jumped from her seat, looking around, looking for you. You also saw someone else look for you in the crowd when you were getting up a little stiff because of your dress. You say sorry to an old woman right in front of you, who you accidentally hit softly because Seun didn’t move at the right moment.
“Oh my god.”
You didn't have time to get halfway down the hall to the front when a large white dress ran towards you to hug you. You smiled at the impact because you were a little taken aback by how strong it came and how big her dress was. You smiled when you already had her in your arms.
“You have been here all this time?”
“Of carouse.”
“Oh my god, thank you…” she softly says, hugging you even harder.
“I wouldn’t miss the happiest moment of your life.”
Because it had cost you, but you had arrived. Was she crying? Thank goodness people were still clapping because of the moving nature of the situation, and they couldn't hear you. You were trying so hard not to cry too.
If you did it, you wouldn't stop.
“I know you-“
“It’s okay.” You stopped her. “I’m okay.”
You squeezed her waist as a signal for you to start moving, and she moved away from you to caress your face lovingly and look at you like... most people have looked at you lately with pity and kissed your forehead.
Pity.
She took your hand, and the entire way, you could feel Yoongi's gaze on you. From the moment she hugged you until she kissed you and started leading you forward, like an exhibition, heavy, right next to you. He made you feel small, it was silly.
“Now stop crying; I haven't said anything yet.” You start, with the microphone in your hands, making everybody laugh, the couple too, Jae helping her with the tears. The place was in silence, the lights, the eyes, and the attention were just on you. So you take a deep breath and unfold the paper you’ve got prepared. “I- uh~” a sigh. “I don’t know how people do this without crying, I- okay.” You were nervous, but the place laughed again, so it gave you time to breathe.
“I still remember you both being taller than me, smarter than me, and older than me. I know that deep down all of you were so done of me, right behind there too,” all those people scream from behind, and you laugh. “because I used to talk a lot, and I carry my toys everywhere, so I can show it to all of you, and I made too many questions for people who are starting to be teenagers and want to look cool, but I wasn’t. I didn’t even care, I remember that. I was the pain in the ass that comes with Seun. Just a plus because Seun it’s a bother himself.” The aforementioned rolled his eyes, and you waited for there to be silence so you could continue. “I understand that now, and I just came here to apologize.”
The atmosphere after the laughter was now a little solemn, and in contrast to your brother, you were capable of poisoning the things you touched, and those who knew you knew that. You could see the newlyweds were a little worried, but you kept smiling, giving them confidence that nothing bad was going to happen. At least that wasn't your intention.
“Sorry for being the impediment for you to go out late at night or for having to return early from wherever we were... I- was with you.” Uh. You try to keep the smile. Shit, “sorry for being so annoying, and sorry for the fact that I didn't care. Because as much as I didn't like being with you sometimes, the best part of my day was watching you eat at my table, or Mrs. Min organizing my birthdays, and everyone coming with gifts that I genuinely liked because you all heard what I was saying even if I was giving you a headache.”
Unintentionally, you met those eyes again from afar, just when you were trying to control that lump in your throat because the worst part was coming, and you didn't know if you were ready. You said the following while still looking at Yoongi, not at you, surprisingly. “I miss it. I really do, and I’m so grateful that I carry all that with me.”
You look at the paper, change the page, and breathe. So you try once “I-“ and twice. “I- um…” a shaking breath sounds everywhere, reading the words, but you just can’t. “Sorry~” you're softly trying to laugh as you cry start, and you feel so stupid for breaking in front of a lot of people. No because it was bad, everybody there cried before you, but not because of the same thing.
“I love you!” You didn’t know who it was, but you smiled and responded with a really quiet and shaking'me too', giving you time to breathe as everybody laughed, and the atmosphere eased.
“Okay.” You say more to yourself, but you have a mic on your mouth, of course. “I didn’t write this part alone. Kija he… he is my twin, so of course he was with me in all of this story, but when he got sick and we were writing this months ago, he told me that I didn’t mention him in all this because it was going to be about me, not him… he’s kinda dumb.”
You laugh, trying not to tear up. You were holding the next tears, but like, fighting demons and everything to not cry. You, for real, didn’t want to cry in front of all those people. Your voice was obviously trapped in your chest, and it was shaking, but you couldn't do anything but breathe. You just have to be quick.
“But he told me that he wanted to tell you both that he and I were very proud to have seen you grow together, hate each other together, and deny that you liked each other together and today, for me, seeing you two married means a lot. I adore you two with all my heart. Congratulations, and I know you’re going to do a great job. I'm sure Kija would have done a better job telling him in person, but I'm here for him, so you know. He would- have loved to come, I have no doubt. Be happy, please, and no babies yet; I’m not ready.”
You didn’t remember anything after that, which means two things:
One, you need to calm down because two, you weren’t fine.
You remember the hug, and a few words both of them told you, and all the looks people gave you just after that, full of sadness and compassion (which was the first thing that made you want to run away). And at the party, you dance because you enjoy it, and you feel a little better, but people stop you all the time to give you their condolences because “they didn’t know”.
The cake was cut, the presentation was done, and you could only come back to the moment when you had your first drink of whiskey, and your body told you that it wasn’t a good idea. Your heart was fast in your chest, that would only make it worse with alcohol.
You need to breathe.
“Sorry, what?!”
You scream behind the music. Some girl named Hwan stopped you. (It came right at the beginning, when Seun was next to you, and you were pretending to listen to how she had recently graduated. Poor girl, honestly, she looks kind and lovely.) with two glasses of tequila and some salt in her hand.
“My friend!” She said. “I lost him, so take this!”
And then:
“Hurry! I have to go for more before they run out!” You were too agitated for this. This is a bad idea ___. “c’mon c’mon honey!”
Your hands were tingling, your breathing was short, and you were afraid. You had tried to go to the bathroom, but it was full, and it was even more claustrophobic than all those people. Right next to it, there were some stairs that you assumed went up to the balconies that surrounded the place. You were very grateful that it was high, enough to encapsulate the music on the floor below, and you heard it as if you were listening from a glass.
Or was it you?
You leaned on the railing and began to sweat. You closed your eyes, trying to calm down little by little, to look for things to think about, to feel something other than fear and anguish at the same time, but it was impossible, completely, and that made you even more desperate. You were breathing as if you had just run for two hours non-stop, and there came a point where your legs couldn't support your body. You couldn't feel your hands, cried a lot, trying to catch air, moaned in terror.
“please please please… stop just-“
You were trying not to faint, you were on the edge of a high place, and it was now dark for those below. It was when you felt like you really couldn't do anything. That you tried to stand back in case your body gave way forward, and it wasn't more dangerous when you felt hands on your stomach directly and the warmth of a body behind you.
A warm feeling that felt like burning on a straight fire
“Easy~ here,” you heard, far away from you, just like the music in a glass. The only thing that told you that he was literally glued to you was his touch. “Can you feel my hand?” You didn't respond, trying to run away. You didn’t want to be touched. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. If you want to feel better, you have to answer me, okay?”
“Hmm” a moan full of pain, was not even an answer.
“Okay?” They asked again. This time you nodded and felt the hand move on your stomach, the fingers more than anything, like playing a piano. Soft, but rough at the same time. “Can you feel it?” Your two hands were placed on his in an attempt to find support; you couldn't feel your legs, and after giving him an affirmative answer with your head, you complained again, your head was about to explode. “Move my hand with your stomach as you breathe.” And you did. Erratic and desperate “That’s good, but try it slower. Focus on moving it, not on breathing.”
“I- I ca-“
"Yes, you can. You do it every day; come on.”
You know, you just didn’t want to be there.
You try your best to move his hand. It was hard because you were sobbing, and trying your best to not think too much. So you closed your eyes, exhausted, and concentrated on the warmth that the stranger was giving you and the hold that, while at first it felt overwhelming and suffocating, now it helped. You felt stronger, even though you were about to faint.
So you moved the hand, and it worked.
“Good~ breathe.”
The air filled your lungs little by little, your head began to quiet, and the music entered your ears at a decent volume considering how far you were from the ground. Your hands were cold, they were shaking, but you could move them, and you still couldn't feel your legs, but you could hear the trembling of your breathing and how your nervous system was trying to regulate itself, blocking your crying in your chest.
You were exhausted, god, you would sleep there if you could.
“Better?”
And then you realize.
You know that voice.
It was soft, deep, and in your ear. So close that if you turned to see him, both of you would collide. His hands were bigger than they used to be and softer to the touch, pale on your baby blue dress, no scrapes like you used to heal, he’s no longer biting his nails.
‘Shit’
“Don’t touch me.” You said. He tense.
“If I let you go, you will fall. You're not even holding yourself up.”
He was right. And you hate it.
“What are you doing here.”
Your voice sounded agitated, almost like a whisper. You still didn't dare open your eyes; your eyelids were heavy, and the fear of facing him so close made you delirious. Even though you had your back turned to him, you felt him snort.
“God. You’re welcome?” You clung tighter to his hand. It's just that you got dizzy, and he held you when he felt you give way to the left. “I should ask that. You almost passed out on the railing, idiot, that's… fucked up.”
He calls you an idiot? You were too weak to call him something worse.
So you only say "sorry." Instead, letting him go finally, and you tried to stand up by yourself, but you wobbled
“Okay, okay, please don’t. I’m gonna…” His hands took place on your hips to guide you to some chairs in the corner, which you didn't see at first, of course. You weren't sure if his touch hurt more now that you were more conscious or before, when you were overstimulated. Felt the same, honestly. “Be careful, they look old.” You walked as he commanded, and once you sat down, you heard him say something you couldn't decipher. You finally opened your eyes to ask, but there was no sign of anyone.
Sighing, you rested your head in your hands and closed your eyes again. You didn't know if you were still dizzy and weak or if you felt that way because you were already drunk. They both make sense to you.
You heard noise after a few seconds and looked up. Finally, Yoongi's silhouette appeared in the hallway, he had things in his hands, and he was looking at the glass of water, concentrating so that nothing would fall on the floor.
“I’m definitely too drunk for this.”
This can't be happening to you. Could not.
“I put ice on it, so you can chew. It will help.”
His voice sounded unfriendly to what he was saying. Not angry or indifferent, but rather nervous and tense, as if he were speaking by opening his mouth a little, trying to make you believe that it was no a big deal, as always, but his nervousness didn't allow him to fool you. You raised your eyes to look at his, and he turned them away once you brought them together. You tried to hide a smile as you received the glass. Of course, he couldn't look you in the eyes. He cleared his throat, finally watching you receive the water, trembling in your hold. He tries to hold it from below in case you drop it.
You took a sip.
“Your makeup is smudged.”
Of course. You must have been looking stupid.
“What is that?"
He was offering you something, like toilet paper, but softer on a package. You couldn't see very well, it was just white.
“I’m not really sure.” He confesses. “I take them from the bathroom. They’re damp.”
You touch it with two of your fingers, just to not be rude, honestly.
“Thanks, but I can’t really see myself here.” There was no mirror, and if there was, it was dark. The only lights there were those on the dance floor, which were colored and did not shine directly on the place you two were having this... moment. “I don’t really care though, I’m living soon anyway”
He didn't insist, putting the package in his pocket. You maintained a silence that would have been more awkward if the music downstairs wasn't on, and if you didn't have anything to chew at that moment. Neither of you dared to look at each other, or start a conversation because it wasn't even enough for something cordial. You didn't have the strength to get up and run away, but just when you were going to tell him that you were okay, and he could leave, he took something out of his pocket.
Now you are invested.
“You mind if I smoke?”
You looked at him from there, taking time to process the information. You shook your head slightly, maybe even confused, but there was no point in being.
“Can you even smoke here?”
The place was big but closed, you didn't know if it was allowed.
“I doubt it.”
“Since when do you smoke?” You dared to ask.
“I don’t.”
No, because he hates the smell. His mother has smoked since ever. Yoongi hates that the smell gets stuck in everything and everywhere. No matter how much his mother smoked outside the house, he always ended up with his school clothes smelling like cigarettes. It was inevitable. He always complained.
There you were watching him right now, right in profile, blowing smoke from his cigarette as if he did it every day, even though he said he doesn't. Arms resting on the railing, well-dressed, looking anywhere but at you.
You wanted to stop assuming that this Yoongi was the same one who had left years ago. Because you didn't know, you were both two completely new people, total strangers who knew nothing about each other, yet, you wanted to think that, if that were the case, he would have already left. He usually walks away from what he doesn't care about or doesn't like, that's what he did with you when he left, because that's how you felt. It was nice to believe that he was now there himself because he wanted to be, but it didn't help you to think about it, not now. Just because he was there didn't mean he was back in your life, and as silly as it sounded, your brain didn't understand that. It was your job to stop him from believing something like that.
You chew ice.
“I don’t want to ruin the party for you. Go ahead.” Your voice is still dumb. He was watching the people dancing from there, now he was looking at you, smoking the cigarette between his fingers without understanding what you meant. “I’m feeling better, you can go.”
“Okay.” He directed his body directly towards you. Unintentionally intimidating. “Do you want me to go?”
His presence made you anxious.
“Yes. But if I’m honest, I don’t really want to be alone right now.” He hums. “But I have seven siblings, and all of them are downstairs right now. I can call any of them.”
“They will scold you for not saying anything and me for not seeking help.”
“I know.” He looked at you, quietly. “I just don’t want to... keep you here. Have some fun.”
He shook his head, looking away.
“It’s okay. I was here first, drinking. Then you came. You scared me.”
You blink a few times. “You’ve spent all the night in here?”
“Most of it.” You followed his eyes down on the first floor, full of people. You could see everything from there. If you focused on one person, you could easily track them. “Enough to watch you dance and get drunk.”
“Creep.” He smiles a little.
“That’s why I wasn’t sure it was you. I went to get my whiskey, and I swear I saw you two minutes before taking a shot of tequila. I thought you were just drunk.”
You frowned, settling into the couch. You felt genuinely bad.
“Now I’m scared. For real.”
“Not intentional. I can literally watch my brother kiss Eun from here every five minutes, even if I don’t want to.” Yoongi plays with his ice, then drinks the rest in one go.
You gulped.
Thinking about it more was counterproductive for your mental health, you knew it, you understood it, it was practically self-sabotage, but right now, you gave yourself perhaps ten seconds to admire the beauty that Min Yoongi carried all by himself.
He looked so different, and everything that had changed elevated his beauty to places... god. You had met at a very young age too, in years, you could also say that you had changed enough to be mentioned at some point by a family member who hadn't seen you in a while, for example. You are an adult now, but it was impressive.
To think that you stopped seeing Yoongi right when he was being built into an idol says a lot. Everything about him looked expensive and well cared for, his soft hair, smooth skin, long eyelashes, immaculate hands, as if they were not obliged to do anything that would harm them. How his throat moved as the drink passed into his system, the lack of reaction of his features despite being strong, and having drunk almost half of the short glass.
The feeling that rose to your stomach made you come back, and from well-being, it turned into discomfort in your chest. He was there, he looked so attractive, and you couldn't do anything.
You couldn’t hug him, tell him how much you missed him and hit him nonstop because even when you’re still so into him, you were hurt too, and this situation was so out of your hands.
“I’d liked your speech. It was good.”
You wanted to tell him that you hadn't done it alone, but why would you do that? You didn't answer.
“You’re still writing?”
This time, you denied it almost instinctively. The truth is, you didn't want to give additional information to, in a way, a stranger, but you had already screwed up. “No. A long time ago I-“ stopped when you left, but of course you kept quiet.
When it was about Yoongi and whether you thought about the young you who loved that person in front of you so much and how dependent you were on someone who didn't care how you felt, it made you feel so stupid. And it didn't really make sense because you were young and inexperienced, and you had an important bond, so of course you will be hurt, you had more compassion than resentment. But still,
“-just don’t do it anymore.”
You didn't want to feel that weak again. He nodded.
“Why haven't you left if you don't want to be here?” You changed the topic. You weren't looking at him, but you felt his attention return to you, and he responded with his silence, then you looked up, and he avoided you again. “You're still not a party guy?” He didn't respond again, knowing that you knew the answer, so you smiled. “Yeah, you weren't either back then.” You say that just for yourself.
“I want to, though. Hyung it’s happy, and I haven't seen my family in a long time. My dad told me he was waiting for my wedding too. I stayed so maybe the event convinced me.”
“Your dad?” He nodded in disbelief as well. “That doesn’t sound like your dad. And also, the event?” A snort left your mouth as he looked at you, nodding. “ I don’t think it’s just about the event, you know?”
“Yeah. He told me that too.”
You laughed this time. You like that men.
“That doesn’t sound like him either.”
“I know.”
You missed Yoongi’s parents. They were so different from yours.
“You were, I remember.”
“What.”
“A party person. I always went with you and watched you dance because I didn't like it. Then we would leave late and buy ice cream at the convenience store downtown because you always craved some.” You nodded, trying to manage the pain that the memory caused you. “I've never seen you cry in one before.”
You played with the ice that was left, because the question was not directly a question, it was more of a mention, perhaps so as not to ignore what just happened. He knew you wouldn't answer and that you shouldn't either. You wrinkled your nose, uncomfortable.
“Where do you learn all of it?”
Containment, you meant.
“Hm.” He took a second. “These ten years have been interesting.” A laugh, and you try your best again. “I saw a member of our staff do it to Jungkook once, the first time. We were very young, but I’ve never forgotten it in case it happened again. It happened a couple of times after that, so I… know.”
And it's as if the anguish you had come back to you once you touched where his hands were for the first time in 10 years, and you had to close your eyes just because you felt upset. You didn't want to be there, you remembered. Not only because you didn't want to see him, but because you didn't feel well, and you put him over your emotions again.
Fucking hell.
“Your brother it’s looking for you.” You nodded, opening your eyes slightly.
“Of course he is…” you murmured, overwhelmed, trying to stand up. But you were feeling bad again, so you waited a little.
“Do you want me to-“
“No.”
You didn't know why you were so angry all of a sudden. Your heart was beating again, you started to feel warm even though the place was quite cold because of how big it was, and you were actually grateful that they cared about you, but you had spent all those months feeling like a burden to others.
You tried not to cause too many problems, you didn't want that kind of attention, especially after having been living alone, away from your family for so long, to live with them again. You went from making your own food to your mother having to sit next to you so you could eat something. From leaving early to work to not even knowing what time it was. From calling them to tell them good things, to having to pretend to sleep so as not to receive questions you didn't want to answer. You couldn't take care of yourself, it was something that you were having a hard time facing, because you wanted to do it, to be well so as not to be the burden of your family, but the pain you had was still just as big, and heavy, and it enveloped your entire chest. Squeezing. It didn't let you swallow, speak, cry, or breathe.
You were crying again. This time in silence, you didn't care that Yoongi was watching you in silence too, not knowing what to do.
"Where's the… dump thing you bought.”
He reacted a little slowly but quickly, searching for it, taking it out of his jacket pocket. You nodded.
“Can you clean my face, please? I don’t want to look like this when he finds me, and he will if I go to the bathroom right now.”
That one seemed to get him out of somewhere, because it did take him longer to process the information. He was standing with the towels in his hand and blinking, almost like a cat, a confused one. He didn't say anything, and you didn't think you had said anything wrong, so you got scared, and you wondered if maybe you, in fact, said something wrong.
“I can try, though. You don’t-“
“I’ll do it.”
He sits on the coffee table in front of you. You can smell his strong and manly cologne, and if you raised your eyes to his face enough, you could see him up close, closer than you had for many years again. Older, smelling that way, his marked features but you didn't. Of course not.
You close your eyes.
The two of you were silent, and it took you a few minutes to begin to feel the softness with which he ran over your face, the left side of your cheek, extremely light, almost afraid to touch you. You opened your eyes, and he wasn't looking where he was supposed to clean.
He looked at your face, carefully, perhaps making sure it was really you who was in front of him. He stopped his hand when your eyes connected, and it lasted only a few seconds, but you felt so much tension that you even doubted if it was wrong for you to pretend as if you didn't have things to talk about, before having any kind of contact. Whatever it was.
After that, he looked at you with pity.
The last one that night, you decide.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
You were stronger than him when it came to holding a gaze. He has always been the first to escape, which is why your gaze was very intense, heavy, and powerful. You could do it because you felt it was the most honest way to know if someone could handle you.
“Sorry.”
Yoongi had never been able to look at you for more than five seconds.
He resumed his work with the same smoothness. The music returned to your ears, and you returned to your place, to your life, to the now and to how your body was screaming to get out of there. You closed your eyes, chest tight and hands tense, trying to control their shaking.
You have bigger things to cry about right now than this. You had done it for a long time now; you had no more tears to cry for Min Yoongi, no reason to be nervous anymore, and no reason why you couldn't live in peace anymore.
“I’m sorry about Kija.” His voice was smooth, almost lullaby. He sounds nervous too, and just because of that, your response was also automatic. If it had been genuine, you would have had another panic attack right there.
“It’s okay.”
‘You are grieving. Don't expect anything better. Let us help you’
They were all grieving too.
“And I’m sorry I wasn’t- I didn’t know.”
There. Was there when you wanted to scream and punch him so hard enough to make him feel guilty.
“What do you mean.” To be honest, it doesn't even surprise you. You sensed it, but you had the small hope that he saw it… at least. “I texted you. Jae- he give me your number. I was waiting for you at his funeral.”
“Y/N…”
“It’s okay.”
You said instead. Yoongi looked terrified.
“I-“ he cut himself. “…was-“
You take his hand softly, stopping him. “It’s okay, Yoongi.”
“Wait.” One of his hands is on your wrist, preventing you from getting up. You didn't feel good, but you would do anything to get out of there. Still, you sat back down because you didn’t expect it.
“I’m sorry.”
Three.
The only thing you could hear was your heart beating; everything went quiet, and the words went away, an echo.
“It’s” You were far enough away to miss his scent or to see his new appearance. It was as if he disappeared into the darkness. “okay.”
And it was okay, not because that was exactly how it was, but because it didn't matter. It was okay because it didn't matter if he responded or not, he didn't have to. You were the one who was doing wrong by continuing to trust someone who had already failed you many times, and now you were choosing not to fall for anything sure.
It was okay, because there was no important bond that bonded you two, and allowed you to do bad things where there was nothing good to destroy.
And it was okay, because you simply didn't want to continue having him in front of you, talking about one of the most important people in your life, and seeing how he looked at you with pity. So it was okay.
But Yoongi had said sorry three times that day, and he hadn't been able to genuinely fix any of them.
—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________
teaser masterlist two
—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________
#yoongi au#yoongi fic#bts fic#yoongi smut#yoongi x you#yoongi fanfic#yoongi angst#bts headcanons#bts yoongi#yoongi x reader#bts x reader#yoongi series#min yoongi#slow burn
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fail-safe (2)
pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 8k
glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.
alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]
notes: i am So sorry for this .
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist
FIVE YEARS LATER
The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.
Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.
Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.
Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.
“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.
He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.
It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.
He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.
Neither could you.
Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.
Yoongi’s home.
Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.
Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.
.
.
.
Enduring is different than working.
You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.
You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.
There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.
Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.
In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.
The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.
It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.
Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.
Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.
Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.
“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”
“Yeah. Just us.”
Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.
Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.
In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.
In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.
Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.
He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.
His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.
Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.
The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.
In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.
“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.
“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”
“I’m not immature, you asshole!”
“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”
“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”
“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”
In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.
You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.
When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.
You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.
“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”
“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”
.
.
.
You’re numb if that’s the word for it.
Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.
Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.
Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.
You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.
Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.
“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.
Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.
“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.
He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.
“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.
Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.
You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.
To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.
The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.
You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.
Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.
“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.
“No, Joon. You give it.”
“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.
“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.
“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”
You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.
Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.
Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.
“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.
Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.
“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.
“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.
“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”
The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”
“This is not about the bug spray!”
“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”
Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.
“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”
You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.
“Don’t call me that.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.
He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.
You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.
You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.
Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.
It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.
“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.
“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.
“There. Just how you like them.”
There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.
Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.
( ♡ )
If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.
You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.
Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.
You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you’ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.
You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.
You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.
You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.
“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.
Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.
Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.
“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.
“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”
“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”
“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.
Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”
Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.
“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”
“You can stop telling me these things now.”
Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.
“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”
( ♡ )
Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.
You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.
For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.
He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.
Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.
You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.
“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”
You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.
Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.
Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.
“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”
“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.
“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.
“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.
“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.
Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”
A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.
“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.
“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.
The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.
“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.
Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.
“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.
(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)
You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.
In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.
You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.
“Okay.”
Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.
( ♡ )
A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.
You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.
When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.
And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.
Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.
If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.
The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.
“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.
You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.
“Abibas.”
Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.
“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”
Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.
Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.
The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.
“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.
“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.
“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”
You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.
“I never said that!”
You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.
“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.
“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.
Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.
“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.
“And you know, play for Korea.”
“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.
( ♡ )
On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.
The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.
You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.
“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.
You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”
“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”
“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”
“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.
“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.
“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”
“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.
Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”
Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.
Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.
You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.
In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.
“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.
Yoongi only hums.
“I know.”
( ♡ )
You’re falling back into your old routine.
Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.
Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.
It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.
You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.
Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.
“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.
“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.
You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.
“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.
“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.
“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”
You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.
It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.
Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.
Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.
Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.
#target audience im on my knees IM SO SO SORRY HOW R U FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine#yoongi oneshot#yoongi oneshots#yoongi series#yoongi angst#yoongi angst imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi au#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi scenario#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x you#bts yoongi imagine#bts yoongi x reader
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silver lining; myg
pairing: min yoongi x afab!reader
established relationship!au; marriage!au; pregnancy!au
rating: fluff, smut, angst;
wc: 7,4 k
MINORS DNI!
TW: language; mentions of infertility; conceiving difficulty; mature contents; explicit sexual scene [but like sweet lovemaking]: piv, unprotected sex & cream🥧 (for a purpose), car seggs; heavy themes such as: mentions of an unplanned pregnancy, mentions of a miscarriage, mentions of abortion; Yoongi being so soft it breaks my poor little heart; mentions of a pregnancy scare; mentions of a teenage pregnancy; (please let me know if I forgot something)
Disclaimer: all of my works are entirely fictional and do not represent the characters involved in any way, I just write my fics for fun.
There are a few Korean words in this fic, such as: jagiya, which is a gender-neutral pet name; appa, which means “dad”; eomma, which means “mom”; jal ja, which means “good night”.
Please keep in mind that English is not my first language, therefore feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes or typos!
☔︎
“He’s so pretty…”, you murmur, holding little Jisung, Taehyung’s son, in your arms, gently rocking him, watching as his little eyes peacefully close as he falls asleep. “I want one…”, you whisper, gently caressing the baby’s soft hair.
“I know you do, jagiya.”, Yoongi wraps his arm around your shoulder, gently pulling you close, careful not to wake the baby up. He places a soft kiss on your temple, as his hand caresses the skin of your bare shoulder. “I want one, too.”
You and Yoongi’ve been trying to get pregnant for years now. You’d started trying before he even proposed to you, and now you’ve been married for over two years and still nothing. It crushes Yoongi’s heart knowing that he still hasn’t been able to give you the thing you want the most: a family.
“I think I’d be a great mom.”, he hears you sniffle, but you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re looking at the baby in your arms, carefully wrapped in a sage green blanket, with a little pacifier with a bunny on it in his little mouth.
“You will be the best mom in the world, jagiya.”, he places another kiss on your head, and he lingers a bit. “We just have to wait a little longer.”, he wants to reassure you that everything’s gonna be okay, that you’ll have the family you dream of, that you’ll finally welcome a child to the world, but he can’t. He can’t make a promise he’s not sure he can keep.
“I love you so much, Yoongi.”, you whisper, leaning in to kiss him on the lips, but you’re interrupted by Jisung’s stirring, right before he bursts into a loud cry, and Taehyung immediately rushes towards to you, ready to pick his baby up and soothe him.
☔︎
The sensation of Yoongi’s delicate, long fingers brushing against your soft skin is familiar to you, but it makes you shiver nonetheless. He caresses your breasts as he places a series of wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck and collar bone, squeezing one of your nipples between his index and thumb, earning a muffled moan from you in response.
His hand sluggishly moves all over your waist and pelvis, until you feel him place his thumb on your clit, as he keeps thrusting in and out of you at an excruciatingly slow pace, repeatedly brushing over your g-spot with the tip of his dick. He starts moving it in a circular motion, and you let out a timid moan, which only encourages him to repeat the action again and again, until you’re a whimpering mess under him.
“‘m about to cum, jagi…”, he groans in your ear.
“Me too…”, you pant, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with Yoongi kissing your neck and working your clit at the same time. “Please don’t stop.”, you whimper, encouraging him to go faster.
“I love you so much, jagi…”, he lets out a groan as soon as he feels you clench around him, and he finally cums inside you, before collapsing on your naked body, sweaty and exhausted. You run your hand though his soft, black hair, then place a tender kiss on his head resting on your bare chest. “I love you too, so much. So, so much, Yoongi…”
He notices that something’s off, by the way you shift uncomfortably under him and by the way your hand, the one that was caressing his hair, stops moving. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, though, and simply lifts up and retrieves his body from between your thighs, before heading to the bathroom to grab you a towel to clean yourself from his cum, that’s slowly dripping out of you.
Once he lays down next to you, in the darkness of your bedroom, and hugs your body close to his from behind, you can’t help but let a few tears slip from your eyes. You hope he doesn’t hear your muffled sniffles, but he does. He does, and tears well up in his eyes too, because he knows the exact reason why you’re crying and it kills him that he can’t take your pain away.
He places soft, delicate kisses on your bare shoulder, but suddenly stops when you call his name. “Yoongi…”, your voice trembles as you fight back the tears. “Why don’t we just…”, you take a deep breath, not sure you even want to say it out loud. “Why don’t we just stop trying?”
Yoongi feels as if his heart just stopped beating once he hears those words come out of your mouth. What is he supposed to say? He knows he can’t make the situation any better, but it hurts him too, he just wishes you knew that. It hurts his heart the way he sees you crying on the bathroom floor with a pregnancy test in your hands, negative every damn time; he was heartbroken too when Taehyung’d given him and his friends the news that he was soon going to become a father.
“Jagi…”, he intertwines his fingers with yours, his voice trembles as his lower lip quivers, signaling he’s about to cry, too. “Are you sure? Do you… do you want to give up?”
You bite your lower lip so hard you can almost taste blood in your mouth. The thought of giving up on having a family with the love of your life makes you feel weak, but at the same time, it’s just too much for you to handle right now. You and Yoongi have been together for many years, you’d started dating when you were in high school, and the moment you met him, you instantly knew he was the one.
You’ve always wanted to become a mother someday. As for Yoongi, he never knew how much he wanted to become a husband and a father until the day he met you. You were both really, really young to even think about having kids or getting married, but it was nice to know that you were on the same page, at least.
When you decided to finally start trying for a baby, you were twenty-three and he was twenty-four. Luckily, both you and Yoongi had already graduated and had stable and well payed jobs, plus you were already living together, so a baby would fit just perfect.
But now, after nearly three years of trying… you’ve almost lost hope.
“I just don’t want to go through all this anymore… the hope I feel every time my period’s late and how it gets crushed the moment I take a pregnancy test and only one damn line shows up…”, you sigh, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you feel Yoongi’s body stiffen behind yours. “I don’t want to feel that kind of pain anymore, Yoongi, it breaks my heart.”
You feel something wet on your shoulder, and that’s how you realize that Yoongi’s crying as well. “Jagi…”, he murmurs, holding you even tighter than he already was. “I’m so sorry, jagiya, so, so sorry…”, he manages to say between sobs, “I want to give you the family we’ve been dreaming of, I want to give you the world…”
You try to turn your body so that you’re now facing him, but struggle a bit, since Yoongi’s holding you a bit too tight, but you somehow manage to do so. When you meet his eyes, you notice his cheeks are flooded with tears, his nose is a bit runny. You cup his face in your hands, brushing away a couple of dark locks from his eyes, then you place a soft, chaste kiss on his plump lips.
“I love you so much, Yoongi…”, you kiss him again, wiping away some tears from his face. “You make me the happiest, it’s just… it gets too much sometimes, I feel like maybe we should take a break from trying, maybe we’re just stressing too much about it.”
He just nods with his head, and this time it’s him who kisses you softly. “Anything for you, jagiya.”
☔︎
Yoongi feels his legs shake and his head starts to spin as soon as he processes his friend’s words. “What?”, he blinks a few times, speechless, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe, he misheard what Taehyung had said.
“Yup, Jihyeon’s pregnant. A couple of months already.”, his friends repeats himself, with a big smile on his face. “Jisung’s gonna be a big brother.”
Again?, Yoongi thinks, immediately feeling bad afterwards, but he really can’t help it. Little Jisung’s only, like, nine months old and Taehyung’s girlfriend’s already pregnant again?
He gulps hard, as he feels his palms become sweaty, and his thoughts go immediately to you. Yoongi knows that, if Taehyung’d decided to tell him and the boys the happy news, then his girlfriend Jihyeon probably told you and the other girlfriends already. Shit, he thinks, you’re probably going to be devastated.
You’d decided to take a break from trying, yes, but Yoongi knows you like the back of his hands by now, and he knows that you’re probably breaking down inside. He wonders whether he should text you just to check up on you and see how you were doing, but he then decides not to, just in case Jihyeon didn’t tell you anything about the pregnancy.
But she did. She announced her second pregnancy with the brightest smile you’d ever seen on her face, practically shoving her ultrasounds to you and the other girls’ faces. The other girlfriends are all happily cheering and smiling and laughing and you can’t take it anymore. You feel like you’re the worst friend ever, but you really have to force yourself to smile, because it’s just too underwhelming.
“I didn’t know you and Taehyung were trying again.”, Chaerin, Namjoon’s girlfriend, says to Jihyeon, wiggling her eyebrows and playfully elbowing her on the arm.
“We weren’t.”, Jihyeon confesses, blushing a little, and your stomach drops, as your legs begin to shake. “We hadn’t been exactly… careful, so when my period was late we knew there might be a chance, you know?”
You can’t believe it, and you can’t help but feeling a bit angry. You and Yoongi’ve been literally trying for years, and the moment Jihyeon and Taehyung have unprotected sex once she gets pregnant with her second child? This must be one of God’s sick jokes, because seriously, what the fuck?
When Yoongi comes home later that night, he finds you laying on your bed, still with your clothes on, and he can hear your sobs even from the doorstep, and his heart crashes into a million pieces, because he knows. He knows the reason why you’re so sad, and the worst thing is he can’t do anything to make the situation any better. He can’t take your pain away, as much as he wants to.
“Jagiya…”, he murmurs, sitting on the bed next to you. He places his soft hand on your cheek, caressing it with his long fingers, as he feels your hot tears on his skin.
“I… Jihyeon’s…”, you can’t even get the words out of your mouth.
“I know.”, Yoongi interrupts you, and you’re thankful for that, because even saying it out loud makes your heart ache even more. “I know, jagi, I know… I’m so sorry.”, he whispers, placing a warm kiss on your forehead.
“It was unplanned.”, you manage to say, taking a deep breath. “Why us, Yoongi? Why?”, your voice trembles. “We’ve been trying for years after… after…”, you can’t say it out loud, it hurts too much.
And Yoongi knows, because as you speak those words he gulps and closes his eyes, letting the pain sink in at the thought of your miscarriage. His mind goes back to when the doctor told you that your baby didn’t make it, and it hurts him just like that day.
You and Yoongi had decided not to tell anyone about your pregnancy. You’d just found out, plus it was too early to be announcing it to all of your friends and family, and you wanted to keep it just for yourselves for a little while. Until that morning, when you woke up to an unusual pain in your lower abdomen and an unexpected red stain on both your pajamas and bedsheets. And you just knew.
Yoongi didn’t cry then, nor in your gynecologist’s studio when she confirmed your suspicions, because he knew he had to be strong for you, even though it was killing him. He cried in the shower though, when he was alone, where his tears got mixed up with the hot water drops falling on his face, hoping that it’ll somehow erase all the pain he was feeling. It didn’t. He didn’t feel any better, he doesn’t feel any better, he just learned how to live with the weight, instead of being crushed by it.
“I don’t know, jagiya…”, he lets out an hopeless sigh, fighting back his own tears.
“It’s so unfair.”, you snap, not angry at Yoongi, but at your fate. “I want to be a mom, I want it so bad. And then she mentioned she thought about having an abortion, because the thought of having another kid so soon scared her, and I was dying inside.”, you sit up on the mattress, wiping away the dried tears on your face with the hem of your green sweater.
“Yeah, Taehyung told me about it.”, he sighs, letting himself fall on the mattress on his bed, covering his tired face with both of his long, tapered hands. “But it’s not their fault. I mean, they don’t know about our… issue. It doesn’t make me feel better, though.”
“Jihyeon probably hates me.”, you mumble, and Yoongi removes his hands from his face to look at you with a confused look on his face. “I didn’t even want to see the ultrasounds. I just sat there, smiling awkwardly.”
“Taehyung probably hates me, too, then.”, Yoongi comments, as he gets up and starts undressing only to change into his pajamas. “Didn’t wanna see them either. I was the only one.”, he says, unzipping his jeans, as you stare at his half-naked body, because he looks just so gorgeous. “I know it shouldn’t bother me because, as I said before, it’s not their fault, but it’s just so hard to pretend you’re happy when you’re actually not.”, you nod, watching him slip into his pajama pants, the ones you’d bought him last Christmas. “I mean, of course I’m happy for him-“
“I get it.”, you interrupt him. “I feel that way too. I thought that I was just being selfish, though, and I feel so guilty.”, you stand up too, removing your sweater to change into one of Yoongi’s t-shirts, one of your favorite to sleep in.
You lay next to each other, body entangled in the soft cotton sheets, but with your eyes wide open, staring at the white ceiling. Yoongi’s fingers are intertwined with yours, but neither of you dares too speak, too absorbed in your thoughts. You just lay there, wide awake, in complete silence.
“Yoongi?”, you break the silence, but you don’t turn to look at him, too scared that the eye-contact might stop you from asking him what’s on your mind. “Would you still love me? If I couldn’t have kids, I mean… Would you still wanna be with me?”, your voice quivers as you speak the last few words.
“Jagiya.”, Yoongi sounds almost as if he’s scolding you. Little does he know that it’s your worst nightmare. You’re so scared that he’ll leave you if he finds out that you can’t give him the family he wants, that you won’t be carrying his children, that he’ll just leave you for another woman, one who can and will give him what you can’t. “I’ll love you no matter what. Forever. That’s what we promised to each other at the altar, and I do not intend to break that promise.”, his tone is serious, as if he’s almost offended by your question. “You’re the love of my life, jagiya.”
He hears you sniffle, and then he feels your body shift, until you hid your face in the crook of his neck, as he envelopes your body with his muscular arms, caressing your back to soothe you. “What if it’s me?”, he murmurs, his voice is so quiet you almost don’t catch what he says.
“What if it’s you what?”
He gulps hard, his eyes become watery. “What if I can’t give you kids? What if I am the problem?”, you feel something wet fall on your hair, and that’s how you realize that he’s crying. “What if…”, he chokes, “What if you wake up one day and realize that you’re just wasting your time with me? That you could have everything you ever wanted with another man?”
You lift your body to meet Yoongi’s eyes, before placing your cold hand on his cheek, making him shiver at the sudden feeling. “Yoongi…”, you brush the tip of your nose against his, “You’re all I ever wanted.”
☔︎
“Oh my God, we’re… the worst babysitters ever.”, you say between moans, as you sink down on Yoongi’s lap once more, allowing him to go even deeper.
You don’t know exactly how you and Yoongi ended up having sex in the backseats of his car, parked right in the path that runs along Taehyung and Jihyeon’s backyard. Thankfully, it’s dark outside and there’s no one around, otherwise you’d be screwed. Taehyung and Jihyeon had asked you and Yoongi to babysit little Jisung for the night so that they could enjoy some time for themselves.
You were right about to open the car door and ring the bell, when Yoongi pulled you in for what was, in the beginning, a peck on the lips. It then turned into a heavy make out session, and now you’re on his lap, legs spread wide, his veiny hands squeezing your thighs in such an erotic way it makes you shiver.
“Relax, jagi, we still got time. About ten minutes.”, he pants, eyes closed, as he bites his lower lip, focusing on how wet and soft you feel around him. “But I don’t know if I can last that long.”, he chuckles.
You let out a high pitched moan when he moves one of his hands from your thighs and places it on your exposed breasts, cupping one of your boobs, slightly pinching your nipple with his thumb and index, and you see him playfully smirk at you. “You’re so hot like this, jagiya.”, he grunts, snapping his hips up so that the tip of his dick roughly brushes against your g-spot, making you yelp once again. “I almost forgot how you feel around me.” he moans as he watches you bounce on top of him.
You and Yoongi didn’t have sex at all the past month and a half. Sure, you did other things, such as foreplay or occasional dry humping, but ever since you’d suggested a break from… trying, you haven’t gone all the way until tonight, when you both gave in to lust like a couple of horny teenagers.
“I’m gonna cum, jagi, are you close?”, Yoongi pants, his black hair is stuck on his sweaty face and it’s the hottest sight you’ve ever witnessed.
You nod, “Yes, so close.” Yoongi moves his other hand so that his thumb would brush against your clit, but you stop him before he can touch your sensitive spot. “No, I-“, you gasp for air, “I think I can cum just like this.”
Yoongi growls at the sound of your words, as he grips your hips, squeezing the flesh tight. “Fuck, you’re so hot. I’ve missed this so much, jagi, please cum on my dick, I’m so close.” As soon as he feels you clench and tighten around him, he squeezes his eyes shut, cussing under his breath. “Fuck, jagi, I’m close.”, he pants, “Lift yourself up, I’m about to cum.”, he bites his lip, gesturing for you to lift your body from his lap in case you didn’t want him to finish inside you. Instead, you pushed your body down, sinking onto him even more, so that his length fills you up completely. “Fuck, I’m-“, he’s cut off mid sentence by his breathtaking orgasm.
You stay there, in the backseats, you on top of Yoongi, both of you desperately trying to catch your breaths. Your arms are around his body, and you rest your head on his chest, as he runs a hand though your long hair. You feel his cum slowly drip out of you as he softens inside you, good thing you always carry wet wipes in your bag wherever you go, otherwise you’d be screwed.
“Get up, jagiya, we have to go now.”, Yoongi whispers in your ear. You hum in protest, but get up anyway, because you have a baby to babysit, otherwise you’d stay here with him, cuddled up to his chest, as he holds you tight.
“I’m sorry…”, he mumbles, as he zips his jeans and fixes his hair, and you look at him confused. “Because I…, you know, came inside.”, he gestures, visibly embarrassed, his cheeks blushing a little. He’s so cute.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Well, since you said you wanted to take a break from trying…”, he trails, but you get the point. “I wasn’t expecting… that,” he goes on “otherwise I’d have brought condoms or just, you know, finished somewhere else.”, he sounds guilty, and you hate that.
“Yoongi, love, it’s okay. I wanted it, I liked it.”, you reassure him “The whole taking-a-break thing was just because it was just too much to handle back then. I just needed some time. It’s okay, I promise.”, you kiss him on the lips, hoping that it’ll wash away all the guilt he’s feeling, and somehow it does.
“I love you.”, he places a soft peck on your lips.
“I love you too.”, you giggle, brushing your nose against his, “Now let’s go, Min Yoongi, we got a baby to babysit.”
Kim Jisung is an utterly adorable baby. He’s got the prettiest little eyes, and the softest gummy cheeks you ever squished, plus he’s always super calm and quiet, you barely heard him cry since he was born, except for when he was hungry. Taehyung’s always manifested his love for kids, and it really was no surprise to you all when he and his girlfriend announced the pregnancy after just a couple of years of dating, since he always rambled on and on and on about wanting to be a father while he was still in his twenties -technically, he wasn’t even twenty-five when his girlfriend gave birth to Jisung, but whatever.
Jisung sleeps quietly, as you and Yoongi watch him squeeze his favorite plushie in his tiny, adorable hands, and you can’t help but let out a sigh, that has Yoongi to quickly pull you into a hug from behind. “He’s just too cute.”, you smile at the precious baby boy, and you hear Yoongi hum in agreement. “He grew up so fast, though. It feels like yesterday when Taehyung called us, saying that Jihyeon was in labor.”
“Babies do grow up fast.”, he agrees with you. It’s kinda sad, though, isn’t it?”, Yoongi squeezes you tighter, eyes locked on sleeping Jisung. “They’re so cute, wish they could stay like this forever.”, he speaks as if he’s daydreaming -and he is.
“Bet you won’t be saying that when you’ll have to change, like, a million diapers per day.”, you and Yoongi jump at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. You’ve been too caught up in the moment to notice the rattling of the keys and the door opening. “But he is cute, I’ll give you that.”, he chuckles, placing the keys on the table, before helping Jihyeon, his fiancée, take off her coat. Her baby bump is showing already, and you wince at the sight, biting you cheek.
Taehyung immediately goes to the crib where his baby is peacefully asleep, and caresses Jisung’s puffy cheeks with his fingers. Little Jisung stirs at the feeling of his father. “Hi buddy, I’m back.”, he whispers to his son, completely and utterly in love.
“Tae, don’t wake him up.”, Jihyeon scolds him, getting closer to the crib as well, but watching her son from afar, not wanting to disturb his sleep any more.
“But I missed him.”, Taehyung pouts, unable to keep his hands off his son. “It’s so hard to stay away from him.”
“Did Jisung give you a hard time?”, Jihyeon smiles at you and Yoongi as she sits on the couch, caressing her belly.
You and Yoongi both shake your heads no. “No, he’s an angel. He’s so cute.”, your heart aches a bit at the thought of having to leave him soon.
“I wonder if baby number two is going to be so calm and peaceful, too.”, Jihyeon giggles, her hand still on her baby bump.
You wonder how it feels, to have a life growing inside of you. You haven’t got to experience that yet, and when your miscarriage happened you were only four weeks pregnant, and there had been no significant changes in your body.
“Sorry if we ruined your plans for the evening by asking you to babysit Jisung.”, Taehyung says, picking up his sleeping baby from the crib, before holding him closer to his body as little Jisung nuzzles into his chest, still not letting go of his plushie. “We didn’t know who else to ask.”, he kisses his son on the head. “Seokjin and Namjoon are out of town celebrating their hundredth anniversary or whatever, and Jungkook… well, I don’t trust him with my baby yet. He’s still a baby, for God’s sake.”, Taehyung jokes, making both you and Yoongi laugh.
“It was our pleasure.”, you reassure him. “We love Jisung, we had so much fun.”, there’s sadness in both your voice and your smile, Yoongi can feel it.
“Are you sure? Thought you might wanted to be alone.”, Jihyeon insists, but you shake your head once more.
“It’s fine, really. We really do enjoy spending time around Jisung. Plus Yoongi and I are alone 99% of the time anyway…”
Jihyeon and Taehyung quickly look at each other before looking away. Jihyeon clears her throat, “We just thought you were uncomfortable around babies?”, her voice comes out more like a question.
You and Yoongi both gulp hard, visibly taken aback. You are definitely not ready for this conversation. You and Jihyeon are close, yes, but you have always been the type of person to keep her personal stuff… well, private. You don’t like to share too much about your life, especially when it’s about sensitive topics like this.
Literally no one knows that you and Yoongi’ve been trying to have a baby. He’s close to Taehyung, he’s one of his best friends, but it’s not like they talk about these kind of things.
“We’re not.”, Yoongi simply says, hoping that it’d change the topic. His words are followed by and awkward, unbearable silence, until he clears his throat before he speaks again, “It’s getting pretty late, we’ve got plans for lunch so we have to be up early, we better get off.”
☔︎
You feel like you could faint right there on the spot when Jungkook’s new girlfriend, who just turned nineteen, confesses to you that she’s late. Late late. Like, her period’s late. A couple of weeks, actually. She stares at you with her big, doe eyes, and she looks like she’s about to burst into tears. Thankfully, Jungkook’s in the other room with Yoongi and the rest of your friends, and you and her, Nara, are completely alone.
“Have you…”, you clear your throat, clearly uncomfortable in this situation. Why did she decide to come to you? Sure, you and her are pretty close, and you almost look after as if you’re her big sister, but damn, that was quite straightforward. “Have you and Jungkook had unprotected sex?”, you ask, but deep down you already know the answer, otherwise she wouldn’t be in panic.
She bites her lower lip, guilty, as she nods. “Yeah, but only a couple of times. We didn’t have any condoms and were too caught up in the moment to think straight. He didn’t finish inside, though.”, she tries to find a silver lining, but you know that it could’ve been enough. She could be pregnant.
“You have to take a test.”, you tell her. “It could mean nothing though, my period’s late all the time, I should have had it three weeks ago” you shrug “But, you could also be pregnant. You have to take a test.”, you repeat.
The thought of Nara being pregnant too makes you feel sick. It’s as if everybody else is living your dream and you are just… watching.
“But please,” you sigh “don’t have unprotected sex again if you’re not ready for the consequences.” She nods in silence, knowing that you are right. You’re not really scolding her, you’re just looking out for her. Nara is young, too young to understand all the challenges that a teen pregnancy brings, and you wouldn’t want that for her. Especially because Jungkook and her’ve just started dating.
“Unnie?”, she asks after a couple of minutes of complete silence. “You said your period is late, too.”, she starts explaining herself. “I actually bought two pregnancy test, just in case. Why don’t we take them together? You said you’re late, too. It’d help me release some tension.”, she pulls out two pregnancy tests from her bag.
☔︎
You can’t believe you’re actually peeing on a stick right now. You don’t even remember the last time you took a test, and surely you weren’t expecting to take one now, on a random Saturday night, while your boyfriend was just downstairs, laughing and drinking with his friends.
Nara’s already taken her test, and placed it inside the box without looking at it -which is, in fact, the whole point of a pregnancy roulette-, so you do the exact same. You open the bathroom door to get Nara in, before closing and locking it to make sure no one disturbs you.
“Should we take a look?”, she asks, panic in her voice.
You nod, before taking both boxes in your hands, ready to pull out the tests and see the results. You just know you’re not pregnant, that’s why you’re not anxious or anything. Your period is always late, and this time it’s no exception.
“I’m scared.” Nara’s voice trembles, and she sounds like she’s about to cry.
You instantly pull her into a hug, and she finally lets a couple tears slip from her hazel eyes. “It’s okay, Nara.”, you pat her back. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m here. Breathe in, then breathe out”, you instruct her, hoping it’ll help her calm down a bit. “Whatever the tests shows, you’re not alone.”
She lets out a desperate whine. “What if I’m pregnant, though? My parents don’t even know I’m dating Jungkook, how am I going to explain a baby to them? What do I tell them?”
“Nara, calm down. You don’t even know if you are pregnant. And if you are, then I’m sure you and Jungkook’ll figure it out together.”, you pull away to wipe away some tears from her face. “He likes you very much. He’s not a dick, I know he wouldn’t leave you alone if you were pregnant with his child.”
She nods, convinced by your words. “Okay.”, she swallows her own saliva. “You’re right, unnie, thank you.”
“Ready to look?”, you ask.
She nods, before taking a deep breath. And you do too, even though you know you’re not pregnant. You can’t be. “Yeah, unnie. Let’s get this over with.”
You pull out the test from the box in one swift motion, before placing them on the sink, but they somehow slip and, when you recollect them, there’s absolutely no way you can tell which one’s yours. That’s when you accidentally look at the results.
Negative.
You take a look at the other test.
It’s positive.
Fuck.
☔︎
Yoongi literally throws himself on the bed, and you glare at him because you just hate it when he sits on the bed without changing his clothes first, especially since you changed the sheets this morning. He decides to ignore the look you’re giving him, playfully pushing you, making you fall back on the mattress. “Don’t give me that look, jagiya, I had the shittiest day today, I deserve a good sleep.”, he smirks, but you frown.
“What happened?”, you get closer to his warm body, nuzzling your face into his collarbone.
“I don’t know,” he sighs “my boss stressed me a bit too much, I guess.”, he places a kiss on top of your head. But you know Yoongi like the back of your hands, and you know that something else is definitely bothering him, he’s just not the type to stress too much about work. You lift your head to look at him. “What?”, he asks, not looking into your eyes, which is something he always does when he’s trying to hide something from you.
“Tell me what you are really upset about.”, you insist.
“I already told you.”, he frowns.
“Yoongi, sometimes you seem to forget we’ve been together for almost eight years. I know you.”, you tease him by playfully tickling his side, and he squirms under your touch.
“It’s fine, jagi, it’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
He takes a deep breath. “It’s just that Jungkook told me something, and I just can’t seem to get it out of my head.” You gulp hard at the sound of his words. You know what he’s talking about, but Yoongi doesn’t know that you know.
“What is it?”, you hope he doesn’t sense the quiver in your voice, and he doesn’t. He’s too much inside his own head at the moment.
“I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stupid.”, he mumbles under his breath.
You sigh heavily. “Stop being so grumpy,” you playfully flick his head “tell me.”
“Fine.”, he gives up. He runs his hand through his hair, unsure whether he should even be telling you that. He doesn’t want to bring up the sensitive topic of pregnancy once again, but you’d find out soon anyways. “Jungkook told me Nara’s period is late.”, he blurts out, unable to look at you. “She hasn’t gone to the doctor yet, but Jungkook’s pretty positive she’s pregnant since they had unprotected sex this month.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t want to tell you, jagi, but I figured that she’s going to tell the girls and you’d find out anyways.”, he sounds guilty, and he immediately wraps his strong arms around you to comfort you.
“Why are you upset, then?”, you ask, your voice is muffled by your face being pressed against his sweater.
He lets out a long, heavy sigh, as he lets go of your body. “I don’t know, it’s just…”, his head falls back on the soft pillow under his head “The thought of Jungkook becoming a father… I don’t know, it makes me wish I was in his place.”
“You wish you’d gotten Nara pregnant?”, you joke, and he chuckles.
“You know what I meant.”, he sighs. “I really can’t believe Jungkook’s going to be a father…”, he trails, covering his face with both of his hands out of frustration.
You stay quiet for a couple of minutes, in complete silence, before you speak. “Jungkook’s not going to be a father, Yoongi.”, you take a deep breath, “You are.”
Yoongi doesn’t say a thing. In fact, he doesn’t even move, he even stops breathing for a solid five seconds, before he sits up on the mattress and whispers an almost inaudible “What?”, and you already feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes as you get up from your shared king size bed and hurry to grab your purse. You then proceed to pull out a couple of pregnancy tests and a piece of paper Yoongi’s never seen before.
“I took one of these the other night.”, you start, showing him the positive pregnancy sticks, placing them on top of the duvet cover, “It started as a joke, I really didn’t think I could actually be pregnant.”
You tell him how Nara’d talked you into taking the test, and how only one of them showed two lines. You also tell him that, the next day, you’d bought two more pregnancy tests and took them first thing in the morning just to make sure, because you never know. You weren’t really expecting two pink lines to show up, and you tell him how you almost fainted right there on the spot. You also tell him that the next day, still shook, you went to the hospital to run some beta blood tests, that confirmed what the sticks’d been telling you all along.
You are pregnant. And what shook you even more was finding out that you are eleven weeks pregnant. You had never missed your period during the past months, however you had to admit it wasn’t like the other times. There was much less blood, and it only lasted a couple of days. You didn’t think that it’d be spotting from implantation.
“I didn’t go to the gynecologist, I wanted to tell you first. I want you there with me.” You don’t even realize you’ve been crying the whole time as you were telling Yoongi the whole story of how you found out you are soon going to welcome your baby to the world.
Yoongi’s crying too. His beautiful, pale skin is soaked in tears as he sniffles and clears his runny nose with the hem of his sweater. “Jagi…”, he sobs, pulling you close for a hug. “Are you serious? Is this real? You’re not joking, are you? Please, please tell me you’re not joking.”, he chokes. He’s so scared you’ll tell him that it’s some kind of sick prank, but it is not.
It’s all true.
“It is, Yoongi. It’s real. We’re having a baby.”, you sob too, soaking his clothes with the tears that are falling from your eyes, but neither of you care. You’ve been waiting so long for this moment, and you don’t care about a damn sweater getting wet.
“Lay down, jagiya, I want to hug you and our baby.”, he wipes some more tears from his beautiful, yet teary eyes.
You nod, laying down, sinking in your soft mattress, and you soon feel Yoongi’s hands pull down your pajama pants just so that he could have better access to your, still pretty imperceptible, baby bump. You muffle your sobs in the sleeve of your sweater as you feel him place a series of light kisses on your belly, before pulling your pants back on, muttering a “That’ll keep you warm” to the baby in your tummy.
He gets up only to change into some comfortable sweats and an oversized t-shirt, before returning to bed to lay next to you under the soft, vanilla scented sheets. He hugs you from behind, his warm hand drawing imaginary shapes on your belly. “I still can’t believe it, jagi, I’m so happy…”, he whispers, placing a kiss on your hair, “I’m going to be a dad.”, you can’t see him, but you know he’s probably smiling from ear to ear.
“Yeah, you are.”, you turn your head to kiss him on the lips. “And you’ll be the best appa, Yoongi.”
He stays quiet for a while, and you think that maybe he fell asleep, when he suddenly speaks again. “Wait, you said eleven weeks?”, he sounds like he’s thinking of something. You nod. “Jagiya… isn’t that when we… you know, in the car, before Taehyung’s house?”
Your eyes widen as you remember that night. Oops. Yup, that must definitely be the night you got pregnant, since you hadn’t had sex in the previous month. Even after that one time in your car, whenever you and Yoongi had sex he’d pull out last minute until you managed to convince him that you seriously were fine with him finishing inside -which took a while, surprisingly. So yeah, that night in the car has to be the night.
“Oh my God, jagiya, I can’t believe we made our baby in the backseats of our car.”, Yoongi chuckles, and you laugh too because really, what are the odds? You’ve had unprotected sex for the last years and you get pregnant the one time you do it in your car?
“Goodnight jagiya, sleep tight.”, Yoongi pulls you closer and kisses your cheek. He then slips one hand into your pajama pants to caress your belly. “Goodnight baby, sleep tight, appa loves you so much already.”
☔︎
Yoongi’s been extra affectionate since he found out he’s going to be a dad.
He asks you how you’re feeling at least ten times per hour, and when he’s not physically there with you, he texts you. It’s not only because he’s protective of you and your baby, but also because he wants to be even more involved in your pregnancy than he already is. He wants to know every little thing that’s happening in your life: every mood swings, every craving, every time you’re feeling nauseous, he just wants to know. He needs to know.
When you went to the gynecologist to make sure you are indeed pregnant, he asked a million questions to your doctor. You believe you won’t ever forget how his eyes were glistening when the obgyn confirmed that your baby is perfectly healthy and your pregnancy’s not at risk. He’s genuinely so happy to finally be able to share all this happiness with you, the love of his life, the mother of his child.
You both agreed you’d tell the news to your friends once you entered your second trimester, just to make sure everything was fine. The day you told them, they were all so happy and congratulated the both of you.
Yoongi bursted into tears when the doctor told you you were expecting a girl. He’d been emotional for the whole day and kept his hand on your belly all the time, caressing your bump as he talked to his daughter, telling her how much he loved her already and how he couldn’t wait to meet her.
“What do you think about Unmyeong?” Yoongi asks all of a sudden.
You’re in bed, Yoongi’s arm is around you and his hand is on your belly. You’re almost at the end of your third trimester now, and you’ve definitely gotten bigger. Still, you and Yoongi haven’t chosen the perfect name for your baby girl. You both kind of want a unique name for her, a name that represents what you feel for her.
“What?”, you ask him, confused.
“Unmyeong.”, he repeats. “For our baby girl. It means destiny.”, he explains.
You stay quiet for a while. Unmyeong. The more you think about it and repeat the name over and over in your head, the more you like it. Destiny.
“I think we were destined to have her, you know?” Yoongi murmurs, nuzzling against your back. “We went through a lot to have a family. But we’re here now, our baby girl’s due date’s in a couple of weeks, and I can’t help but think it’s the destiny that gifted us with her.”
His words make tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t help but believe he’s right. You were definitely destined to have her. After almost four years of negative pregnancy tests and desperate cries, you finally got what you’ve been praying for for so long.
You turn your upper body to meet Yoongi’s eyes, and notice they’re glistening as well. “I like it. Unmyeong… I like it.”, you smile at him.
“You do?”
You nod, smiling at him. “It’s perfect. The perfect name for our perfect baby girl. Min Unmyeong.”
A couple of tears fall from Yoongi’s eyes when he hears the full name for the first time. It’s real, it’s all real, finally. You feel him move under the sheets until he rests his head on your stomach, careful not to hurt you in any way.
“Hi Min Unmyeong. This is appa.”, you can’t stop the tears from streaming down your face as well. “I can’t wait to finally meet you, baby girl. I can’t wait for the three of us to be a family. I love you so much, baby girl. Now sleep tight and let your eomma rest well. Jal ja, baby girl.”
#bts#bts fic#min yoongi x you#min yoongi fic#min yoongi#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x oc#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x oc#min yoongi fanfic#min yoongi smut#yoongi smut#bts angst#bts fluff#bts au#yoongi au#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#bts masterlist#bts one shot#yoongi oneshot
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matilda (pt. 1) | myg
summary: Loneliness had always been a constant for you, haunting you like a ghost; until your older brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi, came into your life. You both promised each other something back then - you’d always have his support and he’d always have yours. But with time and age, you weren’t sure how much that all still stood to be true.
pairing: yoongi x fem!reader
rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, slice of life, angst, fluff, eventual smut
word count: 13.6K it only gets longer from here
warnings/notes: this is based off the song matilda because i couldn’t help myself so beware of the hurt in this fic, first two chapters follow reader and yoongi throughout their lives, explicit language, unrequited love, a whole lot of pining, alcohol usage (mentions of throwing up), unsupportive/neglectful parents, mentions of loss of virginity (but nothing described/not between main pairing), yoongi and reader just want the best for each other, angst angst ANGST, this was originally posted on ao3 and i’m just now uploading it to tumblr, so bear with me i’m a mess, filter is called ethereal, but i can’t rmr the creator, so if it’s yours, pls contact me so i can give credit, i think that’s it but if i missed anything pls let me know (i wrote this a while ago and have no long term memory), ok ok hope you enjoy <3
chapter one: it’s no big deal
( next → )
WHEN YOU WERE MERELY ten years of age, you realized boys were not the bugs crawling with cooties you had made them out to be . . . all thanks to Min Yoongi. You remembered the first time you met him, keeping the fond memory safe inside your head throughout the years.
You grew up lonely. Your father was a wealthy businessman, owning his own company, which his son would surely take over when he came of age. This meant he was always away on business trips or locked inside his office while your mother tended to every one of your brother's needs, oftentimes forgetting you had your own. You didn't have many friends; most of the kids your age labeled you as a snob because of who your father was, so there was no point in trying with them.
Your brother, Kim Seokjin, however, always made sure to drag you along wherever he went like you were his very own prodigy, apprentice, assistant, whatever. He had always been your protector from day one . . . even if he kicked you out of the room every time he had his friends over. (They were playing boy games, he'd always say, but you were smart for your age. You knew boy games actually just meant looking at the special magazines your father kept hidden in his room.)
You'd grown up alone. But you were used to it. It didn't bother you. You liked to be alone when you drew in your sketchbook anyway. And you did draw every chance you got. It helped keep the loneliness at bay.
The day you met Min Yoongi had been no different.
That day, you found yourself alone yet again. Your father had locked himself in his office for the night while your mother took Seokjin to one of his basketball practices. In your lonesome, you'd turned to mindlessly draw in front of the television in the living room, while the movie Matilda played in the background. You'd spent that time etching the ideas that had consumed your young mind onto the new sketchbook you had begged your parents to buy. You'd planned to ask for paints next.
You liked being alone. You liked painting in silence. Lately, you had been finding the silence, in general, not so bad. You'd even go as far as to say you enjoyed it.
Seokjin didn't. He could never handle it. Because of this, he'd always kept busy with his many interests that seemed to grow as he aged.
While only at ten, you enjoyed days full of art and color and watching Matilda over and over again, Seokjin was stuck at twelve almost thirteen with an overactive mind and a need to fight twenty-four-seven. Granted, he was only a preteen boy, so it was a given he’d beg his parents to let him join every sport he set his mind to.
And the sport he had chosen this year: basketball. And this time your mother decided to chaperon every practice and every game . . . so that meant you would be left alone even more, given the other invasive fact that your father was far too busy to give you the time of day.
It would just be you and your drawings from now on, you supposed. You'd have to draw faces to keep you company, and that wasn't so bad. You could find friendship in the two-dimensional caricatures you'd craft. And you could like that. You had to like that.
So when your mother opened the front door with boxes of pizza juggling in her hands, warning you that Seokjin and his friends would be in any minute, it was no surprise that you were still drawing. You had nodded, not paying much attention due to the fact that your dear (you noted, sarcastically) older brother always made it a habit to invite his friends over to his house after their basketball practices. It was routine by now. A routine you hated . . . because . . . your brother’s offer to have his teammates over meant you would have to sit there in the middle of their preteen antics and body odor and endure it all. (Just another reason why you had never paid attention to boys: they all smelled. Bad.)
But that day had been different. Because when the boys from your brother’s team finally all piled in, loud and obnoxious as they made their way to the kitchen for a slice of pizza, you spotted a new face. He was shorter than most of the boys, his limbs long and skinny, but he had this expression on his round face that convinced your young, hopeless romantic mind that you had truly just seen sparks fly. Like, full-on sparks. Perhaps there were even hearts in your eyes.
You observed him for the rest of the night, and in your ten-year-old mind, you had reassured yourself that no, this was not stalking . . .
Because, no, it was not creepy for Seokjin’s little sister to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, silent and standing still as you listened to the boys talk amongst each other. And, no, it was not weird that you kept staring at the new face amongst your brother’s friends, giggling when you saw him accidentally drop a piece of pepperoni on the floor.
He had looked at you then, his attention being drawn to the sound of your small laughter. And when he had, you, being ten and well . . . not used to interacting with other people often, tried to hide from his gaze, but the boy didn’t give you a weird look like your peers normally sent your way, instead, his mouth morphed into an awkward tight-lipped smile as he hastily picked up the pepperoni from the floor and flicked it onto his plate. He then turned away and focused his attention on Seokjin, who was loudly demonstrating the shots he had made during practice.
It was clear he could still feel your eyes on him as he kept awkwardly glancing your way, shifting under your gaze. It wasn’t until the boy grabbed another paper plate, put a piece of pizza on it, and approached you that you truly realized that the boy had actually seen you staring at him.
Almost as if you had been starstruck, you stared at him, your eyes as wide as saucers as you glanced between the plate in his hands and his face.
A second later he had asked, “Did you want a slice?” His voice was small with only a hint of awkwardness hidden behind his calm tone as he held out the plate toward you.
You blinked, nodding up at him, and a second afterward, you grabbed the plate from him, your eyes never leaving his face. You noticed then that he had a small freckle on his nose, and you decided that it was your favorite thing about him.
It only took a second longer for you to convince yourself that you were going to marry him. This caused your cheeks to blaze aflame. (You’d surely write this down in your diary . . . )
But your cheeks didn’t stay burning long before your brother finally became burdened by your presence and yelled your name, "Leave Yoongi alone. You’re freaking my friends out with your weird looks.”
You blinked, slightly stunned as you kept your wide eyes on the boy—Yoongi.
“It’s OK,” Yoongi mumbled, offering a small smile. “She was just hungry.”
You grinned widely at his words.
Yoongi.
You noted his name so you wouldn’t forget it. To the diary, it would go.
However, when you heard your brother click his tongue in annoyance, you quickly snapped out of your bashful daze and groaned at your brother, stomping your foot and pointing a finger at him. “You can't kick me out this time. It's dinnertime, dingus, and I'm hungry,” you huffed. “And . . . Mom said I could join!”
Your brother gave you an irritated look. “No, mom told you to leave me alone when I have friends over,” he hissed.
“No—” you bit out— “you did!” You groaned again. "I could starve . . . because of you!"
Seokjin clicked his tongue. “OK, you have your pizza now, so go.”
“But—”
“Go away, shithead,” Seokjin whined, shooing you away.
You glared at him. "You're such a nerd."
"Nerd?" Seokjin scoffed. "How-How am I a nerd?"
"Find a mirror," you muttered as you pointed at the glasses on his face, simultaneously taking a bite of your pizza at the same time.
Seokjin gave you a pointed look. "If you leave now--" he paused to release a sigh as he rolled his eyes and continued, his voice muffled-- "we can watch Matilda later."
You smiled, complacently. “Fine.”
You turned to leave the kitchen, but not before you stuck your tongue out at your older brother. He reciprocated the action but flipped you off in the process. He, however, quickly realized what he had done, his eyes flying wide open just as a sly grin slid onto your face.
And at that, you took off running as you yelled, “Mom, Jin flipped me off!”
But as you ran away, you could have sworn you had heard a laugh fall from Yoongi. Maybe you had imagined it . . . but . . . it'd warmed your heart nevertheless.
The second time you saw Min Yoongi, it was a Tuesday. You had just returned home from school, skipping through the front door of your house with your mother close behind you. While your mother briefly told you she would be in the kitchen making dinner, you hummed in acknowledgment as you made your way to the living room, pulling out your sketchbook from your backpack and getting to work.
You hadn’t known how much time had passed before loud voices carried into the room and you felt the cushion beside you on the couch dip under the weight of someone else. Only when you glanced up did you realize sitting beside you was your brother’s friend, Yoongi.
Now, you had successfully found out a few things about the boy beside you over the past few weeks that he had become friends with your brother. While Seokjin was busy gaming, you would nag and nag and nag him to tell you more about his friend, to which Seokjin always teased you, telling you he was too old for you. You had only huffed and rolled your eyes, deciding to keep your mouth shut and deal with the information you had already gathered.
And to your diary, it all went.
Min Yoongi was his full name. He was around the same age as your brother, so about twelve, almost thirteen—around a little over one or close to two years older than you, but two grades apart due to the cut-off. He was new to the team, just recently moving to Seoul from Daegu because his father got a new job there and apparently it was paying better, so they decided to enroll Yoongi in the same school that Seokjin went to.
That also meant that he had begged his parents to let him join a local basketball team in hopes of maintaining some familiarity with his old life. And he was surprisingly good, already mastering most of the positions and slowly improving their team bit by bit. And . . . he had the prettiest eyes you had ever seen. (Although, the latter fact being one that you had added entirely on your own.)
And as he sat beside you on that couch, you realized his eyes were even prettier than you had originally noted. When he offered you a small friendly smile, you could have sworn you were going to puke a butterfly.
But the boy turned away a second later and you realized you had been staring up at him with a wide (maybe too wide) toothy grin.
You heard your brother call your name, drawing your attention.
Only then as you turned to look at your brother did you realize Yoongi was only sitting beside you because your brother and his other friend from the team, Jung Hoseok were occupying the only other couch in the living room. And then you realized why they were in there—they wanted the TV and that meant Seokjin would be nagging you to leave them be any minute.
“Nuh-uh, I was here first,” you quickly groaned out before your brother could say a word, stomping your feet on the ground.
Seokjin sighed. “We’re watching a horror movie. You’ll get scared,” he told you, his brows raised. He thought he was so much older now since his birthday would be in a few weeks, but you were older too. You’d be eleven in January. You could so watch a scary movie.
“I like scary movies,” you lied. “I watch them all the time.” Another lie.
"You still watch Matilda," Seokjin countered. "You're practically four."
You shot him a look. "I'm ten, you four-eyed freak."
While Seokjin gave you a pointed look and lifted his glasses up his nose, Hoseok gave a small laugh. You, however, glanced at Yoongi beside you, seeing he was looking at his friends, a small smile on his face.
Fortunately for you, Seokjin let you stay as he started the movie. But you immediately lowered your eyes to your sketchbook, drawing to distract yourself from the noises coming from the television. About thirty minutes in, trying to mask your fear by drawing more and more, you heard Yoongi speak . . . to you.
“That’s cool.”
You stopped and looked up at him, speechless. “What?”
“Your drawing,” Yoongi whispered, pointing at your sketchbook. “I think it’s cool. You’re . . . really good.”
You turned bashful. “Oh. Thank you.”
A scream from the television, however, made you jump, causing your eyes to squeeze shut. You opened them, slightly more embarrassed now as you avoided eye contact with the older boy. Your eyes drooped to your sketchbook a second later, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. One look from those feline-like eyes would surely make you embarrass yourself even more, and you had done enough of that tonight. But the boy didn’t let you dwell in your embarrassment for much longer before he reached behind him, grabbed a pillow, and offered it out to you.
You glanced between the pillow and Yoongi’s face.
The boy only offered a small smile. “Block the screen with it,” he began. “It helps . . . a little.”
You smiled, bashfully. “Thank you,” you mumbled as you took the pillow and rested it on your knees that were bent to your chest. And he was right. The pillow did block the screen, allowing you to rest a little easier now that you didn’t have to endure the jump scares through your peripheral.
And just when you thought your heart couldn't beat faster, Yoongi whispered to you, “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t tell your brother you’re scared as long as you don’t tell him I am too.”
You blinked.
Yoongi scrunched his nose as he held out his pinky finger, gesturing for you to solidify the promise.
And how could you oppose?
You couldn’t.
You reached for his pinky with a grin on your face, linking your pinkies together and shaking. This was your first promise, but you could tell it wouldn’t be your last.
It did not take long for you to warm up to Min Yoongi. In fact, you looked forward to every time he would come home with your brother after practice or just to randomly hang out on the weekend. You had even started to willingly go with your mother to watch your brother’s games . . . although . . . you never told any of them that you only went to see Yoongi.
So, you had a crush. So what?
You couldn’t help the heat that would creep up on your cheeks when he would come over to your house, sending a small wave your way when you'd lock eyes. Oftentimes when Seokjin’s teammates would hang out at the Kim household, they’d end up filtering to your spacious backyard where there lay a pool accompanied by an area where your parents had recently installed a small basketball court. It seemed Seokjin would be sticking with basketball for a while, and you couldn't complain.
You especially couldn’t complain when you’d pretend to go outside and draw in your sketchbook when you were actually just watching the boys play scrimmages of basketball. Your crush only worsened every time Yoongi would come over to you, dragging you with him to get you to play in one of the games with them. And every time, you found yourself unable to say no to him.
And when the rest of the boys had to head home, the night usually ended with Yoongi and Hoseok deciding to stay the night as per Seokjin’s request. This, of course, always resulted in the three of them plus you staying out in the backyard, teaching you how to shoot and block. However, Yoongi ended up being the one to teach you most of the tricks, telling you that you were his prodigy in the making.
“You’re gonna be better than me one day,” he said one night as you made a basket.
From the other side of the court, Seokjin snorted. “Don’t go lying to her, Yoon.”
“Yah!” you whined, stomping your foot at your brother. "Watch it, four-eyes!"
Your brother only laughed, quickly tsked at you when he'd heard your insult, while Hoseok, who stood beside him, whacked his chest. “She’ll get better the more she practices,” he reassured with a warm smile.
You beamed at him, opening your mouth to speak, but a hand resting on top of your head trapped the words in your throat. You blinked and followed the hand, discovering that it was Yoongi who had decided to rest his palm atop your crown, his other hand holding the basketball. “She’s already better than you are now,” the Min boy teased, raising his brows.
“Really?” you questioned, your voice small and hopeful.
Yoongi looked down at you and nodded. “Way, way, way better,” he hummed as he scrunched his nose, patting your head before he dropped his other hand to the basketball. “Just look at those long arms of his. He’ll slap you in the face before he can steal the ball.”
You let out a burst of laughter, and Seokjin scolded the two of you.
“Stop fraternizing with the enemy!” the Kim boy yelled, his hands out.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Your little sister is not the enemy,” he began. “Those long arms of yours are . . . and that awful hand-eye coordination you got going on.”
“Yah!” Seokjin hissed, almost stomping his foot on the asphalt, but stopping himself. “My arms are a normal length.”
“Let’s put it to the test,” Yoongi declared as he passed the ball to Seokjin. “New game?” His eyes drifted to you as if asking you personally.
“New game,” you mumbled, trying to find your voice but you were too wrapped up in his eyes. Yoongi grinned at that and you were sure you were going to faint.
“Me and the kid against you and Hoseok?” Yoongi announced, looking at Seokjin for confirmation. “Or are you too scared to face me and my prodigy?”
Me and my prodigy.
You turned bashful. To the diary, it would go.
And before you could convince yourself that you heard wedding bells in the background, you heard Seokjin agree and then Yoongi was giving you a friendly pat on the back before he immersed himself into the game. You had no choice but to follow suit, after all, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by making him lose the game. It wasn’t until you guys had actually won that you were convinced Yoongi was some kind of good luck charm.
. . . You had a crush. A big fat one at that.
This carried on even as the years passed; even as you turned eleven and then twelve; even as Yoongi turned thirteen and then fourteen. You both grew, but the bond only strengthened, morphing into a friendship even you hadn’t seen coming. Even though you knew Yoongi only saw you as if you, too, were his little sister, you didn’t care. You realized having him as a friend meant more to you even at your young, immature age. You also didn’t mind having Hoseok around, finding yourself with a wide grin on your face when all four of you guys were together. And . . . Seokjin eventually got used to the fact that his friends were now also kind of his little sister’s . . . although he didn't take this information well at first.
(But you made sure to rub it in your brother’s face every chance you got.)
When you were twelve years of age you gave Min Yoongi a paper ring.
Over the past two years of Yoongi and Hoseok coming over without the other team members, you had grown to know more about the two. For instance, one day Hoseok showed up after agreeing to meet Seokjin and Yoongi for a game, but he didn’t show up alone. Instead, accompanying him was his little sister, Jung Hari, who stood small and lanky with her head held low as she bashfully peeked up to look at her brother’s friends.
And you wasted no time. You’d grabbed the girl by the arm, asking her if she’d like to watch a movie (preferably your favorite . . . Matilda) while the boys played a game of basketball.
The thing was: you weren’t a shy kid, you just didn't have many friends. You had been shy when you were younger, but now, you weren't as bashfully shy as you had been, even if you still heated up any time Yoongi asked you to teach him how to draw the simplest of things. You were loud and colorful. And since Hoseok was only a year older than you, you oftentimes found yourself running your mouth along with him while your brother and Yoongi rolled their eyes at the two of you.
So when you saw Jung Hari, only one year younger than you, sulking as she was forced to accompany her brother to his hang out, you had jumped at the chance to make the girl feel at home.
Hari ended up coming along with her brother a lot more after that, and it was no surprise that the two of you had grown close.
You introduced the world of art to Hari, and Hari shared with you her secret pastime of origami. You guys had rolled your eyes when the boys would eat their food too fast, resulting in three teenage boys groaning about their stomach aches. And when you would sit outside and watch the boys play their silly little games, Hari would join, her nose held high in disgust when they’d try to pull her in to join the game. (While she would protest and protest, it was normally you who would convince the younger girl to join. It became evident the two of you would do anything for each other.)
And when you turned twelve, the month of February rolling around, you came to the one person who you knew would help you—Hari. Why exactly did you need help? Well . . . you heard from your brother that Han Daeun was going to ask Yoongi to be her valentine, and suddenly you were an atomic bomb.
For three days you contemplated asking Hari to show you how to make a paper ring, and on the third day, you went to her. And a day later, you trudged out to your backyard with a paper ring clutched tightly in your hand. There, you found Yoongi shooting hoops while he waited for Seokjin to return from the bathroom.
“Yoon,” you called out toward the older boy.
At the sound of your small voice, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder, brows raised high in question as he clutched the basketball in his hands. Once he found your face, his nose scrunched as a smile lifted onto his face. He tossed the basketball to the side and made his way toward you.
“Hey,” he said, his voice ever so calm. He sounded the way he always did—cool, calm, and collected. “How’s my prodigy doing?”
You forced yourself not to get too flustered, but it was no use. Yoongi was almost fourteen now. It would be March soon and then there would be two years still between you guys once again. Even now he looked older than he was. Perhaps it was because he always carried himself in such a way that even you couldn’t wrap your mind around. You supposed that was one of the first things you noticed about him—he seemed to view the world differently from everyone else.
“I’m OK!” you exclaimed, your voice coming out an octave too loud. It was just that . . . you were nervous. You knew you had to give him the ring quickly before your brother came back out and made a fool of you. “Um . . . I just have . . . something to give you.”
Yoongi grinned wider, his gums showing. “You have a present for me?” he asked. “It’s not my birthday for another month.”
“It’s not for your birthday,” you rushed out, perhaps a little too quickly. You nervously twisted the paper ring in your hand and gnawed on your bottom lip.
Yoongi blinked in confusion. “Oh.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. “It’s for valentine’s day,” your words were clumped together as you spoke. “Here—” you shoved your hand out, revealing the paper ring with a perfectly crafted heart in the middle of it— ”It’s a ring. I wanted to know if you’d be my valentine?”
The silence was your only answer. Your heart dropped.
Slowly, you peeled open your eyes to find Yoongi staring at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. You got the feeling that this would not be the last time Min Yoongi would give you that damned look. But at the time, the look nearly made you sob at the sight.
The older boy murmured your full name, trailing off. He didn’t refer to you as his prodigy or as kid. He just simply called you your boring old name, and somehow that broke your heart more, because you knew what it meant. You knew he only saw you as your brother’s kid sister. He’d never see you as anything else, so when he said your name, it was the simplest rejection he could’ve given you.
You dropped your hand and averted your gaze. You had to get out of there. “I’m sorry,” was all you could mumble as you threw the ring to the ground, turned around, and walked back inside. You passed Seokjin on your way to the living room, but when he went to tease you, you only flipped him off and flopped down on the couch. Your sketchbook awaited you, and you sat there sulking as you drew.
An hour later, Seokjin came back inside with Yoongi behind him. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. You couldn’t help but flush with warmth as you avoided eye contact with Yoongi at all costs.
But then came Seokjin’s voice. “Why are you acting so weird?” he questioned you as he sat down on the other couch. “Did you and Hari fight?”
You shook your head, huffing. “No, you nerd.”
“Did something happen at school?” he pressed. “Was it a boy?”
You stilled.
Seokjin stood to his feet and said your name. “Was it?” he went on, his voice gruff as he fixed his glasses on his face.
You didn’t respond.
And Seokjin took that as an answer. “OK, here’s what we’re going to do,” he began, pointing to Yoongi as if the two of them were trying to come up with their next play for a game. “We’ll round up the team and jump the fucker. There’s a dozen of us, and one of him. We got this.” He turned to you next. “What’s the dickhead’s name? Huh? Spill it or I’ll call Hoseok and he’ll get it out of Hari.”
“It’s fine,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.
“It will be once I find him,” Seokjin grumbled. “Come on—”
“No!” you yelled, finally glancing up at your brother, but your eyes found Yoongi’s instead. “It’s fine. He didn’t do anything.”
It was silent for a moment as Seokjin searched your face, but ultimately, he gave in, sighing and plopping down on the couch with a loud huff. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But if he does anything, you tell me and I’ll beat his ass.”
You hummed.
Only then did Yoongi finally sit down, but just your luck, he sat right beside you. Great.
Ten minutes later, Seokjin put on a movie, still grumbling from when you refused to tell him what was wrong. You rolled your eyes. He could be so immature even at his age. It wasn’t like you could’ve told him anyway. How were you supposed to tell him that you had made a fool of yourself in front of Yoongi because you were just a lovesick preteen crushing on your older brother’s best friend? Then they’d both be giving you that stupid look.
But . . . twenty minutes into the movie, and Yoongi plucked the pencil out of your hand. You watched in confusion as the boy leaned forward and began to write on your sketchbook. When he was done, he pulled away, gesturing for you to read the words.
I’m sorry I upset you. I never want to do that.
You sighed at his handwriting. There was the pity. You slowly nodded your head and added a shrug before you took the pencil from him and wrote underneath his words.
It’s OK. I forgive you.
You sheepishly turned away from him, but he surprised you again, taking your pencil and writing more underneath your handwriting. When he pulled away, you blinked at his words in disbelief.
Ask me again when you’re 25.
You blinked a couple more times, not believing your eyes. Then, you felt his hand touch yours as he pried your fingers apart, revealing your palm. He put the paper ring you had thrown away into your palm and then pulled away, leaving you in utter confusion as you blinked up at him, your eyes as wide as saucers. The boy only muffled his laugh as he pinched your chubby cheek before he turned back to the movie, completely unbothered.
But you couldn’t pay attention to the movie. You knew he only saw you as Seokjin’s little sister, but still, his words had comforted you, nursing the embarrassment you had previously felt. Ask me again when you’re twenty-five, he had written, and you made a vow to yourself that you would.
Ask me again when you’re twenty-five. You smiled.
To the diary, it would go.
“I can’t believe you ran away,” Yoongi groaned as he plopped down on the seat next to you.
You only smirked. You were fourteen now, and not willing to listen to anyone’s advice. The only thing on your mind: you wanted to be an artist.
That all led you to that day. You see, there had been this art gallery in Busan where there were bound to be scouts and agents looking at all the underground artists that had the privilege to have their work displayed in the gallery. And, well, about three months prior, you had submitted a bunch of your pieces to the gallery, and to your surprise, they’d chosen one of your pieces to display. You, of course, had lied about your age, claiming you were four years older than you actually were, but still.
And the event was today.
Obviously, you couldn’t go telling your parents about this, especially your father, who’d have a fit if he knew his daughter wanted to waste her career on paints rather than medical tools. So that left you with no choice other than to book a ticket (with your allowance, of course) for the train going from Seoul to Busan that Saturday morning.
And who, of course, caught you sneaking out of your house that early Saturday morning? Min Yoongi . . . as always. And just your luck (or rather misfortune), Yoongi wouldn't let you go alone unless you let him come with you. To which you had only rolled your eyes at and hastily agreed as you were pressed for time, and then the two of you were off, riding your bikes to the sound of "It's No Big Deal” as you both approached the Seoul train station.
That led you to now—the two of you sitting on a train about to take off toward Busan, and you couldn’t wipe the wide grin off your face no matter how many times Yoongi complained.
“For the record, I didn’t run away,” you jested as you looked at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. “I’m just . . . destined for greater things.” You giggled at your own words, sighing a pleasant hum. “Plus . . . no one else is going to make this happen besides me, so I have to seize the day, right? Isn’t that what you’ve always told me? Never give up?”
Because he had. Ever since the paper ring incident; ever since the two of you grew closer; ever since Yoongi started asking questions about the things you would draw; ever since you started attending his piano recitals, he’d always tell you to get what you really wanted out of life for yourself and not for others. He’d always told you to chase what you desired, and you’d always listened.
Yoongi sighed, resting his head against the headrest of his seat. He lolled his head to the side, meeting your eyes. “I can’t say you’re wrong,” he hummed, sending you a warm smile. “You should chase your dreams. You’ll blow them away with your drawings.” He smiled wider. “I told you I thought they were cool years ago, and I meant it.”
“Well, then,” you began, your head held high with your nose in the air as you tried to come up with words to respond with. “I guess this means you support my decision?”
Yoongi tapped your nose. “You’ll always have my support, kid.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t have gotten off this train even if you forced me,” you huffed, sinking into your seat.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he laughed, his gums showing slightly. “You can’t be controlled. That’s what I like about you. You’re reckless—” he glanced over at you for just a second— “in a good way. Don’t go thinking I’m dissing you. Actually . . . I think I envy you.”
Yoongi was sixteen now. He knew a lot more about the world than you. And you were still only fourteen. You didn’t know who you were. You were sure Yoongi had always known who he was and who he’d become. It was one of the things you admired about him. It was the reason you were on that train. So . . . how did he envy you when he had been the one to teach you to fight for what you wanted?
“Me?” you finally snorted. “Why would you envy me?”
“Because you know what you want.”
“Oh.”
“You always have.”
You turned away, looking out the window. “I wouldn’t say that,” you sheepishly mumbled.
“I would,” he countered, gaining your eyes on him. “You’ve never done anything you didn’t want. You just go for it. Anything you want . . . you go for it.” He nudged you with his elbow. “You’ll go far, kid. You’ll see. Just . . . promise me you won’t forget me when you’re famous.”
You slapped a hand to your chest. “I promise.”
And then Yoongi was sticking out his hand, his pinky on display.
You smiled and locked your pinkies together, shaking. A pinky promise—just like the one he’d offered to you that time you were young and scared of a horror movie your brother had put on. It was another promise shared between you both.
“I promise,” you said again, grinning wider now.
It was silent for a moment as you guys dropped your hands just as the train had begun to move. But it wasn’t quiet for long. It never was with the two of you.
“How long do you think before Jin figures out we’re not there?” Yoongi asked after a minute.
You looked down at your watch. “About . . . tomorrow morning o’clock.”
Yoongi scrunched his nose as he laughed—it was loud and hearty, unlike you’d ever heard before. “Oh, really?”
You only nodded, taking in his laugh. You’d surely remember it for years to come.
“Well, we should probably call him when we get off,” he said, his shoulders still slightly shaking from his laughter. “Wouldn’t want him to have a heart attack when your mom finds out that you’re not in your bed.”
“Fine,” you huffed.
Yoongi patted the top of your head. “Hey, now, don’t sulk,” he began. “They were going to find out about your little mission eventually. You just got to rip off the bandaid.”
“Easier said than done,” you mumbled. “Dad wants me to be a doctor. He says I’m too smart to let it go to waste. He’ll be pissed when he finds out . . . “
“So what’s the plan?” Yoongi asked, although you both knew he wasn’t really asking. You both knew what you were going to do. You had already decided.
And as expected, you said, “I’m gonna go to this art gallery.”
“And then?”
“Even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll keep at it,” you reassured yourself, but you still felt . . . weak. “This is my thing . . . my life. I’ll keep at it even if no one supports me. I’ll make it even if I make it alone.”
Yoongi smiled—it was warm, innocent. “You’ll never have to do anything alone,” he murmured, his voice soft as if he were comforting a small child. “I’ll be here every step of the way. Wherever you are in the world, I’ll support you and hope it reaches you.”
You stared at him for a minute, taking in his words. As you stared, searching his comforting smile, you could feel your eyes growing hot. You didn’t want to cry . . . but . . .
“And if it doesn’t?” you questioned. “Reach me, I mean.”
“Then I’ll come to you,” he said, simply.
Against your will, a tear slipped down your cheek as his words fell.
Yoongi reached forward and wiped the tears from your, still, chubby cheeks. “The day I became friends with Jin, you became my sister, too,” he told you, “so don’t ever think you don’t have me, because you do. You won’t ever have to worry about being alone. Even if you have no one, I’ll always be here. Even if we fight and end up hating each other . . . I’ll always be a call away. You’ll always have me.”
You’ll always have me.
To your heart this would go. These words were too sacred to write in your diary. You’d keep them locked away in your heart, unable to be tainted by the cruel world.
“Promise?” you asked, weakly.
“Promise,” he confirmed, neither of you guys holding out your hands to pinky promise on it. You both knew this pact went beyond silly gestures. There was no need for a pinky swear when you both knew your words to be true. It was as simple as that.
The two of you smiled at each other for a minute after your shared words, before Yoongi dug into his back pocket and pulled out his iPod attached to a pair of cheap wired headphones. “I have a song I want you to hear, kid,” he spoke up, handing you an earbud.
You took it without hesitance, plugging yourself in as the boy did the same and pressed play on this mystery song. And as you listened, you realized the song was entirely instrumental and being played on a . . . piano. And then you realized you recognized the speed of the song, and the style of the keys playing. This was Yoongi playing.
“It’s you,” you breathed out, not able to stop yourself.
“Thoughts?”
“I love it.”
You saw a hint of a smile tug at Yoongi’s lips. “I composed it myself,” he confessed. “I’ve been staying late after school these past few weeks working on it.”
“Has anybody heard it yet?”
“Just you.”
You felt yourself grow hot.
“I just knew you’d get it,” he told you. “Everyone else would tell me I was wasting my time, but I knew you wouldn't.”
“What’s the inspiration behind it?” you questioned, still listening to the sound of the keys.
“What it would be like to leave and grow up . . . in the way I wanted and not the way everyone else wants,” he explained, curtly.
You nodded. You understood. “It could be a reality, you know?”
Yoongi scoffed. “To be a world-renowned jazz musician and travel the world?” he asked, his words sorrowful. He shook his head before you could answer. “I hate to disappoint you, kid, but I believe in you a lot more than I could ever believe in myself.” He scoffed again. “You’ve got talent. No, you’ve got the talent everyone thinks they have but don’t, because you’ll make it while everyone else won’t.” He looked at you then, his eyes soft but sad. “We’re different, you and I. I’m not like you. I won’t make it. Besides, my parents would never support me if I even thought about going down that road.”
“You can call yourself Gloss,” you simply said, ignoring his words.
He said your name in a whisper, trailing off.
There it was again. The way he said your name with such sorrow as if he didn’t want to disappoint you by continuing his sentence. But, you would continue for him.
“If you can support me so blindly, then why can’t I support you?” you questioned.
He stayed quiet.
And you continued. “When I don’t believe in myself, I believe in you and I do this because I know you believe in me. That is how I get through things. When I believe in you, I can do anything,” you spoke, your words getting trapped in your throat as it became harder to speak. “So, I say do what makes you happy. And when it gets too hard to believe you can make it; to believe in yourself, then believe in me and it will give you strength.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Believe in me because I believe in you.”
Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek, but still, he did not speak.
“OK?” you spoke for him.
He nodded.
“OK,” you reassured yourself as you shuffled toward him, locking your arm with his as you rested your head on his shoulder.
A second later you felt Yoongi lean his head on yours, and your heart glowed golden.
“When did you get so smart?” he asked after a minute, intertwining your hand with his.
You snorted. “I always have been.”
“Cocky.”
“No, just confident.”
“Shut it.”
You laughed.
Another second of silence before Yoongi snorted and asked, “Why Gloss?”
“Because your lips are always glossy, duh,” you retorted. “I swear it’s like you’re constantly drooling, Yoon.”
Yoongi scoffed. “I do not drool.”
“Slobber, then?”
“You’re pushing it, kid.”
You only grinned, ear to ear.
At fifteen, you swore you felt your heart break for the first time.
You had gone to meet Hari in the parking lot outside of school before you went to the school’s studio to work on some of your paintings when you saw them. Standing near a secluded part of the parking lot stood Min Yoongi with a girl, the two of them leaning against his car. And no, they weren’t just talking, unless you considered talking to be Yoongi sticking his tongue down the girl’s throat and his hand inching toward the hem of her skirt.
Which . . . you did not.
And you certainly couldn’t contain your shock as you gaped at them and spat out, “What, the fuck?”
The two teenagers jumped slightly at the intrusion and glanced over to see who had caught them. Yoongi found your eyes first, his growing in size as he realized you had caught him. It wasn’t that he felt guilty, you knew that, but it was the fact that he knew it would be awkward between you both, because . . . well . . . just yesterday he was blowing spitballs your way through a straw and now you had just seen him with his tongue down a girl's throat.
“Fuck,” he managed to mutter out as he detached himself from the girl and caught sight of you standing and looking at him in shock.
But you weren’t staring at him in shock. No, you were standing still because if you moved, you were sure you’d end up letting a few tears fall. It wasn’t that you didn’t know Yoongi wasn’t a virgin anymore. You knew. You’d heard Jin go on and on about how Yoongi hooked up with his jazz band partner or how he went down on some girl in the girl’s bathroom last month. You had heard it all, and every time it’d gnaw at your flesh just a tad. But this . . .
Actually catching Yoongi in the act was something you never wanted to see because you knew you wouldn’t have been able to handle it. You’d always wonder what it would be like to be that girl he was with. But you knew that could never be. You were Seokjin’s little sister. Yoongi couldn’t have you in that way, even if he wanted to or even if you were older, because of the very fact that you were Kim Seokjin’s sister, and that meant that you would always be off-limits.
So when you saw them, all you wanted to do was cry.
But you had grown into your skin a little more now. You were not brittle or weak, and you certainly did not let anyone see you cry. And you would not have Min Yoongi see you cry over him like he had seen when you were twelve and gave him that stupid paper ring that you still foolishly kept in a drawer in your room.
That was exactly why you turned completely around and walked back toward the school when you made eye contact with Yoongi, then drifted to the girl’s face, recognizing her as Han Daeun. You didn’t want to see it. They could continue for all you cared. But, fuck, did it hurt.
And when you didn’t hear anyone come after you, you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks as you silently cried. Until . . .
Yoongi’s voice filtered through your ears and he was . . . yelling your name.
You only walked quicker, almost breaking into a sprint, but Yoongi was faster. The boy secured his hand around your arm before you could bolt away from him. You quickly wiped your tears away before he could see them as you turned around to meet his eyes.
“What?” you questioned, your voice curt. You knew how you looked—cold and vacant, but you didn’t care. You were hurt.
Yoongi breathed out through his nose and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” you hissed, your voice coming out harsher than you intended. “You can do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“Don’t be like that,” Yoongi pleaded, his voice as calm as ever. He always sounded like that—collected and calm, which you usually admired, but right now, it made you want to bite his head off.
You took a step toward him, sending him a challenging look. “Like what?”
“Come on, kid,” Yoongi scoffed. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“I don’t care.”
He said your name in a whisper, trailing off.
“Look, I get it, you think I’ve got this big crush on you,” you began, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t need you to protect my feelings. In fact, I don’t have any anymore, not for you. So I don’t need you coming after me, apologizing like I’m some stupid little kid.”
Yoongi sighed, running his hands through his jet-black hair. “I just know how you get. I don’t want to hurt you.”
You couldn’t help the scoff that left you. “Oh, please, you’re so fucking full of yourself,” you spat. “Just because I had a stupid crush on you when I was a kid, does not mean I still have one. Got it?”
Yoongi only looked at you, his face blank. “Look, kid, I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered. “I just don’t want you to—” He cut himself off, attempting to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you pulled away.
“Think I have a chance with you?” you finished for him, seething.
Yoongi only dropped his hand, his head dropping with it as he squeezed his eyes shut in regret. It was perhaps the first emotion he had shown you like this. And it managed to piss you off even more.
He still thought you were some dumb kid.
Well . . .
. . . he could go fuck himself.
Another scoff fell from your lips. “Heard you loud and clear,” you bit out. “But next time, Yoongi, maybe don’t chase after me. Wouldn’t want the crazy obsessed little girl to think you might like her.” And with that, you turned around and stormed off to paint your feelings.
He called out to you.
But you only flipped him off.
And Yoongi didn’t follow you.
On your sixteenth birthday, you made sure you got absolutely plastered.
Your parents were away for the weekend, so that meant Seokjin had made it his personal mission to throw his baby sister the best sweet sixteen yet. And that meant booze, booze, and more booze.
He’d invited the guys from his basketball team that had now become nothing more than a few friends coming together every once in a while to play against each other now that they were all ready to go off to college in the new semester. Hari, of course, was one of the first people to come over way before the actual party started, bringing along with her Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, two boys in her class who she had grown close to that school year. That also meant you had grown close to them too, but that wasn’t much of a surprise given your outgoing personality.
(Let’s just say you had gained some attention as time passed, the rumors about you being a snob, trickling into nothing.)
And if they were invited, then that meant your brother no doubt had also invited Min Yoongi.
One problem: you had been avoiding Yoongi since you caught him and Daeun up against his car earlier that year.
So you decided getting drunk was your best bet.
And you did, in fact, get drunk. Maybe that was an understatement. You were completely and utterly out of your mind, shooting back shots of vodka with Jimin, meanwhile, Taehyung and Hari laughed at the two of you the drunker you became. Hell, at one point, you were sure you told Jimin you loved him . . . that was how drunk you were.
You’d caught Yoongi’s eyes a few times that night, glaring briefly before you looked away. You had a mission that night: get your first kiss, and if you kept making eye contact with him you feared you’d accidentally let it slip that you wanted him to be the one to kiss you even though you knew he never would. So, every time you’d make eye contact with him, you’d look away and take a shot.
It wasn’t until you started to lose count of how many shots you took that you realized that maybe getting drunk was not the best plan. And as the night came to a close, everyone drunk and gleeful, you tried to make your way to the bathroom, but found yourself not being able to walk up the stairs. You just kept falling over.
And after the fifth time you fell over, you felt strong, warm arms wrap around your body. One arm went under your knees, the other wrapping around your back, carrying you bridal style, and you didn’t complain (partially because if you opened your mouth, you’d end up puking on the person).
You lost track of time after that. You remembered getting to the bathroom, puking as much as you could before you felt someone wipe your mouth and proceed to help you brush your teeth. You remembered being picked up again and carried somewhere. Only when you were laid on something soft did you realize you were laying on your bed in your room while the person carefully took off your heels and shoved on a comfortable sweatshirt over the dress you were wearing. But the person didn’t dare to remove your clothes. Instead, they kept you in your dress accompanied by the sweatshirt before they pulled back the covers of your bed and tucked you in.
And you let this all happen because for some odd reason you felt . . . safe.
Only when the person sat down, their weight making the bed dip, did you flutter your eyes open enough to see that Min Yoongi had been the one to take care of you. You almost puked again at the thought out of pure nerves.
“Hey, kid,” he began, slowly as he brushed a hand over your forehead. He grabbed something from your nightstand and brought it to your lips. “Take a drink.” You realized it was a water bottle he had picked up. “It’ll help.”
And you did as you were told, for once.
When you were done, you stuck out your bottom lip, pouting. “I’m mad at you,” you whined as you weakly smacked his face, trying to push him away.
Calm as ever, Yoongi simply grabbed your wrist, halting you. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re—I hate you.”
“Fair.”
“I’m still mad.”
“I know.”
You sniffled. You didn’t want to cry, but the alcohol in your bloodstream was impacting your emotions. “You’re mean,” you huffed, jutting out your bottom lip as it quivered. “I hate that you make me feel this way.”
A sigh left Yoongi. “I know.”
It was silent for perhaps far too long.
Then Yoongi spoke. “Can I tell you something?”
“Hmm.”
“I got a gig,” he confessed. “It’s at this underground jazz place.”
All previous sadness left you then. You couldn’t help it. You sprung forward, looking at Yoongi through droopy eyes, but the grin on your face was wide. “Really?!”
A smile tugged at Yoongi’s lips. “Yes.”
You patted his shoulder. “That’s great, Yoon,” you hummed. “You’ll blow them away.”
Another second of silence. You fell back to your bed, resting your cheek on your hand.
And it was silent, until Yoongi spoke again. “I’d like it if you’d come,” he mumbled, his voice quiet and for the first time, you questioned if this was the first time you were truly hearing Yoongi let go of that calm exterior.
“Why would you want me there?” you questioned, sulking slightly. You knew you hadn’t been the nicest to him recently. In fact, you thought you guys were drifting apart.
“When I couldn't believe in myself, I believed in you and that gave me strength,” the boy spoke, his words soft. “That’s what you told me that day on the train. Your words didn’t go over my head. I’ve cherished them just as I’ve cherished our friendship.”
His words only stung your heart. Friendship. You knew this by now but it still hurt.
“I hope you know how much you mean to me, kid,” he went on. “You’ve given me hope, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to stand beside me when I take that first step other than you.” A laugh left his lips then. “To be honest, I don’t think I can do it without you. You’re kind of my good luck charm.”
You hummed, “Good luck charm?”
Yoongi only tapped your nose in response, something he had been doing since childhood. It was a sign of affection. It was perhaps the only affection Yoongi ever really showed as hugging wasn’t his style and telling people how he felt had always been too hard for him to fathom. But you yearned for it nonetheless.
“I’ll come,” you said after a minute. “But . . . can I ask you something first?”
“Hmm.”
You opened one eye, peeking at him. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Yoongi tilted his head to the side in thought. “Well . . . “
“Yoonie, please,” you whined, lightly slapping his chest.
That only earned you a laugh from the boy beside you. “OK, OK, what is it, kid?”
You stayed silent for only a second before you shot your hand forward, your pinky on display. “Pinky promise?”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but locked his pinky with yours and shook. “Pinky promise,” he murmured, softly. “Now what’s your question?”
“Can you kiss me?”
Your question was like a bullet going off in the darkness of your room. It silenced everything, and you felt it slowly swallow you whole.
And with your heart pounding in your throat, you took your chances (again). “I don’t want it to be with anyone else,” you went on, your voice pleading as you locked your pinky with his. “It’s my first. It’s supposed to be special.” You squeezed his pinky finger. “You’re special to me.”
But Yoongi pulled away, unlocking your pinkies in the process.
The older boy said your full name in a whisper, trailing off. He didn’t refer to you as his prodigy or as kid. He just simply called you by your name, and you knew what that meant.
“Don’t say it,” you quickly rushed out, putting a hand up. You couldn’t hear him say those words again. Your heart couldn’t take it. “I’ve been rejected enough to know what that means.”
Yoongi rested a hand in your hair. “Please,” he whispered, his voice weak and anxious, not the soft calm it normally was. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re one of my favorite people, but I just . . . you’re like a little sister to me.”
You buried your face in your hands. “God,” you cried into your hands, your voice being muffled. “This is so embarrassing.”
You felt Yoongi stroke your hair, and you just knew he was giving you that same sympathetic look he always sent your way. “You’ll have your first kiss, kid,” the boy spoke up again, breaking your heart even further. “And it’ll be with someone so much better than me. You’ll see, kid. I promise.”
He didn’t dare lock his pinky with yours this time around. He just let the silence consume you. But you didn’t care about the deafening silence; all you could hear were his words repeating in your head over and over again.
It’ll be with someone so much better than me, he had said, and you felt the urge to scream, because all you could think was, But I wanted it to be with you.
Despite the ache in your heart, you did end up going to Yoongi’s first gig. You had dressed in your nicest clothes, and gone with a smile on your face. And when he played, you felt the keys were playing to the hum of the beat of your heart. You were crazy to think that this song the boy had composed had been made for you, but you still allowed yourself to think it. Hell, you wished for it, even if, deep down, you knew it had never been meant for you.
And when his set came to a close, he glanced out at the audience, a small, strained smile on his face as his eyes searched the crowd. Only when his eyes had landed on you, did he stop searching as he let a wide grin break out on his face, and you could have sworn your heart stopped right then.
There was that wide, gummy grin that sat on his face as he bowed to the audience before he quickly rushed over to you. “You came,” he breathed out as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you in for a hug. (Something that he never did.)
“When I told you you would always have my support, I meant it, Min Yoongi,” was all you responded with as you embraced him. And you had meant that.
Because you had never admitted it before, but you knew why you would do anything for Min Yoongi. You knew why you would always support him. You knew why your heart beat a little faster when he was near. You knew why you cared so much about his opinion. You knew what you felt for him.
You loved him.
So while Yoongi thought your friendship would continue to flourish, you weren’t sure how much of this you could take. You were sure it’d break you completely one day.
You had to fix this. You couldn’t have a life without him in it, but you also couldn’t live a life waiting for someone who would never look your way.
And then you realized one thing: you were entirely fucked.
You quickly figured out how to get over Min Yoongi. How exactly would you do this? Boys.
Although you weren’t entirely sure it helped all that much, you convinced yourself it did. So just as the school year was coming to an end, you set out on a mission: kiss a boy. And by the end of that week, you had completed it.
You’d invited Kim Namjoon—a boy in your year who just so happened to sit next to you in a few of your classes—over to your house one evening. Your parents would be out, and you were sure Seokjin would be preoccupied with Yoongi and Hoseok. So that meant, you’d be alone. Correction, you’d be alone with Namjoon and that was exactly what you wanted.
It did not take long before you hooked one leg over the boy, straddling his waist as the two of you made out on your bed. And while you didn’t hate kissing the boy, you couldn’t help but imagine you were actually kissing Yoongi instead, because you knew for a damn fact Yoongi would not be beating around the bush, too afraid to stick his tongue in your mouth.
You knew Yoongi would be gentle, but you also knew that wouldn’t last long. He’d surely end up biting your bottom lip, desperately asking for you to comply with his request before he slipped his tongue into your mouth. And you knew he’d taste just as good as he smelled.
But . . . you weren’t kissing Yoongi, instead, your first kiss was with Namjoon, and while it wasn’t bad . . . it wasn’t what you wanted. However, you wanted a distraction. You wanted more, and you were sure Namjoon didn’t mind as he had just told you he didn’t want to go into his final two years of high school with a girlfriend. Which . . . fair, you supposed. Pregaming for college?
You were fine with that.
In fact, you were entirely fine with that as you deepened the kiss, lightly tugging on his bottom lip before you pulled your shirt over your head, leaving your chest only to be covered by a bra.
Namjoon tugged his bottom lip under his teeth as he glanced down at your bare skin. He was leaning toward you a second later about to connect your lips again when the door to your bedroom slammed open.
“I got another gig!” the intruder cried out in glee. “Kid—oh.”
Standing in the middle of your doorway was Min Yoongi dressed in a blank tank and baggy black sweatpants to match. His hair was a little longer now, but what stuck out the most was the look on his face as he caught you sitting on the lap of some random boy he had never met with your shirt entirely off.
Yoongi nodded his head toward Namjoon. “Get out,” he spat, his voice calm, but menacing.
You groaned at him, sliding off of your classmate. “Oh, get a grip, Yoongi,” you hissed as you slipped your shirt back on.
But Yoongi was adamant. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at you once. His narrowing gaze was on Namjoon and Namjoon only as he ordered once more, “Get out.”
Namjoon stayed quiet, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
You, however, did not keep your mouth shut. “Seriously?”
A muscle in Yoongi’s jaw twitched. “Jin!”
At that you jumped up, pulling Namjoon to his feet. “You, motherfucker!” you hissed at the older boy as you quickly shoved Namjoon out of your room. You shoved Yoongi’s chest, hard, before you waved to the boy retreating out of your house. “Bye, Joon. Call you later.”
When you both heard the front door slam shut, Yoongi set his sights on you. His jaw was locked, his eyes angry and full of a fire you had never seen before. And then came his words, “Are you fucking serious?”
You didn’t miss the way he spat his words as if they were tiny daggers aiming for your heart. Instead, you put up the front you had grown into over the years and shoved past him. “Eat me,” you muttered with malice as you made your way down the stairs.
But Yoongi didn’t leave it at that. At the bottom of the stairs, he reached you, wrapping his hand around your arm as he tugged you toward him. And with your eyes finally on him again, he asked, perhaps a little harsher now, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
A sly grin slid onto your face. “So you can make out with girls and practically finger them against your car, but I kiss a boy and the world ends?”
His jaw twitched again. “You don’t get it,” he began, his voice low so your brother wouldn’t hear. “Boys your age only want one thing. I’m trying to protect you.”
You narrowed your eyes. “I can protect myself,” you protested as you ripped your arm out of his grasp. “I’m not a little girl, you know? I’m sixteen. I don’t need you to tie my shoes or block the screen when a scary part comes on during a horror movie.”
“You don’t know anything about guys like that,” Yoongi said again, not truly hearing your words.
“And you do?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s that?” you beckoned, putting your hands on your hips and tilting your head as if you were challenging him. “Because you’re one of them?”
He began to say your name.
But this time you cut him off before he could give you that look again. “Don’t,” you uttered, putting your hand up. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you anymore.”
Your words lingered in the air.
I don’t need you anymore.
Yoongi’s face softened.
He dropped his hand, taking a step back. There was this wall slowly being put up between the two of you, and you both knew it. You had felt it for a long time now, but chose to ignore it. You were sure Yoongi felt it now, too.
“What the fuck are you guys fighting about?” Seokjin’s voice intruded in on your conversation (or lack thereof).
The two of you did not turn to glance at Seokjin, though. You kept staring at each other, Yoongi’s eyes now soft and wide while you held your stance, your eyes narrowed and sharp. It was almost as if you were challenging each other to see who would let go of the other first.
You looked away first.
You stormed away from the Min boy, approaching your brother as you shot your hand out and punched him in the shoulder. “Fuck you,” you spat as your fist collided with your brother’s shoulder.
“Ow, she hit me,” Seokjin gasped, looking between the two of you. “She’s mad at you and she hit me.”
“Respectfully, Jin . . . shut the fuck up,” was all Yoongi said.
“I don’t think I will,” Seokjin scoffed, turning around to set his sights on you as you headed for the front door. “Yah—”
But you cut him off, once again. “Fuck you!” And with that, you slammed the door, walking further away from your brother and the boy who held your heart. You knew you shouldn't have said those things, but . . .
Fuck you, Jin. That was it. That was all you felt. Just—Fuck you. For what exactly? You didn’t really know.
Fuck you for intruding?
Fuck you for being your brother?
Fuck you for being friends with Min Yoongi?
Fuck you . . . for bringing him into your life.
That—
That was it.
It was the brief break before you went into your junior year of high school when you lost your virginity. And it was nothing like how you used to dream it to be.
You’d been invited to a bonfire by Jimin who had dragged Hari and Taehyung along with him, begging for you to join them as well. But you had been hesitant.
See, the thing was: Hari and Taehyung seemed to have something going on, so that meant they’d spend the entire night together while Jimin would probably be off trying to get the number of one of the girls from the cheer squad and maybe try to snatch the digits from one of their football player counterparts. That all left you to be alone. Now, you’d gotten used to being alone over the years, opting to put on this extroverted front so you didn’t feel so lonely in a crowd of people, and normally you liked that. Normally you liked being out there and aloof like your paintings . . . but you hadn’t been feeling it that night.
The reason for your dull attitude? Min Yoongi.
You hadn’t spoken to Yoongi in two weeks. You knew he'd be leaving for college soon, but you were stubborn. You’d ignored him when he’d come over to the house to hang out with your older brother. Even when he called your name to get your attention, you’d turn your head, nose held high as you ran off to your bedroom and locked the door.
It wasn’t that you hated him. You just couldn’t bear to see him.
So your only option? Get drunk and get over it.
And you had gotten drunk, and you had tried to get over it (to get over him), by getting under someone else. So on the night of the bonfire, you lost your virginity in the back of a beat-up car to a boy you never even learned the name of.
Truth be told, you didn’t want to learn his name. That would make it real—the fact you had lost your virginity and it wasn’t with the person you loved.
You’d forced yourself to tell the unnamed boy that it was good and you had a fun time. Then you’d gotten dressed, texted your friends that you’d head home by yourself, and left.
You’d ended up back at your house around three in the morning, completely sober and not really caring if you slammed the door a little. Your parents were away for the week on business or whatever, and you were sure Seokjin wouldn’t be home, so who cared?
But, just your luck, when you had gone to your room, changed into a sweatshirt and shorts, then made your way to your backyard to dip your feet in the pool, you caught sight of the one person you had been trying to avoid.
“Do you ever go home?” you groaned out as you stared at Min Yoongi, who was currently shooting hoops in your backyard.
Yoongi stilled, his back stiff. But he didn’t turn to look at you.
So you went on, “It’s three in the morning, you know? You can sleep.”
“I couldn’t,” was all he said. “Boyfriend drop you off?”
“More like fuck buddy,” you lied.
A scoff came from Yoongi. “You’re too young for that.”
“Like you don’t fuck?”
He murmured your name, trailing off, giving you that same look. He looked at you as if you were still that same stupid little girl who he gave a slice of pizza to while you stood in the doorway, trying to get his attention. But you weren’t. That wasn’t you anymore, and you wanted him to know that.
“You don’t get to tell me how to live my life,” you stated, firmly. “I am not a little girl anymore.”
Yoongi gave you a sympathetic look, and you wanted to deck him. “You’re only sixteen,” he spoke, calm as ever. “You deserve more than . . . boys like that.”
You rolled your eyes. “Of course, you’d say that. Shocker,” you huffed as you plopped down at the edge of the pool, your feet dangling in the water.
It was silent for only a second before you felt something smack into your back. You released a gasp and looked for the source, finding that Yoongi had just bounced the basketball off your back.
“What the fuck?!” you yelled, not caring if your snobby neighbors heard.
“Sorry,” Yoongi hummed, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “It slipped.”
You felt nuclear. “Bullshit!” you shouted as you sprung to your feet and lunged for the older boy. You jumped at him, locking your arms around his neck and hooking your legs around his waist, trying to tackle him to the ground. “You’re a piece of shit, Min Yoongi!”
A laugh only erupted from Yoongi. “You know, this is amusing?” he chuckled, swinging you from side to side. “It’s like carrying around a backpack or a baby koala.”
You were not impressed. “You’re a bitch!” you yelled again, pounding your fist into his chest, but doing no damage whatsoever.
“Me?” he questioned, adding a light teasing scoff to his words. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”
“Because you don’t know when to give it a drink!”
“You’re the one climbing me like a goddamn tree!”
“Yeah! Because you left me no choice!”
The boy suddenly pried you off of him, clasping his hands around your wrists as he bent down to be eye level with you. His jaw was tight and his eyes were narrowed. He’d never looked at you like this before.
You stilled in his grasp.
And then he spoke, “What choice have you ever given me?”
“What?”
“Don’t do that,” he grumbled. “You know what I mean.”
You tore your wrists out of his grasp and he let you. “No, I don’t.”
“For years, I’ve known you had a crush on me, and I tried to be careful about it,” he began, his jaw still tight. “I’ve tried to be your friend. I’ve tried to tell you that I can’t be anything more because you’re you and I don’t ever want to hurt you.” He took a deep breath in. “And I know that’s, in turn, what’s been hurting you—our friendship.”
You stayed silent.
Yoongi only continued, “You are my favorite person I think possibly in this entire world, but . . . I can't give myself to you in the way you want.” He blinked, his eyes glossy. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’ve given me no choice.”
You’ve given me no choice, and you knew you hadn’t.
“Instead, you avoid me and get mad at me for this, and I don’t know what to do anymore about it,” he confessed, the night making his eyes appear woeful. “So I’ll ask you again, kid, what other choice do I have?”
And for once in your life, you didn’t know what to say.
So the only response you could fathom was, “I’m sorry.” And then the floodgates opened, and the tears spilled, your sobs soon swallowing you whole. “I—I’m so sorry, Yoon. I wish I could stop it. I’m sorry. I’m so—“
That was all it took for Yoongi to let down the tough exterior he always wore. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and hugging you tightly. He didn’t like hugs, but he’d put up with them for you.
You slowly embraced him, weakly clutching onto his shirt as you buried your face into his chest. You hadn’t known exactly what pushed you over the edge. Perhaps it was everything all at once.
And then everything really did hit you all at once.
You realized what happened that night. You realized you’d lost your virginity in a way that made you feel worthless. You realized you’d been hurting Yoongi just as you’d been hurting yourself. And then you realized he had graduated. He’d be leaving for college soon. He wouldn’t be here anymore.
Yoongi would be gone, and you’d still be there, right where he left you.
That, perhaps, was the second time you felt your heart truly break. Because Yoongi meant more to you than that. His friendship had brought beautiful technicolor to your life. He’d been the one to support you when no one else had. He’d been there, and he wouldn’t be anymore in a few months.
How could you let him go?
And then, for the millionth time that night, you embarrassed yourself again. You rasped in a loud breath and sobbed, “I lost my virginity tonight.”
“Oh.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, it’s just—“ he pulled back, slightly, to meet your eyes— “I didn’t expect that.”
“Well, it happened.”
“Was it—“ he made a face— “good?”
You couldn’t help it, you whined out a sob. “No!” you slapped your hands against your face. “It was awful, and he smelled like fucking asparagus!”
“Oh.”
“I know!”
Next came a pat on your shoulder. “It’ll get better,” he reassured. “Like wine . . . better with age.”
Your hands slid down your face. “You are the worst person I know.”
A laugh erupted from Yoongi, revealing his gums as his shoulders shook. “You love me.”
“I loathe you,” you corrected, finger high in the air.
“Yeah, kid—“ he tapped your nose— “I loathe you, too.”
Your face slowly fell. Not because he had said something wrong, but because of the thoughts that consumed your brain. In a few months, you wouldn’t get to hear him joke with you like that. You wouldn’t get to have him anymore.
“You wanna know the worst part about it?” you questioned, eyes flicking up to meet his.
Yoongi nodded, growing solemn.
“I should be more upset about losing my virginity to some loser, but instead, I’m here trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’ll be gone soon,” you confessed, trying not to feel like a stupid child.
Yoongi nodded again, his eyes now on his shoes. “I’ll visit.”
“But . . . I don’t want you to leave,” you mumbled, weakly.
A hint of a warm smile lifted onto Yoongi’s face, but he didn’t glance up to look at you. “I’ll miss you, too, kid,” he whispered, his voice quiet and weak almost as if he were having trouble getting the words out.
And when he did glance up, his eyes were slightly reddened, but you didn’t pull any attention to it.
“Are we . . . OK?” he asked the question the both of you were avoiding.
You sniffled. “We have to be,” you affirmed. “You’re my hope, Yoon. We have to be OK.”
Yoongi pulled you into him again, consuming your body with his as he rested his chin on top of your head and let you bury your face into his chest. You’d let him hold you forever if you could. But for now . . . this was enough.
“I’ll always be a call away,” he mumbled into your hair.
“I know.”
“And I’ll always pick up.”
“I know.”
Silence for a second.
Then, he spoke again, “You give me strength, kid.”
“That’s all I’ve ever hoped for.”
You felt him nod.
“Just promise me one thing?” you questioned.
“Anything for my prodigy.”
You snorted, but your heart felt heavy. “Just promise me no matter what happens even if we fight and never see each other again that you’ll always remember you have my support,” you spoke, softly and quietly. “Never feel like it’s a burden. It’s free and unconditional. It’s for you to keep forever, even if you end up hating me in the end. I will always support you.”
“I promise.”
“No—” you reached for his pinky— “pinky promise me.”
Yoongi snorted, softly, but nevertheless, locked his pinky with yours and shook.
“Promise.”
Silence once again. This time it wasn’t uncomfortable, until . . .
“Well—” Yoongi huffed into your hair— “B-ball time. Wanna scrimmage? One-on-one?”
You snorted and slapped his chest. “I hate you.”
Yoongi scrunched his nose before he briefly pressed his lips to your forehead. “You love me, kid.”
You faked a gag, which caused Yoongi to burst out laughing.
“I fuckin’ hate you,” he laughed, shaking his head as the wide gummy grin never left his face.
You only smiled. “Ditto.”
As the two of you spent the early hours of the morning fighting to win the one-on-one basketball match you’d started, you made peace with it all. If this were to be the last happy moment with him, you’d cherish it. No matter what. You’d cherish it forever.
And . . . you did.
#yoongi smut#suga smut#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#yoongi#suga#yoongi au#suga au#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#min yoongi#bts#yoongi series#suga series#yoongi scenario#suga scenario#bts smut#bts fic#bts x reader#bts au#kpop#min yoongi smut#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#suga x y/n#bts yoongi#bts suga#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#suga angst
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Here is Chapter 12! Sorry for the delay. I am feeling better, but I am still a little behind so I’m hoping the next chapter can be posted in a few days. We’re getting closer to the end!
Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU
Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.
Word count: 2,053
Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing
Tag List: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie
Yoongi was too stunned to move or even speak. You on the other hand were impatient and wanted to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Already with your shoes and coat on you walked back over to Yoongi jingling his keys in front of him, “Come on. Let’s get going.” When he still didn’t move you slammed the keys down in front of him, “Now Yoongi!”
He instantly jumped up and hustled after you. He had to admit he was really really starting to love this new take charge no bullshit Y/N.
Once in the car you punched in the address that Namjoon sent you and Yoongi began the drive over.
“What exactly did Namjoon say?”, he asked finally breaking the silence.
“I’ll let him explain everything, but I think that Suri used him to try and get to me so that she could have you.” Yoongi tried to comprehend, but you didn’t even give him the chance to ask for clarification.
“I just don’t understand what her problem is. Is it really worth ruining so many lives to keep you? I mean no offense Yoongi. You are really attractive and you can be nice when you want to be and you do have money, but aren’t there any other rich idiots she can chase after?”
Yoongi looked over at you with his brows furrowed. He wanted to take offense but you were right in a way so he knew it was best to let that one go. Instead he chose to focus on you calling him attractive instead bringing a slight tint of pink to his cheeks. He knew himself that he was attractive, but something about hearing you say it did something to him.
The two of you arrived at your destination and hastily made your way to the front door knocking several times. A few minutes went by before the door swung open revealing a somber Namjoon. He invited you both in offering some drinks before taking a seat on the couch. You and Yoongi sat across from him.
“Thank you both for coming here. Suri doesn’t know this address so there’s no way she could possibly show up. I wanted to make sure of that.”, he said clearing his throat.
“No problem. I think you should start from the beginning to catch Yoongi up on everything that happened and then we can go from there.”
He nodded, “Okay so I guess I’ll just get right to it then. The first time I met Suri was several months ago. I was leaving your place after one of our lessons and she was waiting for Yoongi out in the hallway. We talked a little and that was it. I met her a few more times in similar situations and each time we’d talk a little more. Then this one time Yoongi and Suri were coming back from doing you know what while I had just spent the evening comforting Y/N.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Oh please. If you were so innocent in all this we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“Yeah well if you weren’t a womanizing cheating asshole then none of this would’ve happened to begin with.”, Namjoon spat back.
“Both of you stop it. This isn’t the time to act like children’.”, you shouted feeling overwhelmed by their bickering.
Namjoon and Yoongi glared at each other before continuing, “Sorry Y/N, you are right. Anyways, Suri asked if I wanted to grab drinks that night. I didn’t but I wanted to find out more about what Yoongi was up to with her so I agreed. After a few too many drink I let it slip that I was starting to develop feelings for Y/N but she told me that she would never cheat and wasn’t able to leave Yoongi. Suri told me that she had a way to make it so that Y/N wouldn’t want anything to do with Yoongi outside of what was required of her. At the time I thought she was genuinely trying to help me, but looking back it was clear she was just using me to get Yoongi for herself. She started asking me for information about the two of you that she could use. That’s how she knew about the cologne that Y/N had made. She knew that the two of you were going up to the cabin so she really increased the amount of texts she sent hoping that Y/N would come across it. She knew that Y/N was going to be at the charity auction and got Hwan involved.”
“Wait, wait, wait, so did you know that Hwan was going to come after me at the auction?”, you asked feeling hurt that he would possibly put you in danger like that.
“Uhh kind of. He was supposed to just say some creepy stuff to you and then I’d swoop in and chase him off so you’d feel safe with me and be upset with Yoongi for not being there for you. But he wasn’t supposed to follow you outside or actually touch you. He took it too far and then I couldn’t find you anywhere in the building. I know it was a really dumb idea and I don’t know what we were thinking.”
You scoffed, “Yeah you think? Thank God Yoongi was there to save me unlike you. I can’t believe you Namjoon!”
“You’re right Y/N and I’m sorry.”
What about the baby situation?”, you asked after taking a breath and wanting to move this long
“So a while ago she came up with this crazy plan to get pregnant by Yoongi. She really thought that was the key to force him to stay with her. I told her that was taking it way too far, but she didn’t care. She stopped her birth control, but never said anything about it. She would complain constantly that Yoongi refused to touch her without a condom. She came up with this ridiculous idea to have another guy get her pregnant and then say the baby was Yoongi’s. I told her she was fucking nuts and that would never work. I was getting to the point I wanted nothing to do with her or this plan. But I honestly didn’t think she would go through with it. Then one night she came over to my place really upset. She said she had just left Yoongi’s office and he had once again told her that their relationship was over. He was going to work on his marriage and that started with cutting her out of his life. He even had security remove her from the building when she wouldn’t leave. She seemed pretty devastated. I felt kind of bad for her, but honestly I was more relieved that she wouldn’t be able to go through with this crazy pregnancy plan. I asked her if she wanted a drink and one drink turned into two and then three and so on. Well one too many drinks later we ended up in my bed together. The next month she told me she was pregnant and was going to tell Yoongi the baby was his. We both knew I was the father based on the last time she had slept with anyone else and I wasn’t going to let her take the baby away from me. Then when we were at the police station she showed me the sonogram and that she was going to tell Jin about it. I got upset and told her that I wouldn’t let her take my baby away from me and if she told Jin about it then I would tell you both about her whole entire plan. So when I found out from Hwan that she went through with it after I had left I decided to call you.”
Your head was spinning round and round. You felt like you were in some kind of weird soap opera. You looked over and Yoongi looked just as shocked as you felt. “Surely she won’t let you get away with this that easily. What is going to happen to you?”, you asked turning your attention back to Namjoon.
“Well I’m definitely going to loose my job since I work for Hwan’s company now.”, he chuckled.
“But I don’t even care any more. There’s an innocent baby involved and I’m not going to let her continue this mess.”
He reached to the side table next to him and grabbed a brown folder. He handed it over to you before leaning back into the couch, “In this folder is everything you’d need to use against her. Copies of texts, emails, voicemail transcripts. There’s a copy of the prenatal dna test we had done that shows the baby is mine.”
Yoongi took the folder and began flipping through the papers humming and letting go of a sigh everytime he saw something interesting.
“I mean this is great and all, but there’s still the issue of the mixtape.”, you said.
“There is no tape.”, Namjoon spoke.
Yoongi and yourself both looked over at him with wide eyes.
“What?!,” you said in unison.
“Yeah she told me all about that and how she wished she still had a copy of it because it seemed to be the only thing that really scared you. Apparently there was a big data breach at her dads label a couple years ago. Some hackers got in trying to access account information. They had no choice but to wipe every system completely clean loosing a ton of music and other files. For some reason they didn’t have any backups. She said the label almost went bankrupt until they debuted that girl group. You know, Old Jeans or New Beans or something like that.”
You lightly chucked at his lack of pop culture knowledge.
He continued, “But yeah there is no tape. She’s been lying to you about it for years.”
Carefully you peaked over at Yoongi. His face was so red he almost looked purple. He was gripping the folder so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Slowly you reached over trying to not startle him and grasped his hand into yours.
“Umm so what do we do now? We can’t just tell her to stop it. If she’s willing to go through all of this there is no way she’s going to just backdown easily.”, you asked.
The three of you sat in silence for a while pondering your next move.
“I have an idea.”, Yoongi finally spoke before getting up. He extended a hand out to you and you accepted following after him towards the door.
Namjoon followed closely behind. “Thank you for coming clean Namjoon but I think we should take a break in our friendship.”, you said before walking off towards the car.
Yoongi walked just outside the doorframe before turning back to Namjoon.
“I’ll handle it from here. Thank you for providing us with the documents.”
“Sure if you need anything else just let me know.”
Yoongi went to walk down the few stairs leading to the walkway before turning around and making his way back up using his hand to stop the door just before it closed.
“Oh and Namjoon.”
The door swung back open and he gestured for Yoongi to continue.
“Stay the fuck away from my wife.”
He turned and walked back down the steps and over to his car where you were already waiting. Gently he placed the folder in the backseat before putting the car in reverse.
He was silent on the drive back to his place and you didn’t want to push him. Once he parked the two of you sat in the car for a while. Yoongi nervously drummed on the steering wheel.
“Hey are you okay?”, you asked concerned with his lack of emotion.
“Yeah I guess I just can’t believe I’ve been so stressed about this stupid mixtape when it didn’t even matter. I thought I’d feel relieved, but I’m just having a hard time processing it.”
“So what is your plan? How do you know it’ll work and not make things worse?”, you asked reaching over for his hand.
He chuckled before looking over at you with a smirk, “Oh it’ll work Y/N. But uh you are definitely not going to like it.”
#bts#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x reader#yoongi fic#cinnamon&vanilla#min yoongi#yoongi angst#yoongi x y/n#bts fanfic#bts x reader#yoongi au#bts yoongi#yoongi#bts fic#namjoon#ceo au#arranged marriage au
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