Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be. But many years before the events of Lineage's main story takes place, there was once only the love of a beloved goddess and a damned demon.
Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, death, gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language
A/N: Surprise, everyone! It's been, what, 4 years since I finished Lineage and 3 years since I stopped writing on this blog. I've been through a lot of ups and downs in the meantime (to underplay it), but I'm now in a pretty good spot. I've thought about writing this for years and there's probably at least 10 incomplete versions of this on my old laptop, but writer's slump was a huge barrier. It wasn't until a conversation with a roommate who had complained that a fic she liked was never fully fully complete that I thought about trying again, from scratch, to complete this part for Lineage. Lineage will always be my baby, and on a reread of it to prepare to write this chapter, the me of the past did do better than expected (probably better than the me of today). I don't know if any of my original readers are still here from the days when I was active on this blog, but even if it's just one, I hope I brought this story alive just a little longer. Will I write the epilogue though (which also has 10+ incomplete drafts)? We'll see :) Hopefully it won't take another 4 years!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Special Chapter |
A beautiful clearing stretched on underneath the heat of a sun that always remained warm. It was green and lush, but void of any budding blooms. There were bits of dried flowers that showed that there might have been flowers once, which had blossomed as quick back then as rain drops fell from the sky. This clearing was eternal and could only be changed by the touch of a being blessed by the divine or damned by the evil.
A man, cloaked in black, bent down into the clearing. There was only one more bloom now that still remained, a reminder of a time that seemed distant and far. It was hard to pick out from the shadows that spread from his feet, but he restrained the shadows until the yellow flower could tentatively peek out through the green.
It was time now. He could bring her back. She would fill this clearing with flowers again like she did before, and she would laugh as he clumsily wove together a crown from them.
He plucked the flower out of the grass and pressed it against his lips tenderly. It shriveled and dried up, leaving a gray mess. He let it flutter out of his grasp and looked up at the sun for the first time in his existence.
You were born in a field of flowers, blooming beautifully underneath a sky lit with gold. The daughter of the God of Life and the Goddess of Creation, you were beloved by all beings who relied on the earth to live. You, who had lived under the protection of all who was Good, were woefully ignorant of the true darkness of those who lived in the shadows of Evil.
But then on a peaceful day, not unlike the day you had been born, you realized then how easy it was for Evil to creep into the realm of the Good.
“Wake up, my goddess!”
You flinched, peeking your eyes open to the Fairy of Tulips pulling the hem of your tunic with her small fists. “I am sleeping, Little Tulip. Only official orders will wake me.”
The sun was warm against your skin, and the clarity of your mind was still soft from the blurry haze of sleep. Though deities had little need for sleep, your habit of naps was known far and wide through the Creators’ realm. You tried to close your eyes again, nestling back into the bed of grass, and brush her off your clothes, but she clung onto your palm, chomping on your thumb. You yelped, now wide awake.
She squinted down at you, fluttering up off your palm, and placed her hands on her hips, the sunrise tulip petals adorning her body swaying in her frenzy. “The flowers have been murmuring that there’s evil nearby! We have to leave. Now!”
You laughed. Evil? Evil had not existed in this realm for many eons, after the War ended with victory of the Good. But when the little fairy’s expression didn’t show a hint of amusement and the muttering of the flowers around you remained, you frowned and pushed yourself up to stand.
“If you are certain of evil, then I will bring myself to check it out. It would not do any of us good if I left the situation unchecked, as we are by the border of the realm.” You stepped forward, flowers blooming underfoot to soften your path. The little fairy tugged at your clothes, hoping to stop you, but you kept walking further away from the clearing you had been lazing in towards the forest by it. Instead of the welcoming lush green that usually greeted you, the forest was coated in darkness.
When the muttering of the flowers pitched in volume, you knew you were getting close. You placed your hands out, ready to call for nature’s aid if the situation called for it. However, instead of some vile creature looming over you with venom oozing from its pores, a young man laid in the midst of the darkness. A closer look prompted a gasp to leave your lips. He was beautiful, more beautiful than any deity you had ever seen, and if you had not been entrenched in shadows, you could have been fooled to believe him holy. But the oozing black blood from the wound on his side and his eyes, which flickered open to glower at you, were a startling red.
He scooted back, his free hand falling to the blade by him.
“I will not hurt you!” you spoke before you could process the thought, mesmerized by the sight of his eyes. You showed him your hands. Your eyes dropped to the curve of his lips, which if it had not been pulled in a sneer would have been lush and have softened his features. “I am a healer and a grower, not a killer.”
His expression decreased in hostility. You hesitatingly asked: “Is it alright if I come close? You can keep your sword by you, and if I do anything unpleasant, I will understand if you slay me but...” You teetered for a moment. “But if you kill me, I cannot ensure your safety and that would be bad for you and me. Me because I would be dead and you because you would also be dead and...”
You were interrupted by a laugh. Your eyes flickered back to him. He looked startled at the sound he had made, and you smiled brightly in response. You took a step closer. When he did not tense, you dropped to your knees and raised your palm over his side. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and both of you sat in an entranced silence, staring at the other. His eyes dropped to your lips, though there was still a guarded look to him, and you held your breath.
“Do you want me to put my hand down?”
“What?” you sputtered. Oh. Heat burned at your cheeks as you noticed the playful tug of his lips. You nodded quickly. He must have thought you were amusing. You focused back on healing, and you would leave and tell Little Tulip to not say a word. You vowed that you would never see this brute, who enjoyed your embarrassment, again.
When he dropped his hand, you called your healing power, but the unpleasant quirk of your lips increased the time it took to fully heal his wound. When the flesh closed over the wound, you leapt back to your feet. You felt foolish, very unlike the noble and dignified deity you were supposed to be.
“I am going now. I will not tell a soul about you. You do not need to thank me, but I will tell you that you must not wander into this realm again. I guarantee that the next deity you meet will not be as forgiving as me and...”
Your lips pinched together when you felt his touch around your wrist. He pulled your hand down, and lifted his head to kiss the inside of your palm. You flinched at the press of his lips on your skin. He looked up at you, mistrust no longer in his eyes. “You are my savior. May I not be able to see you anymore?”
You dropped your gaze from his. If he heeded your words and you no longer saw him again, would the emptiness in you at the thought grow more and more?
“Only here,” your voice was but above a whisper. “If I see your shadows in the woods, I will come find you. But you must not come find me.”
He was silent for a second. “You are as cruel as you are kind, my goddess.”
He still had not let go of your hand and though his touch was cold, you felt fire licking up where his fingers made contact with your skin. You pulled your hand back like he had scalded you and spun on your heel, flowers having barely enough time to bloom underneath your bare feet with the quickness that you fled.
When you left the woods, your feet scratched up for the first time in your existence and your cheeks red, you could only force yourself to squeeze out a sentence at the quivering little fairy: “There was no evil.”
Your encounters with him continued, in secret and away from prying eyes. You talked about your visits to the human world: the songs you had heard and how you wished you could have danced and the loaves of bread you spotted cooling on the tables. You even talked about how your duties burdened you, though you were made to fulfill them, and how you felt like you were only able to handle them out of love for your humans. He talked about the books he had picked up in the human world, how he had found them meager and naïve at first and then interesting, and the little lake of lava he had grown up by and skipped rocks in. Though he spoke very little, when he did, you were captured by him.
And with the increase of encounters, your feelings of love, which you had reserved for only the creations that had been blessed by the hands of the Creators, grew. You let him hold you close to his chest, and when you laid your head on his flesh, you swore you could almost hear a heart beat quicker and quicker.
On your seventh encounter, when you had brought a basket of flowers into the woods to weave into crowns, you had placed one on his head. When he reached out into your basket and pulled out a handful of flowers, you watched him clumsily weave the flowers together and place the lopsided crown on your head. How could this man, as tender and clumsy as he, be evil?
When he looked dejected at the sight of the crown limply hanging onto your head, you laughed and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. You had seen your lovely humans do this to express their adoration.
His hands reached up around your waist and pressed you close until you were on his lap. You gasped against his lips, and his tongue was in your mouth, delving into its depths. You burned underneath his exploration, your hands clenching onto his clothes into fists. Oh, you had never known pleasure like this, so unlike the simpleminded happiness you felt watching the trees hum in the wind and your humans create art. This pleasure was different: it blazed hotly, burning down trees and creating destruction in its path.
When the two of you were separated, your eyes blurred in a haze, he brushed his finger over the plumpness of your bottom lip, soaked in the mixture of saliva. His eyes were filled with anguish, but for what, you did not know. “My name is Yoongi.”
You let out a startled gasp at this. Oh. Oh no. You knew this name. You pushed away from him and onto your feet, flinging an arm out to point at him. “You are the Demon God. You...!”
He was on his feet now, his hands reaching out to grab onto you. But you were inconsolable, banging your fists on his chest.
“You are the one to harm my beloved humans! I have seen your creations rise up, full of evil and malice. I have seen them destroy and terrorize and kill-!”
He held your hands to his chest, pressing your fists against where his heart would have been had he been human, and the fight drained out of you, as you laid limply in his embrace, tears wetting the fabric of his clothes. His voice was ragged as he spoke. “I am full of evil, my goddess. I was full of evil. I admit, I who had been wandering in darkness did not know good. But you, who could have slain me, showed me good when you saved me. I can be good for you, as long as you do not leave me. You hold my pitiful existence in your hands.”
He reached up a hand to touch the flower crown. The crown disintegrated underneath his touch. “You see, whatever I touch, I destroy. But with you, I can control this damned ability of mine. I can see reason.” He swallowed heavily. “I can see you. And when I see you, I see all that is good. I can see the flowers that you love to smell and out of all of them, you love lilies the most. I can see that you love humans, though they pillage and lie and kill. I can see why all beings seek the warmth of the day and fear the coldness of night.”
You looked up at him. He, who was evil, was nothing more than a creation led astray.
“I am sorry,” you finally whispered, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. “I...You will have to give me time.”
When you pushed yourself away from him, this time for good, you walked away.
When he saw that you had left without even a look back at him, he looked up as a large crow flew down. When it landed, it transformed into that of a handsome man with narrow eyes and bronzed skin and cheeks that would have revealed a dimple had he been a smiler.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi spoke, “Keep an eye on her for me. I will leave to deal with the issues of the Demon Realm.”
Namjoon nodded his head and hummed in agreement. “I will. A favor for a friend.”
Yoongi laughed. “Your associations with humans have made you more like them. A demon has no need for friends. In our existence, there are those who lead, and those who follow.”
Namjoon turned his head to look at where the little goddess had been. “And how would you describe her: a leader or a follower?”
Yoongi’s hands clenched briefly, like he could still feel her warmth, and his eyes were still pinned to where she had been. “She is holy. Holier than my damned existence. And yet I still want to monopolize her and make her look only at me.”
“So then?” Namjoon asked again. “How would you categorize her?”
Yoongi remained silent for a moment. Then, he vanished, leaving Namjoon alone in the forest. Namjoon thought to himself then: what about this little goddess captured the attention of a demon that had been damned from the beginning?
Namjoon kept a careful eye on the goddess. Though on the surface, it was due to orders from his liege, he could not help the insatiable curiosity about her. She was kind—though kindness was not much familiar to a demon like him. She certainly loved those humans, as foolish and terrible they were. And when she watched a wedding, there was a certain sadness lingering in her eyes that captured him.
And so, as Yoongi remained away from her side, Namjoon found himself fixated on this presence.
He had been following her in a crow form when he was caught by the pudgy hands of some kid who was little more than the neighborhood bully. The kid had thrown him onto the ground and menacingly reached down to start plucking at his feathers. He had thought about growing back into a fierce snake, who could rear up to bite the human that dared to grab him and leave him on the verge of death, when a voice cried out.
“Leave that bird alone!”
The child bully looked up, prepared to viciously attack the person who dared to interrupt his fun time, but swallowed his words at the sight of the glowering adult. The little goddess had taken on the form of a muscular man, with biceps that bulged like the size of a boulder, and the kid had been too flustered to come up with a retort. Instead, the kid dropped Namjoon’s bird form and sped off.
When the muscular man shifted back into the form of the little goddess, Namjoon watched as you ran up to him and lifted him up to inspect him. “Oh, I am so glad you were not harmed! I love those humans, but I do not particularly enjoy it when they decide to hurt other innocent beings.” You squinted down at him with analytical eyes. Namjoon gulped, fearing that you would have caught onto the true self that lingered underneath the disguise. “Do you think I was too mean by taking on that scary form, right?”
Namjoon shook his head, forgetting that birds should not have understood the human language. But you laughed like this was to be expected, and Namjoon felt silly: of course, animals like birds would understand the words of this goddess. “Good! Well, I will let you be now, little guy. Try to be more careful, so you will not get caught again. You are a handsome bird, with very beautiful feathers. There are many humans who would catch you just to capture your feathers.”
Namjoon puffed up in pleasure. Of course, he was beautiful. He was a high-ranking demon. This crow form was nothing for him. If anything, he was the most handsome crow out of all the crows that occupied the human realm. He squinted his eyes. What was he even thinking?
In his agitation, he fluttered his wings and flapped away, ignoring the tinkling sound of laughter that she made when he almost rammed into a tree branch.
When Yoongi returned and had asked Namjoon on how his goddess had fared without seeing him, Namjoon could not help the zip of pleasure that ran through him when he had answered that she had been more than fine, and Yoongi had glowered in response.
Namjoon then understood why Yoongi had been unable to answer him when he had asked which category the little goddess had occupied. She was neither a leader nor a follower. Her existence itself was a source of contentment, of happiness that destroyed the boundary between who was meant to control and who was meant to be controlled.
There were many creations that were beautiful. And there were few creations that were both beautiful and kind. But beautiful and kind creations never lived long.
You loved most the most beautiful and kind of the humans: a young girl who had lived as a daughter of a baron. You had chanced upon her on one of your visits, watching her help the poor though her family itself had little means, and when she had begged for help from a deity to help save her from her plight, you had been listening to her pleas that she not be sold to the vicious king that ruled over her kingdom.
You did something that you reserved for only your most favorite humans: you appeared in front of her. When you had offered her a way to avoid the favor of the king—a bell that would turn her into a bird that could fly out of the king’s grasp—she had laid on the ground and kissed your feet in joy.
But word of the goddess that appeared with the golden bell spread far and wide. And when you entered the human realm, wanting to see how that human girl was faring, you were soon captured by the king’s army. When you were lead to the throne room, your hands wrapped in chains, you were distraught at the sight of your most favorite human pointing at you.
“This is the goddess!” she declared. She turned to the king, who looked like a walking corpse with sallow skin and hollow cheeks underneath the gold and silk he wore. “Your majesty, I implore you to remember our deal. For her capture, you will let go of my parents and give us enough gold to revitalize our land and tend to our people.”
Oh, though she had betrayed you so, you felt a rush of pride. Betrayal for a good reason, you could tolerate, for you loved her so. But the king had merely raised his hand, and a knight rushed forward with a fell swoop of his sword. When her head, bloody, fell in front of you, you let out a ragged cry.
The king knelt down in front of you, a blade in his hand. You flinched as he wielded the knife...and sliced his palm open. He reached up to cup your cheek, smearing his blood on your flesh. “I heard tears from a goddess could cure all wounds.”
He lifted his palm back and watched with awe as the wound on his palm closed up. His eyes glowed with a sick greed. “Then it must be true. That the blood of a goddess can cure all ailment. You know, I had this knife brought to me for this very moment when I first heard the legends. It is made of a terrible evil capable of killing good. You should know that I was granted this knife from the Demon God himself after I sacrificed many peasants.”
He raised the knife and sliced your palm. You felt pain for the first time in your existence, but even more hurtful, you felt anguish bite at what might have been your heart. Gold ichor spilled out of your wound, and he hastily bent down to drink your blood. Color returned to his cheeks at once. You watched in disgust and horror as he laughed with glee. He sobered up, looking down at you. His eyes glittered with the remnants of the sickness that had imprisoned him so.
“Then it must be true. That the sacrifice of a goddess can fulfill any wish, a wish that would last for all of time. Your death can bring anyone back to life. For with your death, life will follow. I will be able to see my wife then.” He lifted the knife, and you were silent as he brought it down in a fell swoop. The blade pierced the flesh above your clavicle, but not a sound of pain left your lips. You pinched them together, even as your body collapsed on the cold floor.
You thought of Yoongi then. You wanted to let him know that you forgave him, for his deceit and for how he had tricked your beloved humans. But you were no longer capable of doing so. You were bleeding out on this floor, just like any other mortal that you had loved. You hoped that the Creators would not hurt the humans who had harmed you. There were many you had loved. And you knew that the Creators loved them even more so.
You saw a flash of red in front of your blurry gaze. A voice called your name, begging. You had never heard a voice that despaired like this voice did. You wondered, for a moment, why it sounded like Yoongi. Something wet splashed onto your skin, the sound of a crackle and a pop following. Ah, the tears of a demon, unlike the tears of a god, caused pain. But you did not feel any pain, not now. Ah, it was Yoongi.
You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you saw good in him, that even when you were not around he could still be good. But your time, which had seemed to stretch on infinitely before, was now finite, limited by a few seconds left.
You whispered, gasping out short little breaths between the words. “I...forgive...all.”
“Wake...!” you heard.
And then you could speak no longer. And you could hear no longer.
The end of the realms was imminent. Underneath the grief of the ruler of the demon realm, fires roared and overtook earth. Soon, once earth was taken and destroyed, rage would spread and bring all that existed down to the burning afterworld.
The God of Life could not stand by and witness the end of all that he had created. When he had found himself in front of the Demon God, he had been prepared for the sword that the Demon God had pointed at his chest.
“You...! She is your daughter, and you wish me to spare the lives of the humans who...!” The Demon God had screamed in anguish. Though tears remained unshed in his eyes,
The God of Life loved all he created very much. And he had loved his daughter, who had sprung forth from the love he had with his wife, very much as well. But as the Giver of Life, he was unable to upset the balance of the world he had created, not when the balance was so fragile. He could not bring his daughter back. Not without an equal trade.
“I also love her very much." Loved. In that moment, for the first time in his existence that had always been steady and predictable, The God of Life relented.
"There is a chance for her to return.” He started. “But you must adhere to what I will tell you. So that you will not destroy the world, I will tell you of how you may be granted mercy from Fate.”
The Demon God was silent now, his face stony and emotionless. But there was something dangerous taking root in his eyes. A sickness that could not be cured: Hope.
And Hope was the most dangerous thing, for as much as it could create, it could also destroy. For as much as it built, it brought down. It could preserve, as much as it could end.
Hope would be the reason why humanity would continue. And hope would be the reason why the king, who in his madness had killed a deity, did not die. And why many, many years later, a princess that once had been the most loved existence in all of the realms would be born into this kingdom in the absence of love.
For hope could destroy lineage, as much as it tried to preserve it.
A/N: As always, leave a comment! Though I'm not active like I used to be, I do check messages that come into my inbox and do see when y'all (if anyone is still here haha) comment. If anything, another motivator that had me come back to this blog just for this story was someone who messaged me two years ago. @theedungeonwitch, though I was in a not so great place then and wasn't able to respond to you, I'm leaving my flowers here for you now. No tag list, since I'm not sure who's still here and still willing to read this chapter :)
Warning: 🔞🔞 smut/angst, mention of food/eating, cursing, sensual touching, making out, needy/clingy, Pet name, lies, kink, unprotected sex, mention of smoking and drinking alchohol jealousy, insecurity, mention of weight&food/eating, mention of blood/violence
~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]
Words: 5.6k
Disclaimer:
- this story is just made up
- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊
Part 1 - Prisoner
Part 2 - Escape
Part 3 - Twilight
A/N: again thanks for liking this mini series and my simple writing... 🫶🏻 hope i don't disappoint 🙏🏻
****
[Day 1 into the marriage]
"Here is the wedding certificate and then here are the papers where all the terms of agreement are listed." The lawyer says as he puts down the pens and papers in front of you and Yoongi whilst you two are still in your wedding outfits. "These are final prints... they were revised based from our last meeting." He adds
"Good." Yoongi picks up his pen and signs the wedding certificate. "Thanks for doing this within short notice." And then he proceeds to signing our contract, flipping each page like he's just signing some random deal at work.
"No worries, Mr. Min. We've had clients who have way more pages and things to consider than yours two." The lawyer says
So, this means that a lot of rich people do this kind of contracts. Besides the pre-nup thingy. Meaning, contracts for those who got married just because they had to. What a world we live in.
"Mrs. Min?" Your eyes slowly rises. You see the lawyer handing you the pen.
"Oh." You take the pen from his hand and then slighty move forward from the sofa you are sitting so you could reach the papers.
"Left handed...?" Yoongi mumbles making you look back at him. He is sitting beside you.
"I- I am..." and then you proceed to signing everything. Not missing a page.
"Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Min." The lawyer puts everything in a folder and then an envelope and stands up to bow. "Congratulation on your marriage!"
You are not sure how to response as you know what 'marriage' you just entered. But all you could say is 'Thank you' and bow back
Then the moment the lawyer and his minions left the room, you finally relax and let out a sigh of relieved. The wedding is finally over. The day you have been preparing for months. And the acting as a perfect bride is over. Well atleast for this moment. Coz now, you are not just a bride, you are a wife now. A wife of one of the wealthiest and good looking man in the country. The only son of the famous mafia known to man.
"Don't cut your hair short..." he suddenly says cutting you from your deep thoughts
"Sorry?"
You see him staring at you. His legs crossed and his chin resting on his palm. "Maintain that length..."
Then you glance down at your curled hair that is reaching until below your chest. "Ahm.... okay." You softly answer
"Do you have a doctor?"
"Doctor? For what?"
"To monitor your health... and also a doctor to take care of you... reproductive wise..."
"W-what...?" You could feel your cheeks burn up. You didn't expect a conversation like this just after getting married. "W-why...? Like... Do we need to have children as soon as possible?"
He looks away. "The opposite." He then stands up, hands in his pockets and walks towards the door. "Monitor your period...so when I want to have sex with you... we're safe."
Speechless. He's so straightforward and he sound so cold. But atleast he is talking to you now.
"Did you hear me?" He looks back at you
"Y-yes... I will." You answer, clutching onto your skirt, nervous and scared at the same time.
"Good." He turns his back again to you. "You can rest for bit... and when you're done, your car is waiting at the back entrance."
"My... car? H-how about you?"
"I have work. I'll see you at the house."
"Oh. Okay..."
You watch him leave the room and see Mr. Kim his right hand man smile at you to bid their goodbye and close the door.
That's it for your wedding day. The very eventful day ended up to becoming so silent. Because the next time you see him is 2 weeks after. Crazy isn't it.
Weddings supposed to be followed by a trip for your honeymoon but instead you are brought to his mansion and became a prison.
***
You are walking around the mansion, familiarizing yourself with the surrounding with your personal maid that was assigned to you by your husband, when you hear commotions. Everyone are in a hurry and mumbling as they do random things.
"Miss... Master is home." Your personal maid says answering your unspoken curiosity
"Is he..." you softly say under your breathe. "Should I go to my room now and change?" You ask her.
They have debriefed you the whole two weeks your husband is out. They told you all the things you need to know and add a bit of ideas to you what Yoongi likes. More particularly, your hair being braided whenever he wants to have sex.
How funny that even his staffs know these kind of things. During the two weeks time, it made you wonder, what type of person is Yoongi. How can he be so open about his wants especially from a woman. Like woman he fucks.
It also made you question, did he fuck a lot of woman before he was forced to marry? Did he bring a different woman to pleasure him? Will you be seeing other women if you don't give him his needs? Can you satisfy him?
It's been only at beginning of this life and yet you are flooded by question but no one could answer it. You are not allowed to question him or be curious.
The maid nods and bows.
"Okay then..." you are nervous.
If ever he comes to you and he asks for sex, you are worried and scared at the same time. This is your first time. You are not experienced. You never had a chance to have to have sex yet since you are busy trying to survive and work for your family. The only experience you got is kissing and you don't even know if you are good at it. Your first and last boyfriend was the onky experience you got. you two didn't lasted that long and you were young back then so..
"What are you doing here...?"
Both you and the maid got startled a bit. You two looking back, you both see Yoongi standing at the end of the hallway.
"Y-yoongi?" You mumble, almost a whisper that you can only hear yourself.
Your husband looks like he just came from a fight. The corner of his lips is bleeding and his white shirt have blood on it too.
"Master." The maid bows and explains why you are there. "Miss is just roaming around to get familiar with the house."
While you on the other hand, you are shaking but you try your very best to hide it. "W-what happen..." your voice is too weak for him to even hear
"We were just about to go to her room to get ready." The maid adds.
Yoongi's expression is empty. He is just starring at you with those sharp eyes. It is sending shivers all over your body.
"Tell everybody to not set foot on this wing until I say so..." Yoongi orders the maid
She bows and says, "Understood." And then she glances at me and does the same. "Miss..." before she disappears leaving you and Yoongi alone in the hallway.
"What are you staring at?" He asks as he begins to walk towards you. "Do I scare you?"
"No..." you shake your head
"Do I repulse you?" He then stops right in front of you.
You can now see it more clearing. His bloody lip, the scratches on his neck and his scar. The prominent scar on his face that made you curious about him since the day you met him.
"No... not at all..." you answer
He scoffs with disbelief with your answer. "You are just saying that because of our contract."
You feel offended a little because you are being honest. You are scared of the situation but not him. You are afraid that you might mess up your first night but not because of him. He never really scares you which is odd.
Before you met him, people already gave you warning about him. You were worried yes however all of that blew away when you saw him look at you. You know something is behind those empty eyes. He is different that what people know. You don't want to judge him.
"No..." you insist.
"Really?" He then raises his hand and touch your long straight hair.
"Your hand..." you mumble seeing his red knuckles. "Does it hurt?"
"That's nothing." He answers. "I can still use my hand..." then he gently touch your breast. He let his finger feel where your nipple is and then squeezing it lightly.
You inhale sharply as you watch him do it. This is the first time anyone have touched you like this, in a semi public place. You thought you'd be uncomfortable. But no. You like it. That's what your body tells you.
He is also watching you react on his touch. His eyes never left yours. "Are you nervous?" He asks
"A little."
He smirks, "you should be."
Then he pulled you in for a kiss by grabbing you by your nape. You tip toed a little as he is taller than you. You struggled a bit to find your balance but it didn't matter seconds later as you begin to melt the moment he devours your lips. He is holding you tight and basically carrying you.
His other hand skims down your back until it reaches your ass. He's caressing you down back that it pulls up your mini dress.
"I like this." He says in between the kiss as he touched your lace underwear.
Your heart is beating so fast. The sudden thrilling feeling is overwhelming you but at the same time is turning you on. The way he touches you is making you feel you are so sexy even though you know you are not.
"Spread your legs." He orders and you follow. Then his hand goes in to your panty and cup you down there. "You're so wet." He smirks
You are out of breathe when the kissing stops but him touching you down there, it is making you so red. No one has touched you down there.
"No braids today... I can't fucking wait anymore." He then scoops you off the ground and carried you bridal style. "I'll let this one go since we just got married. I need to fuck you right now."
**********
[6months into the marriage]
Yoongi have been gone for two days for business. He said he will back today but told you not to wait and just go to bed. However, after seeing him looking at bit grumpy and frustrated during his call earlier, you can't help but worry for him. Because usually when you see him like that he'll come home with a bloody knuckle again.
Thinking about him the whole day now affects you. You can't sleep nor feel tired. Your brain is so awake and imagining things that might happen to him.
You want to call him or even message Mr. Kim to know how is he doing. But you can't. You're not allowed to contact him unless it is about your schedule or about his parents. Your interaction with him is still very limited. It's been months since you two got married but nothing has changed.
And since you can't sleep, you decided to go down to the kitchen and make yourself a hot milk. It is perfect for the winter weather and also maybe it can help to ease your mind and get you to feel sleepy even just a little bit.
"It's snowing..." you mumble to yourself as enter the kitchen area.
There is a huge window where you could see the back of the house where the mini garden. You say mini since it is mini compare to how huse this whole house is.
The bushes are all covered in snow and you could see how the moon light reflects on them. It's mesmarizing but also dangerous especially if you are out driving.
"I wonder..." you whisper as you stand right next to the window. "I hope he gets home safetly..."
***
After drinking your hot milk and spending a few minutes staring into the world outside through the window, you still don't feel sleepy at all. So even it's already pass 10pm, you decided that maybe going to your study room and to read a book might help to.
However, on your way to your study area, you walk pass by Yoongi's wing where his room is located
You could hear men talking which made you stop and observe from the end of the hall. You see Mr. Kim talking to a man wearing a white blazer coat. He looked familiar but you are not sure. Not until he turned around and talked to a nurse that came out of Yoongi's room.
He is the Min's family doctor. He is also the same doctor that did your health check up months ago.
"Why is he--"
Then a high pitched, piercing cry echoed from Yoongi's room. He's screaming. He is in pain.
Both men hurries back in his room to check on Yoongi while you on the other hand, frozen and terrified from afar. Questions like; what happened? What's going on? Is he hurt? Why? Is he okay? Why is he screaming like that?
You want to sprint forward to go and check what the fuck is going on with your husband but you are forbidden to enter his wing. Per his rule.
'Y/N... just walk away. Walk away and pretend you didn't hear anything. That's how its supposed to be...' you say to yourself in your head as you take a step back and try to act like nothing happened.
Just move on. You keep repeating as you turn your back. You know he'll not like it, you being nosy.
*******
[7 months & 1 week into the marriage]
"What is it?" He asks as he flips the page of the book he's reading.
"Oh...S-sorry..." you lower your head again and just continued pretending reading the book you have in hand.
He caught you staring at him. But to be more specific, staring at his injured shoulder. This is the first you guys spent time together again. He was gone for awhile. Their doctor insisted that he need to get an operation as his injury was serious.
Yoongi denied him so many times. Even the doctor explained the danger that it would caused him and the injury really damaging his shoulder. He's very hard headed.
But you are glad that eventually, he said yes to the operation. Everyone is relieved when Mrs. Min, his mom, got to force him out of his dungeon and straight to the hospital.
"Are you even actually reading that book?" Yoongi shuts the book he have on hand and throws it on the sofa he's sitting on.
"Ahm..." your eyes shake. "I am..."
"Okay then... what is it about?"
You lift the book more to cover your face. "A young girl... fell in love with a vampire... but the vampire does not like her... so she tries his best to find a way to be... a vampire too... coz maybe... he'll like her back." You made it up. Sort of. You barely finished reading chapter 15.
"Really?"
"Uhum..." you hum and flip a page to act like you are still reading.
Yoongi shakes his head, "What a dumb book." He mumbles.
"Why do you think it is dumb?"
He rolls his eyes. "Why would she want to be a vampire if the vampire does not even like her in the first place. What would that change? That's a bit pathetic of her and stupid"
You lower the book onto your lap and shut it slowly. "Yeah... I guess you're right..."
His comment about the book sort of hit you in the heart. Since you kind a share the same story of the female lead. You are not in love but you try so hard to be accepted and be liked by him, your husband. Though you know it will never happen. He only likes to fuck you. Nothing more. Nothing less.
"My mother wants to have lunch with you on the weekend. Be available." He says as he is focused on his phone probably reading emails.
'I'm always available.' You say in your head. 'How can I not be? I'm just at home and no where to go to.'
"Okay." You answer as you put down the book down beside you.
He is busy looking down at his phone now. Again. And just like that the room became so silent. You are just literally there to accompany him while he sits down in his home office and do whatever business he do. He do his work at home since he cannot report yet to work.
*beeps*
Your phone blinks as you receive a new message. It is a message from your friend back home, Taehyung. He's asking you how are you and also giving you updates about everything that has been going on in your small town. His simple text and updates every now and then really makes you smile. It is a simple thing that you look forward to every now and then. Since, lately, you have been loosing your smile day by day.
"What's funny?" He asks, not even looking at you
You put your phone down. "N-nothing... sorry...."
********
[11 months into the marriage]
Your wedding anniversary is coming soon and for some reason you are excited about it. You are not giggling to yourself or kicking off your feet when you are in bed alone thinking about it, however, you are really looking forward to it. For some reason, you want to celebrate it. It is a milestone for you. A simple achievement.
"Here you go, Miss." Your maid pulls out this mini plunging floral print dress with long sleeves from the hanger. You bought this online a few weeks ago. You think it is a cute dress to wear today. It is not fancy nor expensive but you like it. "Where to go today, Miss?"
You get up from the chair and undo your robe, revealing a cute pair of undergarment. "Nothing special... I just.... want to go out."
"I'll inform the driver then to get ready."
"Thank you." You take the dress from her hand so she could go on and inform the driver.
You have nothing to do today. Yoongi is out of town again and you have no schedules so you decided to go and visit your friend back home.
***
"Y/N!" Taehyung runs towards you and embraces you the moment you got out of the car. "Long time no see!" He then pats your head and pinches your cheek.
"Long time..." you answer then pulling back a little as you see his little sister running from afar. "Mia!" Bending down so you could welcome the little cutie's hug. "I've missed you! Oh my gosh! You've grown so much!"
"She's now two... can you believe it?" Taehyung says
"Oh dear!" You carry her and kisses her chubby cheeks. "I want to eat your cute little cheeks!" You tease her, making her giggle.
"Glad you had time to visit."
"Yeah... My husband is away so... I made plans."
"Why? Does he not allow you to go out?"
"No... not like that... he's busy and I got busy as well which is... new. And I'm still adjusting..."
It is true that Yoongi does not limit you with going out. It's just that you were and still adjusting big time to everything. The lifestyle, the household and Him. He is the big adjustment in your life right now.
"So, how's married life? I mean... married life with one of the richest man in the country?"
You exhale as smile. "Weird?"
"Weird? In what way?"
A lot of things. The lavish life is very nice in the beginning and exciting but then as time goes by you get very overwhelmed by the new things and items that comes in every now and then. Plus you don't repeat that much clothes which is very icky for you coz every dress and clothing is expensive so you want to wear them as much as possible.
Luckily, Yoongi didn't mind when you told him to not ask his stylists to buy you new clothes every release. You told him you wanted to buy on your own and just ask for consultation when you need to.
"Not used to it yet." Then you look behind you. "Even going around with a maid and a bodyguard."
He looks back and sees the two person standing a few feet away. "Oh... right."
"Play! Play!" Little Mia mumbles as she points at their house
"Play what?" You ask
"Ah, Dad built her a play house at the back. She likes to go their and play pretend house with her dolls." Taehyung explains
"I see.." you kiss little Mia's cheek again. "Let's play?"
"Yayaya!" Little Mia squeals in joy.
***
You spent quite a few hours at your friend's house. You even met a few old neighbors and classmates as well, catching up with their own lives and everything. It was fun. You enjoyed talking with them, finally talking this much again like before. It was refreshing.
However, along the talkings, you find it amusing that most of them got married as well after you and one is already expecting a baby and the other one is excited to go on a trip with his husband. Their stories of marriage is very different than yours. Their stories are very warm and thrilling while yours have a lot of activities yes, but the warmth, you don't have that.
You felt your smile fade away as the conversations continues. You also felt small and be like the other kid that's missing out a lot.
Taehyung even noticed it. He put his arm around you and gave you a 'it's okay' look. He knows what you are already feeling though he didn't asked what was on your mind. He just knew you needed a little nudge.
"Warm bath, miss?" Your maid asks as you both exit the elevator.
You got home already. You were knocked out on the way home.
"Maybe later?" You say.
"Understood."
"Thank you for today... you can go and rest for a bit. I'll just call you if I need you."
She bows. "Miss." And then walks off
You sigh heavily, closing your eyes shut for a few seconds before you decide to go to your study room. You want complete isolation and probably sit down at your favorite spot, the window seat and watch the sunset. Your study room have the best view of the sunset.
Pushing the window slightly open to let the crispy cool air in, then kicking your shoes off your feet as you lean your head out a bit and take in the fresh air.
The small smile you are wearing instantly vanishes as a thought comes in your head again.
Taehyung did talked to you before you left earlier. Besides asking you to visit often, he suddenly asked you if you're happy. Of course you said yes but deep inside, you question yourself. 'Am I?'
"Yah! Yoongi! You promised me that yatch so you should get me that yatch!"
You suddenly hear a woman's voice from afar. You have never heard anyone talk that loud ever in this house. So it made you curious. You peak your head out again from your window and start to look around where it comes from. And then when your eyes lands on the view of the driveway, you see Yoongi walking towards the car where Mr. Kim is waiting, holding the door and then a woman following your husband.
"Hey... don't ignore me!" She runs after Yoongi and hooks her arm to his.
It stunned you. You never hooked your arms around Yoongi's before. They.... look close. Who is she?
You see Yoongi talk to her, making an exhausted face. He looks so done and just want her to leave. But at the same time, it's not like he does not want to talk to her. Actually, he looks a bit relaxed talking to her.
Compared to you. He is strict, always serious and bored.
"Buy me the yatch!" She says again before he gets into the car.
You didn't hear what Yoongi answered. He just waved his hands and Mr. Kim shuts the door and goes to the passenger seat and leave with the unknown girl.
Before Yoongi could turn around and catch you, you instantly get back in and shut the window.
*****
[1st Anniversary]
"Good morning, Miss." Your maid enters your room and bows as she always does.
"Is he home?"
"Master left early this morning."
"Really..." you softly say. You sound sad and disappointed. "Did he say where is he going and what time will he back?"
"Sorry, Miss. Master didn't mention anything nor Mr. Kim."
"Hmm... okay then."
You had your hopes up. How stupid of you to think that he will celebrate with you. Hoping that maybe, even just for special occassions like this he could atleast be present.
It is a tough year for you. All through out this whole year, the only thing that is constant for your smile fading away. Yeah you are a bit light and always trying to be positive about the two of you. But since now its your one year into this marriage, officially 1st anniversary, and he is still like this. Maybe it's better you stop smiling already. It breaking your heart every time.
"Maybe he's with her." You mumble. "She's more of a good company than I am..." you flop on your bed and cover yourself with your duvet.
"Shall I get ready your outfits, Miss?"
"No.... just... sorry... can you please leave me alone for awhile?"
"I'll be outside."
Hearing the door closing, finally you let loose of yourself. For the first time, you are crying because of Him. Sobbing. You don't know why you are but it just felt right. You are disappointed, tired and feel unappreciated. Though you know how this thing between you two is, even you tell it to yourself hundred of times, you can't stop your own self to care and not try. You don't want to be a burden for him. You don't want to take advantage of his money. You don't want to act like you don't give a fuck. You don't want to not like him.
Yoongi is still a person, a man and you are a woman. Though you know that you don't love him you still like him. He is a kind person and giving though he is strict and have tons of rules for you but you don't care. And you don't know why you don't care.
It is very confusing for you. You are not even sure now what you are feeling. You just want him to notice you and just to... care. Maybe? Even just a little bit. ;(
You continue to cry and cry until your heart feels as numb as your eyes. You want to let it all out now to get over with your feelings. He can't see you emotional. He can't see that you care. Because if he did, maybe it will make him change his mind and let you go.
****************
[Day after 1st anniversary]
"Here's your coffee, Sir." Mr. Kim cautiously puts his cup of coffee in his desk while Yoongi is busy talking to his staff online
He did woke up early today even though he finished work late as well. He is already in his home office at 4am and very busy already. He had a few early meetings with time differences to think of.
"Can't you all fucking handle this? It's not like the task is hard!" He is scowling at the two men at the corner of the screen as he take a hit of his cigarette. "I assigned you to collect these because I know you could handle those mother fuckers. What happened?!?"
"Our mistake, Sir." One starts, "We didn't expected him to resist since it's their frist time dealing with us."
"Hmmm." Yoongi smashes his cigar on the ash tray. "Bring in your men tomorrow morning before dawn and show them how we deal with fuckers like him. And tell them this is us being super nice."
"Yes sir."
"Let's end this now. Just inform me when it's all sorted."
"Understood sir."
Yoongi then slams his laptap close and then grabs his cup of coffee to drink.
"What's my schedule for today?"
Mr. Kim then checks the ipad on his hand. "Nothing sir..."
"Nothing?" Yoongi frowns. "What you mean nothing?"
Mr. Kim looks at him and tries to see if Yoongi would realize what day it is today. "I guess you really forgot."
"Forgot what?" Yoongi puts down the coffee and pulls his phone out of his pocket to see what day it is. "So, you are telling me you didn't scheduled any work today because of my wedding anniversary yesterday?"
"Yes."
Yoongi rolls his eyes and leans back to his chair. "We have a lot of collections to do, Mr. Kim."
"I know sir. But one day of rest would not hurt." He says, "with your wife."
Raising his brow, Yoongi does not show any hint of any emotion. Mr. Kim could not sense if he's okay with it or not.
Sighing, "Ready the car." Yoongi orders the man standing by the door.
"Where are you going, Sir?" Mr. Kim questions
Yoongi didn't answer though. He just stood up and started walking to exit his office. He even told his men and even Mr. Kim to not follow him which confused most of them.
"Where do you think Master going today?" The young guard asks
Mr. Kim smiles and says, "Not sure where... but looks like he's visiting his wife first."
And he is right. Yoongi is actually stomping his way towards the other wing of the mansion where Y/N's room is located.
"Master." Two maids who are walking along the hallways this early, cleaning, sees him and greets him.
"Is she awake?"
"No sir. Not yet...."
He stops just at her door. "She's usually up early. Right?"
"Yes, master." One answer, "she do get up early... but not today..."
"Is she sick?"
"No... but..." then the maid pauses and lookd hesitant.
"What is it?" Yoongi turns to see why the maid stopped.
"Well...." she lowers her voice. "We heard that... Miss cried so much yesterday."
"Cried?" Yoongi's forehead creases with confusion
"Yes." Both maid answers
"Hmm..." Yoongi then faces Y/N's wooden door and just stayed still for a good few seconds.
"Do you want us to wake her up, Master?" One asks
"No..." he utters as he hold onto the door handle. "Please go ahead and prepare breakfast so when she wakes up at sunrise she could eat...and also... just... leave us alone for a moment..."
Both maids look at each other, surpressing a smile. They know Yoongi is worried about his wife though their master seems to not notice it himself. They find it amusing how their master is... changing. It is very minimal and not really noticable unless you have known him for quite sometime. But it is a big thing.
"We'll let the others know..." the other says, pertaining to not disturb the couple
***
Upon entering Y/N's room, Yoongi finds his wife sleeping so soundly on her queen size bed. Her arms are on her side, spreadout like they are her wings and about to fly. Her eyes, he can see how puffy they are. And her expression, she looks like she really did fell asleep crying. She even fell asleep on the buttom end of her bed.
She's adorable.
"Why did you cried?" Yoongi asks softly as he runs his knuckles on her cheek. "Is it because of me...?" He goes down to sit on the bedroom bench and picks up the book that must've fallen on the floor. "Or is it because... of this book...?" He places the book back on the bed and leans in, to fix her douvet. "I hope it's the latter... don't cry because of me... it's not worth it." He then removes the hair strands covering her face. "also.... I didn't forgot" he then bends over more before planting a soft and delicate kiss on her lips whilst making sure he won't wake her up. "Happy anniversary Y/N..." his eyes scans her face one more time before kissing her again. But this time on her forehead and whispered. "Just wait a bit more..."
***
"Sir..." Mr. Kim bows as Yoongi returns to his home office. "The car is ready..."
However, Yoongi didn't responded. He just walk pass Mr. Kim and go to stand by his office window.
"Is everything alright, Sir?"
Closing his eyes, Yoongi tries to organize his thoughts.
"Mr. Kim..."
"Yes, sir?"
Yoongi opens his eyes, just in time for the a hint of light peaks through the dark sky. "Can you please call my lawyer..."
"Sir?" Mr. Kim wonders why Yoongi suddenly wants him to contact a lawyer. "May I ask, which one?"
Yoongi turns around to face him. "Call Mr. Choi..."
Processing in his mind why Yoongi would like to call the lawyer than made their prenup and marriage contract alk of a sudden. "Okay sir... but may I ask for what reason?"
Yoongi picks up his pack of cigarette and pulls out one stick using his lips. "Just bring him in. I need to talk to him. Privately.... Asap."
NSFW. minors dni
Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader
Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff
Word Count: 9,968
Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.
Notes: Thanks to @oddinary4bts for really coming in clutch and helping with the smut and to both her and @daechwitatamic for encouraging me to make it more sad.
The book mc is reading at the beginning is Wurthering Heights.
"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav
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The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind.
The clank of metal against metal grates against your ears and jolts you out of your book. It’s a nice day, and you had some free time; you thought that maybe it would be nice to read outside for a change. But now, you aren’t sure that was the greatest idea you’d ever had.
…shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully-
The soft thump of a dulled blade hitting the softness of a body and an exasperated curse again draws you away.
“Again,” a gruff voice commands, and there’s the clink of metal clashing briefly.
Another voice groans. “This is pointless.”
“Your father told me to teach you how to fight,” the first voice says. “Again.”
You roll your eyes. They’d been at this for a week now. You were starting to believe that maybe it was pointless.
It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the “missis,” an individual whose existence I had never previously-
Metal against metal once again, and then the clatter of a sword falling into the dirt. A frustrated sigh.
I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me-
A soft thud, then, “Shit.”
I bowed and waited, thinking-
The shriek of metal on metal, then the clatter of a sword hitting the dirt. “Shit!”
I bowed and-
“Take a break,” the gruff voice says, and the second voice grumbles something in response. “Don’t go far. We have more work to do.”
You try to go back to your book, you really do. But then a body plops down under the tree beside you. Ever so gently, the book is taken from your hands. He keeps a finger in the pages to mark where you’d left off, but he turns the book to inspect the cover and the spine. He hums. It’s his book.
“You shouldn’t torture him like that,” you chide once he’s returned the book to your hands. “You know he isn’t suited for it.”
“Your father wants him trained.”
“You and I both know Namjoon has no business on a battlefield.”
At that, he laughs. “His form is really terrible.”
“Even I’m better than he is.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh come on, Yoon.” You roll your eyes and nudge him slightly. You both know you’re right. His father had trained you beside Yoongi, and while you hadn’t been as quick to the blade as the young knight, you could defend yourself well enough.
He stands, plucks the book from your hand once again, and leans in so that his face is mere centimeters from your own. “Come, then, my lady. Prove yourself.”
You roll your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly.”
He closes the gap, lips connecting to yours ever so briefly. Even though the kiss is short, it sets your veins alight all the same.
“Fine,” you say when he pulls back. “To battle, then, Min Yoongi.”
He smirks, and you steal a kiss when he helps you stand. For a moment, he has the audacity to look offended, but you push him out of the way.
“Come on,” you say. “You wanted to spar. Let’s get it over with.”
“We’ll see how smug you are when you’ve been defeated.”
You shrug and follow him to the training yard. It’s only a few feet from the tree you had been reading under, but your back had been to it, and you’d been unable to see Namjoon before he left. Now, though, you can see that your younger brother had gone in a huff, his practice sword tossed carelessly to the side. You pick it up. It’s a bastard sword, longer than you’d like and a little on the heavy side, but it’ll do. You roll your wrist, testing the balance as you wait for Yoongi to ready himself.
As he turns to face you, you widen your stance. You know you look ridiculous, legs and arms wide, positioned better to climb a tree than for sword fighting. It has its intended effect, though, because Yoongi erupts into a fit of near-silent giggles, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkled at the corners.
“What are you doing?” he asks gleefully.
“Are we not fighting?” you question, deepening your voice to match Namjoon’s lower timbre. “Is this not how you do it?”
He almost drops his sword, he laughs so hard. “Okay, fine,” he says, body still shaking from giggles. “You can go back to your book.”
You smile. That hadn’t really been your goal, but you aren’t one to turn down an opportunity. You hand him the practice sword as you pass and open your mouth to leave him with one last quip about trying to be patient with Namjoon, but he catches your waist as soon as he can and pulls you flush against him. Immediately, your hands come up to rest on his chest, playing with the loose collar of his cream colored shirt.
“Can I help you, sir?” you ask coyly, tugging a little at the fabric over his collarbone.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Can you?”
He kisses you then, properly this time, firm hands on the small of your back, holding you against his body. He’s warm and soft and solid, and you can smell a hint of the cologne you’d bought him for his last birthday. His kiss is slow, almost lazy, but there’s a greed in it, like he could keep at this forever if you’d let him.
You’re tempted to let him.
You slide your hand up his chest to tangle in the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You give a gentle tug, and he lets out a low whine.
“Don’t tease, my lady,” he mumbles darkly, pulling away just far enough to kiss up your jaw. “I’m afraid you’ll start something you aren’t prepared to finish.”
You never get the chance to respond. Namjoon calls your name, his voice floating down from the walkway that overlooks the courtyard. Immediately, Yoongi jumps away from you. Your relationship is no secret, but he’s always been shy, and you’ve long grown used to his fleeing any time anyone sneaks up on you.
Namjoon calls for you again, this time, his voice is closer, and when you turn, you can see he’s running down the stairs. He pauses momentarily, catching his breath for just a second before blurting out, “Father is looking for you. He’s received some official-looking letter and asked me to come fetch you.”
You hum and nod. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be along soon.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’d better come now.”
Your eyes drift to Yoongi, who stands now just off to the side. His cheeks and ears are tinged ever so slightly pink, and he busies himself with inspecting one of the practice blades. He must feel you looking at him, because his dark eyes connect with yours. You shoot him a look that you hope conveys an apology. He nods toward the keep silently before picking up the discarded sword and wandering off in the direction of the armory.
“Lead the way,” you tell your brother, gesturing in the direction he’d come from.
You follow him out of the yard, up the stairs onto the walkway and into the keep. Evening is starting to fall, and the attendants already have the sconces lit in the halls to stave off the darkness. You pass some of them as you go, and they nod respectfully–more to you than to Namjoon, but he’s younger and has never really cared about being deferred to in the way that you are.
He leads you to your father’s study, and when you enter, you’re shocked at how full it is. You’ve always loved this room, filled to the brim with the finely crafted furniture made by the people of the forest town. Blackwood trees are known to have a delicate, earthy aroma long after they’ve been felled, so the study has always smelled as warm and inviting as it felt. Now, though, with the number of eyes that dart in your direction when the door opens, you’re uncomfortable.
The five of them sit at the heavy, ebony round table in the center of the room. Your father sits with his back to the window, his fingers steepled and his brow furrowed, papers strewn about in front of him. To his left sits your step-mother, a rare good day for her. She looks grim, but you get the sense that the pain she’s feeling may not be just her own. Namjoon takes a seat to her right. To your father’s left sits Jaesung, your father’s advisor and head of the armory for as long as you can remember. The look on his face is neutral, but you can see an anger behind his eyes. In nearly 30 years, you’ve never seen Jaesung angry. Beside him sits Seokjin, your elder step-brother, a fidgeting ball of nerves.
“Come,” your father says gently, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”
You can feel a chill as you pass them all. Your step-mother, paralyzed by an unknown pain. Jaesung, poised for a war you don’t yet understand. And Seokjin, who refuses to look at you, even as you sit down beside him.
It all makes you nervous.
Your father stands, the chair pushing out behind him as he leans forward, passing you the papers in front of him. It’s a letter, the wax seal on the envelope indicating it was sent from the Ironhold.
A letter from the king, you muse. What could he possibly want?
It’s no secret that there’s little love between your family–the Lins of Castle Blackwood–and the Chois in the Crownlands. The Chois have sat on the throne of Cotaria for hundreds of years, and the seat of the Crownlands for hundreds of years before that, and their customs have been around for just as long. They don’t like how your father rules the Westerlands, but there isn’t much they can do about it. The Lin family is far older and has had far longer to build ties, and you contribute more to the Crown’s stores than the Chois would care to admit.
Your gaze falls to the letter in your hands, reading but not comprehending what it says. You fixate on certain words. Duty. King. Auspicious. Marriage. But no matter how many times you read it, no matter how long you stare at the neatly printed words in front of you, they don’t make sense.
The room is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t like how long it’s been since someone’s said something, don’t like how they watch you. Your mouth is dry, and it feels like you’ve tried to swallow a rock.
“This is real?” you manage, swallowing hard. When did your hands start shaking?
“I’m afraid so,” your father responds. His voice is soft, measured.
“And?”
“We did not ask for this.”
“And yet here we are.”
He sighs. “And yet here we are.”
You close your fist around the paper, crumpling it. Beside you, Seokjin jumps, startled. For the briefest of moments, you close your eyes.
Marriage to the king. A man you’d met once three years ago at his father’s funeral. He’d been miserable then, a spoiled brat too accustomed to getting his own way. You’d dreaded the funeral, dreaded being forced to interact with the young king, dreaded having to be pleasant to him. But you’d plastered on a smile and endured the funeral and feast. And now he wanted to take you away from your home, your family.
Your Yoongi.
You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to your father’s study. You can’t think of him right now. “This,” you lift your fist, the letter still clutched tightly within. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“There’s always a choice,” Namjoon blurts, immediately shrinking back into his chair.
Your father hums. “You can decline. Your brother is right.”
“Jaesung?” The man’s eyes snap to yours, and you’re struck by how similar they are to his son’s–dark, cat-like, ever-observant. “If I say no…?”
He takes a moment, his head bobbing back and forth as he weighs the options. “Chances of retaliation are high, yes.”
“We would weather it,” your father says. “Our family has endured far worse.”
“And if they strip us of our titles? Take away our home?” You toss the letter into the center of the table. “Either way, we lose.”
“So just tell him to fuck off,” Namjoon says. Your step-mother frowns, and immediately, he wilts under her gaze. “Sorry, mother. But you understand what I mean. If both options are bad, pick the best worst choice.”
You glance up, above your father, above the window behind him. The family crest hangs there, centered on the wall. A sea of blue with green chevron, golden thistle in the foreground. The Lin family words are engraved into the bottom: Loyalty does not yield.
Loyalty. It’s been ingrained in you since birth. To family, duty, self. All three in tandem. Now, though, they’re pitted against each other. Your family against your own desires. Your desires against your duty. An impossible choice.
You make eye contact with your father across the table. He nods almost imperceptibly and sighs.
“The steward arrives tomorrow?” you ask softly.
Jaesung nods. “Letter said they would arrive the day after it did.”
“Okay.”
There’s precious little to discuss after that. Jaesung is the first to go, the war in his eyes more fierce than when you’d entered. He doesn’t look at you as he goes. Your stepmother leaves shortly after, walking around the table to you. Her hands find your shoulders, skin cold against yours. She gives a gentle squeeze and kisses the top of your head.
When she’s gone and the door is closed behind her, Namjoon erupts. “You realize how ridiculous this is, right?” he asks. It’s directed toward your father. “They would never dream of doing this to any of the other old families.”
Seokjin sighs. “They couldn’t.” His voice is soft, but holds all the authority of older brother.
Ever insightful, your step-brother is right. The Lin family is the only one of the old families that allows for a female heir, and even then, your father had only married Seokjin and Namjoon’s mother after his first wife–your mother–had died. You’d been here first. In your father’s mind, you were the clear heir. It helps that Seokjin, older than you by one year, has never shown much interest in leading, and between you and Namjoon, you have always been more eager to learn everything. But because all of the other heirs of the old families are male, they will never be put in this position.
You stand. Your head hurts, and so does your heart. You don’t look at your father as you leave the study, too afraid of what you might see.
You’d intended to go to your chambers, but when you get to the staircase, instead of going up, you go down. Yoongi’s chamber is at the end of this wing of the castle, closest to the outer wall and the library tower. Over the years, you’ve probably spent just as much time there as you have in your own chambers. But this is the first time you’ve felt nervous standing at his door.
You knock. You almost never knock, but it feels weird barging in right now, when you’re standing on the precipice of a future so far in the opposite direction of what you’d been imagining. The door opens, and there he is, leaning casually against the heavy, blackwood door. You must be some sort of sight, because almost immediately, he frowns, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.
“Jagi?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.
It’s all it takes. You surge forward, hands coming up to cup his face gently. It’s easy to fall into him, easy to lose yourself in his kiss. He lets you push him back into his room, shutting and locking the door behind you in one easy motion.
He laughs a little as you kiss up his jaw. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
You don’t answer. Right now, you just want to lose yourself in him. The room is not large, and you’re able to push him toward the bed in only a few steps. He pauses when his legs hit the edge of the goose feather mattress. Gently, you push and he falls backward, his hands on your waist pulling you down with him.
You hover over him for a moment, just holding his gaze, losing yourself in the dark eyes you’ve come to love so much. You wonder if he’s able to read the distress in your eyes–maybe he is, because he pulls you down in a kiss that leaves your mind spinning, as his hands tighten on your waist ever so slightly.
His tongue hesitantly darts out to meet your lips, and surprised, you pull away to meet his gaze again. His cheeks are slightly flushed pink, and his lips glisten prettily in the light of the sconce on the wall.
You survey his features carefully, feeling your own cheeks turning red as you realize that you don’t want to stop. Not tonight. You want to be able to feel him at least once before you have to go. You bend down again to capture his lips in a languid kiss, welcoming his tongue against your own the moment he does it again.
You gently move your hands up his frame, burying them in his soft hair as he wraps his arms around you to pull you flush against him. You have half a thought that you’ll crush him, but you can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue awkwardly swipes at yours again, earning a breathy sound from you that you’ve never made before.
It startles both you and him, and you pull away from the kiss once more, meeting his gaze.
“What was that?” he asks, the flush on his cheeks having deepened from the prolonged kiss.
You find you can’t look at his eyes anymore, your own gaze sliding away. You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know.”
He kisses your jaw to gain your attention again, but your eyes stubbornly stay away. That is, until he says, “It was cute.”
Your gaze shoots back to his. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me again,” he asks, and there’s something new in his tone. A desire you’ve never really seen, or maybe it’s just manifesting differently this time around.
Maybe he can feel the sense of urgency in the moment. But he doesn’t question you, just welcomes your lips against his the moment you kiss him again, unable to resist the pull of his gravity.
His hands move down your back, and hesitantly, he grazes his fingers over the curve of your ass, barely even touching. You feel electrified, like lightning is coursing through your bloodstream, and you bite on his bottom lip.
He grunts. He grunts and you know that there is no way you’ll stop now. Not when you sit back on his lap, hands resting on his chest to hold you up. Even through his linen shirt, you feel his heart beating wildly, echoing your own.
And right where you’re perched, you feel the hint of his arousal, matching the arousal that’s slowly warming up your core.
You’ve touched each other before. It was awkward, neither of you really knew what you were doing, and you’d stopped, too afraid to get caught, too afraid of the consequences.
Tonight though? You want to feel his skin on yours, want his warm breath to mingle with your own while you lay with him. So you grab his tunic, pushing it up until it reveals a small sliver of pale skin on his lower stomach. You look at it, admire it as if it’s art, and then you meet Yoongi’s gaze again.
“Can you take this off?” you ask, fingers shaking even though your voice holds firm.
He nods, sitting up so that he can remove the shirt. It brings him close to your face, and you can’t resist but kiss him again, molding your lips to his like it was always meant to be.
But not anymore.
You push the thought away, wanting to focus on Yoongi, on this moment with him. You want to commit it to memory, to remember every plane of his body as he finally, slowly takes his shirt off, revealing more of his sculpted frame.
Being a knight has its advantages. And they show in the powerful build of Yoongi’s body, even though he’s a little more on the lean side. You gently rest on your hands on his chest, before gently caressing down, reveling in the feel of his warm skin under your fingers and palms.
He watches you, lips slightly parted, until your fingers graze the hem of his pants. But then he stops you, grabbing your hands in his.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs when your eyes meet his. “You really want to do this?”
You nod, breathing out a soft, “Yes.” You nod again, though your cheeks burn. “Yes, I want it. All of it.”
He gulps, eyes darting to your lips before going back to your gaze. “Can I take your corset off?”
The question sends your heart into overdrive, yet you agree, guiding his hands to the knot at the top of the corset. You notice his fingers shaking as he slowly starts untying it, much like your own fingers are trembling, and you let out a small chuckle.
It’s unexpected, and a little awkward, yet it feels right in this moment with him. He laughs lightly as he struggles, a sound that makes you feel like you could soar in the sky beside the ravens and falcons of the Blackwood.
Maybe, if you could fly, you’d never have to go to the Ironhold.
Again, you push the thought away to focus on Yoongi’s fingers as they struggle with the laces. He curses under his breath, which makes you chuckle again.
“Let me help,” you tell him, and he begrudgingly lets you take the lead, the tip of his ears red.
You’re much more efficient, and soon enough, you’re able to undo the lacing and take off the stupid garmetn, leaving you in just your linen tunic. Yoongi runs his hands up your sides, dragging the fabric of your shirt up, and your breath hitches in your throat when he slides his hands under the fabric.
His fingers leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin, and he brings his hands up until he’s able to grab your breasts, squeezing lightly. He grunts softly again, and you feel something twitch under your lap.
“Yoongi,” you breathe out.
He doesn’t look at you, just keeps staring at the spot where his hands cover your breasts, hidden beneath your shirt. You take that as a cue to pull the fabric off, and you throw it to the side, to meet his own shirt where it fell to the floor.
Yoongi stares at your chest, eyes slightly widened, cheeks flushed, and his breathing is quicker than usual, as if he’s been sparring for a while. It makes you feel powerful to know that you’re the one with this effect on him, and you smile down at him when he finally meets your gaze again.
“You really are so beautiful,” he says again, as if in awe.
You blush at the compliment, leaning down so that you can kiss him again. To your surprise, his hands leave your breasts to rest flat on your back, and you almost screech when he spins you around, until he’s lying on top of you.
As he’s hovering over you, Yoongi stares down at you, chest moving fast from his quick inhales and exhales.
“Sorry, my lady,” he apologizes at the look on your face.
You chuckle shyly. “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
He pecks your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I like taking you by surprise. Doesn’t happen often.”
You melt for him. Like the last snow under the spring sun, you melt for him. Your hand grip his biceps as he looks down at your perked nipples, and you feel like molten ore as he then traces his lips along your neck, down down down until he reaches the top of your breast.
He kisses there, once, before going lower, flicking your nipple with his tongue. When your hands wrap around his shoulders, he does it again, a little harder.
“Yoongi…”
His lips close around your nipple, and he sucks hard. You squirm at the foreign sensation, and Yoongi quickly meets your gaze, apologies written in his gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you immediately reassure him. “It just feels… strange.”
He nods once, and then looks at your nipple, now shimmering with his saliva. “Do you want me to do it again?”
You grab his face, pulling him up to kiss you instead. He doesn’t resist, and he sighs against your mouth as you run your hands through his hair.
Yoongi is gentle. He always has been, but tonight he’s even more so, taking his time to take off your pants once you part from the kiss. He realizes that you’re still wearing your boots when your pants are around your calves, and he curses under his breath as he unties them and slides them off, while you laugh awkwardly, hiding your face behind your hands.
When he finally manages to take all of your clothes off, you look at him from behind your fingers, admiring how his eyes darken as he looks down at your pussy. You instinctively want to hide, to close your thighs together, and he quickly says, “Don’t… it’s…” he clears his throat. “You’re so pretty.”
Your hands fall away from your face, and you hold his gaze longingly, hoping that tonight will never end. That somewhere along the line, you’ll be able to stop time, so that you can dwell in an eternity of lying here with him.
But fantasies like that are works of fiction, and you can’t alter time. So when he stands to take off his own clothes, you quickly sit on the edge of the bed, helping him with his belt even though your hands feel clumsier than they usually are. Maybe because of the nerves wracking through you–it’s hard to tell, and you frankly don’t care.
Because this is Yoongi. Your Yoongi. You want this to be with him, a memory to treasure forever once you’re gone.
A few seconds later, Yoongi is out of his clothes too, and you think your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him.
You’ve never seen him fully naked like this. You’ve touched him, hands sliding in his pants to wrap around his length while you kissed. But you’ve never seen him, standing proud and tall and leaking precum just inches from your face.
It’s sinful, and you look up to meet his gaze as you hesitantly wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping quickly.
He winces, grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Not so fast,” he tells you gently.
You slow down, biting your lower lip, and then your eyes fall down the pretty expanse of his body until you’re watching what you’re doing so that you can do it properly.
Or at least, what you assume is proper.
Yoongi grunts softly as you jerk him off, hips thrusting forward instinctively once in a while. Something wet is pooling between your legs, and all you can do is look at him, at the tip leaking with precum. He’s rock hard under your fingers, rigid veins and velvety soft skin, and it makes your heart race in your chest with every swift motion of your wrist.
“Stop,” Yoongi lets out, sounding out of breath. “Or I… I won’t be able to do more.”
You let go of him, hand sheepishly falling in your lap. Yoongi sits next to you, and he gently pulls you closer. This kiss is softer, slowly, born of the love between you and him.
He pushes you down until you’re lying on the bed again and climbs on top of you. You spread your legs for him, wrapping them around his waist, which leads to the head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.
You let out a soft moan that has him pull away.
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
You laugh. “No, you’ve barely touched me yet.”
He seems conflicted for a while, brows furrowing. “Should I touch you first?”
“I don’t… know,” you admit.
You both exchange a look, and Yoongi quirks an eyebrow before finally deciding for the two of you, kneeling between your legs. His eyes drop to your pussy once more, and he hesitantly brings a hand to the apex of your thighs. You stiffen, waiting for his touch, and the moment one of his fingers slides between your folds, a volcano erupts inside of you.
He slowly pushes in, stopping at the first knuckle to gauge your reaction. When you don’t give any sign of discomfort, he finishes pushing in, until most of his finger is swallowed by you.
“It’s so tight,” he says, but there’s barely any lust behind it. Just curiosity, which makes you laugh. He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you. And then he starts moving his finger again. “How does it feel?”
“Strange,” you admit. “Good?”
Though you say it like a question, he nods. And he keeps at it for a while, slowly fingering you. The sensation is new but not unpleasant, the slow drag of his finger against your walls, the slight arch of it as he pushes in and out. It makes you want more, and you blindly grope for his cock, though your hand falls short and lands on his thigh instead.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
“I think I want you.”
He stops moving his finger, before pulling it out to return to his previous position. Suddenly bold, Yoongi holds the base of his cock so that he can rub it on your pussy, and his lips parted as he looks down at you.
You moan softly, and he watches you for a moment, never pushing in. Once again, he asks, “You’re sure?”
You nod. “Please.”
It doesn’t take him more to push in, slowly. It hurts, and your face contorts in pain, which makes him stop between your legs.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, about to pull out.
“No, it’s…” You wrap your legs so tight around him that he can’t move. “They say it’s supposed to hurt. At first.”
“Oh?”
You shrug. You’d heard the handmaids gossiping, and after a while, you’d just accepted it as fact.
He nods once, before gently caressing your thighs. “Let me know if it’s too much.”
“I promise,” you whisper.
And though it really does hurt, you don’t stop him as he finishes pushing all the way in, stilling when he’s fully sheathed within you. There, he stops, leaning down so that he can kiss you again, his tongue dancing languidly with yours. You hold him close, bask in the feel of the weight of him on you as his hand finds your hip, his thumb caressing circles into your skin.
It takes a moment, but the pain slowly lessens until it turns into a numb sensation that you can almost entirely ignore. You nod. “I’m ready.”
He moves from your mouth to your neck, and he says against your skin, “I don’t know what to do.”
You hold him tighter. “Just move. I want to feel you.”
He nods, and then he pulls almost all the way out, before pushing in again. It still hurts, but when he does it again the pain is less, and by the tenth time you barely feel it anymore.
You kiss his shoulder, and Yoongi sighs, his lips ghosting on the side of your neck before he decides to suck on it, and the sensation makes you moan again, your arms tightening around you.
“Jagi…”
“Yoongi,” you breathe out like an echo.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to last long,” he admits. “You feel… like silk.”
You nod. “It’s okay.” You kiss his shoulder again, before adding, “Do you think you can go faster?”
He stops moving for a time, meeting your gaze. His dark eyes are filled with intensity, with lust, passion and love for you. He kisses you gently, thumb brushing against your cheek, and then he increases his rhythm.
Your words seem to unleash him, because the second you let out a small moan again, Yoongi starts going even faster, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room. Even though it feels strange, you let him do it, keep holding him close, and soon enough, pleasure starts to vibrate in you, ignited by every deep thrust.
It’s a little rough, a little clumsy, but Yoongi’s pace doesn’t falter. He grunts in your ear, and you instinctively dig your nails in the skin of his back.
That’s when he loses it. He stills deep inside of you, moaning softly, and you feel his cock twitch as he releases. You hold him through his high, gently caressing his back even though he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat–you don’t care about it. It’s him, and you think you love all of him.
You breathe in and out, slowly, as he’s still deep inside of you. When he turns his head towards you, you kiss him deeply, trying to pour all the love in your heart into the act, trying to let him know that forever and always, he’s the one that you’ll love.
Eventually, the kiss ends, the need for breath overcomes it, and Yoongi lies next to you. When he pulls out of you, you feel his warm seed dripping out, and you blush at the feeling, at the dirtiness of it, though you don’t think there’s anything purer than what just happened between you and him. So you put your head on his chest, molding yourself into his side, content just to lay with him.
It’s quiet, your mingled breathing and the sound of his heart under your ear the only noises in the room. You try to concentrate on everything, to commit it to memory. The warmth of his body, the gentleness of his touch, the stillness of everything. It’s electric, the way his fingers slowly ghost up and down your bare arm. He presses the gentlest of kisses to the crown of your head, and you have to force yourself to stay here, in this moment.
You aren’t sure what prompts it, but his arm tightens around you. “What’s wrong?” he hums, tilting his head so that he can better see your face. “Are you okay?”
Until this moment, you’d been doing well, keeping yourself together as your world shatters around you. But the concern in Yoongi’s voice, it breaks you. You don’t respond to him, merely bury your face in the bare skin of his shoulder and try to stitch yourself back together somehow.
For the two years you’d been together, when you pictured your future, it was this–it was him. You’d loved Yoongi for as long as you’d known what love was. Probably longer. He’d been your best friend, your staunchest rival, your biggest supporter. You’d spent more nights than you’d care to admit sitting on one of the castle balconies and complaining to him about your brothers, and you’d listened as he’d lamented the rigidity of his father. Losing him, being forced to walk away, it feels a little like you’re losing a part of yourself. The part that feels safe, the part that feels loved, the part that could take on anything so long as he’s there with you.
He holds you close as you fall apart, the only thing keeping you from entirely shattering. He’s basically silent, and you can’t help but think that he must be so confused, which only serves to crush you more.
“I’m sorry,” you manage finally, wiping your tears.
You sigh. “I have been given an impossible choice.”
He hums sympathetically. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”
His confidence almost spirals you back off the edge you’ve barely clawed yourself away from. But instead of breaking again, you reach up to cup his face. In the silence, you study him, trying to memorize all of him–soft, round cheeks; button nose; dark, feline eyes. He’s handsome in a gentle sort of way. Skilled in swordplay, with a mind to match.
“Not this time, I don’t think.” Where to start? Because you should start. You owe him that, at least, after appearing at his door, bedding him, and then dissolving into tears almost immediately after. “That letter father got earlier? It came from the Ironhold. As it happens, our darling king is looking to find himself a wife.”
He blanches, a frown immediately replacing the concern on his face. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
For the briefest of moments, he deflates, his head sinking deep into his silk and feather pillow. But then his arms snake firmly around you and he pulls you impossibly closer. He kisses the top of your head before nuzzling into your hair. You feel him breathe in deeply and hold it for a moment before he slowly exhales.
“I wish there was a way to get out of this,” you mumble into his chest. “But even your father said-”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I love you,” you say desperately. You know he knows, but you need to say it.
“We’ll get through it,” he says again. “Somehow.”
You don’t sleep. You’re pretty sure that Yoongi doesn’t either. You can’t bring yourself to miss a minute, so you lay there, skin on skin, listening to his breathing and watching the moon out the window. The night is slow, but not nearly slow enough, and eventually, the sky begins to lighten.
“I should go pack,” you mumble softly, snuggling into him more.
His arm tightens around you as he hums. “Want help?”
“You don’t have to.”
“No,” he agrees. “But I’m not ready to let you go just yet. And if that means I have to help you pack, then I help you pack.”
You sigh, resting your chin on his chest so that you can look at him. “I don’t even know how much I’m allowed to bring.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He sounds so confident, but looking at him, you can tell it’s a front. His eyes have lost the sparkle they normally have, and the smile he’s wearing doesn’t go beyond his lips.
You stall for a few more moments, but force yourself to get up. He helps you find your clothes and you dress quickly before sneaking out into the hall. It’s still early, almost no one should be up yet, but you have to pass both Seokjin and Namjoon’s rooms to get to your own, and Namjoon is known for keeping strange hours.
Thankfully, this is not the first time you’ve made this journey, and you know just how to move to avoid making noise. You manage to unlatch the door to your chambers with only the slightest of sounds, and you and Yoongi sneak in. He helps you light the wall sconces and a few candles, and as your room lights up, you sigh.
You suppose you should pack on the lighter side. The king’s letter hadn’t said… anything, really, about what awaits you in the Ironhold, but you suspect that whatever you bring won’t be good enough.
Yoongi helps you fill a trunk with clothes. Or rather, he handles everything, barely letting you do any of it. He folds each garment carefully, like it’s made of glass, choosing his favorite garments like a sommelier chooses wine. You can’t read his expression, can’t tell what he’s thinking, but there’s a cloud over his eyes, and you know he’s lost in thought.
You leave him to it, figure that maybe this is something he needs to do, and busy yourself with gathering other things you want to take. A few books. A figurine of a duck your father had bought for you for your birthday as a child. Your favorite blanket. A drawing that one of the artists in town had done of your family–your father, your step-mother, Seokjin, Namjoon, and you. There’s one of you and Yoongi, too, that you tuck into one of your more boring books.
You aren’t quite sure when it happens, but you look up, and suddenly, it’s light out. A knock at your door pulls you out of the trance of going through your belongings. Yoongi’s closer, and he reaches out to open it before you can even say anything.
It’s Seokjin.
He stands there, looking a little sheepish, clutching a burlap bag. You aren’t sure if he’s nervous because Yoongi opened the door, or if he’s nervous just being there in general.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Do you–am I interrupting something?”
You exchange a quick look with Yoongi, and he shakes his head. “I’ll be back soon, yeah?” he says to you. And when you nod, he leaves you and Seokjin alone.
For a few brief moments, it’s quiet. Seokjin wanders silently and mindlessly around your room, looking at your desk, a shelf, your bedside table. But then he sighs, and a pained look crosses his face.
“What have we done to get here?” His voice is quiet, tentative, like he doesn’t want to talk too loudly.
You shrug helplessly. “I wish I knew.”
“There’s one good thing to come of it, I suppose.” He sighs once again, and this time, it’s dramatic. “Now you’ll finally have a reason to be a royal pain in the ass.”
In any other situation, you may have laughed. The two of you aren’t strangers by any means, but you’ve always been closer with Namjoon. Seokjin has always been far more interested in the artisans in the forest town than what goes on in the castle. You wouldn’t begrudge him anything, but you also annoy the everloving hell out of each other.
True siblings, your father had once proudly declared. You hadn’t always been quite as confident as he was, but the fact that Seokjin is here now… well, maybe you’re closer than you’d thought.
“I uh…” he starts awkwardly, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes before rubbing his neck. “Got you something to take with you.” He lifts up the bag, gesturing with it slightly before handing it to you.
Confused, you take it. The handle of the bag is rough, the burlap tightly woven for strength even though the contents aren’t particularly heavy. Looking in the bag, you pull out a box that’s about the width and length of a book. It’s made of blackwood, the inky black surface polished into glass. There’s a seam that splits it in half, and two golden hinges on the left side. The front of the box is engraved, a gilded thistle stands resolute against the darkness. You slide open the latch on the side and open it. The box is empty, but there’s enough room to store things.
“It’s very pretty,” you tell him, closing the box gently and slipping the latch back into place.
Gently, Seokjin takes the box out of your hands, and with both thumbs, pushes the leaves on either side of the thistle stem. There’s a quiet sound of sliding wood, and when he opens the box again, a panel inside has been moved, and suddenly, there’s more room. He closes the lid, presses the flower of the thistle, and the sliding happens again.
He pushes the box back into your hands, his eyes not leaving yours. You have questions, but the intensity of his gaze says enough.
“How?” you ask finally. You doubt he just had this lying around.
He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I asked Haejeon to put a rush on it.”
You nod. Haejeon is one of the artisans in the forest town outside the castle walls. He makes games and trinkets. Your father has hired him many times to carve and build small ornaments out of blackwood, and he’s old enough to be your uncle, but when you were kids, he’d given Seokjin a puzzle box to play with, and ever since, your step-brother has been practically stuck to the man’s hip. Over the years, as Seokjin has gotten more and more interested in the creators and builders and artists, Haejeon has taken him under his wing in a way, offering guidance and friendship outside of the castle.
“Thank him for me. Tell him it’s beautiful.” You hope to God you won’t have reason to use the secret compartment.
A noise outside the door draws your attention, and for a brief moment, Seokjin stares at the dark wood. But then he nods. “Probably Yoongi,” he says lightly. But when he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll let you kids get back to it.”
But when he opens the door, it’s Namjoon that’s standing there. He’s still in his nightshirt, and a pair of warm, woolen pants hang a little crooked on his muscular legs.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up,” he says from the doorway, looking completely past Seokjin. You motion for him to enter, but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay long, I’m sure you still have plenty to do.”
“Namjoon,” you scold, barely any bite in your tone. Easily, he gives in, taking a few tentative steps into the room.
“I brought you this.” He holds out a book in your direction.
It’s bound in plain leather, and is neither particularly large nor particularly small. The pages are old and yellowed. The front cover is entirely non-descript, the only real identifying feature to the outside simply the word ‘Lin’ stamped on the spine.
You open it, and immediately you recognize it as one of the handful of tomes from Castle Blackwood’s library that details your family history. Its handwritten pages go back thousands of years, back to when Seinal Lin first settled the Westerlands.
“I thought that maybe you’d want it. To tell them about us.”
He doesn’t have to say who he means. If this turns out the way most royal weddings do, you aren’t sure when you’ll see your family again. These people who have been your life and your heart for over two decades will more than likely be strangers to any children you may have. This history that Namjoon has given you is more than just a book. It’s a reminder of who you are. It’s a lifeline.
Suddenly, you feel like you’re breaking apart again, but you fight it off, pulling Namjoon into a tight hug. He makes a noise of surprise but after a second, his arms tighten around you. You stand there for a moment, unwilling to pull away, and soon, you feel another body press against your side. Seokjin’s arms wrap around you both, and now you couldn’t pull away, even if you wanted to.
As quick as it came, the moment passes.
“We should let you get back to it,” Namjoon says softly, a hand still on your arm.
They both nod solemnly, and then, just like that, you’re alone.
The silence is unbearable, the soft crackling of the wall sconces deafening as you’re left alone with your thoughts. Thanks to Yoongi’s earlier efforts, your things are packed, so there isn’t much left to do. You pull out your desk chair and sit, picking up your quill and twirling it between your thumb and forefinger. Thoughts swirl in your mind, and you pick up a piece of parchment.
Once you start writing, you can’t stop, and the words flow out of you as quick as you can write them down. You’re mid-word when there’s a knock at your door, and you hurry to finish and sand the ink.
“Come in,” you call, blowing across the page to get rid of the sand and excess ink.
You have the parchment folded by the time the door opens. Your suspicions are confirmed when a dark head of hair pokes in. Yoongi. He enters slowly, almost silently, and sits on the edge of your bed, watching curiously as you hold a dark green wax stick, melting it with the flame of a candle. You press your seal into the warm wax, removing it quickly before it can stick. The thistle stamp glistens in the candlelight, the wax still soft. You leave it to dry and turn your attention to Yoongi.
His gaze follows your every move, dark eyes soft with fondness. You pretend not to see the redness and puffiness that accompanies it. Silently, he reaches out, catching your hand in his own to tug you toward him. His arms hook around your legs, keeping you close.
“Father asked me to tell you they’re close,” he says softly, a pained look crossing his face briefly. “Word was sent from the first guard post.”
You hum and nod, running your hands through his hair. He’s changed his clothes, but his hair’s still a little tousled from your earlier romp. There’s still some time–the first guard post is at the bottom of the mountain, where the forest is still a thin stand of trees–but suddenly, your heart is in your throat. It hadn’t felt real, not really, but now… You push his hair back off his forehead once again and swallow thickly in an attempt to hold yourself together.
“I love you.” It just kind of bubbles to the surface, quiet but necessary.
He squeezes the back of your thigh, a soft, “I love you more,” on his lips. After another moment, he releases you. “You should change,” he says quietly, standing.
He’s almost to the door when you stop him. “Stay.” You aren’t sure why you say it, but he freezes in place. “Please,” you add. And, after a brief moment of consideration, he nods.
You dress quickly, pulling on a pair of trousers and a new tunic, barely checking to make sure they match. Yoongi helps you with your corset, his deft fingers having no trouble with the laces this time round. When he’s done, you pull him close, wrap your arms around him tightly.
You are determined to not let go of him until you have to.
“Hey,” he says softly, leaning back away from you ever so slightly. Your hands stay around his waist, but he brings his hands between you to tug at the ring on his littlest finger. Carefully, he pulls your hand away and places the ring in your palm, closing your fingers around it.
“What-?”
“Take this,” he says, squeezing your fist.
You inspect the ring. It’s funny, you’ve seen it before–you’ve played with his hands countless times, looked at it while it was on his finger–but it’s like this is the first time you’re actually seeing it. It’s silver, the flat face of it etched with a shield, a sword standing at attention in its center. On either side of the ring’s face, thistle flowers bloom along the band.
“Yoongi,” you protest. You don’t want to take his signet ring. It’s the crest of the Min family, the ring serves as a seal to press into wax. He needs it.
He insists. “Keep it. Don’t wear it if you don’t want to, but I want you to have it. To remember.”
“As if I could forget.”
Yoongi smiles at that, a soft, somber smile that curves his lips but doesn’t meet his eyes.
The quiet that settles is interrupted rather rudely by the door opening. A head of dark hair and Yoongi’s sharp eyes peer in at you. It’s Jaesung.
“Lord John asked me to fetch you both,” he says, and you can sense the anger barely concealed in his voice. “They’ll be here soon.”
Yoongi nods, but you can feel him let out a sigh.
“Shall I grab your trunk?” Jaesung asks, gesturing to the now full case behind you. It’s probably heavy, but you nod anyway. You’ve seen him lift heavier before, and you trust him to know his limits. You pick up Seokjin’s box and press the leaves, slipping Yoongi’s ring into the compartment before shutting it back up and stashing the whole thing in your trunk.
Yoongi trails behind you, his fingers grasped loosely in your own as you slowly and begrudgingly make your way through the castle. The wall sconces have been extinguished and the shutters have been thrown open, bathing the stone hallways in morning light. Instead of taking the back stairs you did last night–the ones which go past Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s chambers down to Yoongi’s–you follow the plush carpet down the hall to the grand stairs. They curve around the main hall, criss-crossing from front to back.
You pause at the first landing, just above the grand entrance. Yoongi stops almost immediately, his head falling to one side in confusion.
“Take this,” you say softly, handing him the letter from earlier.
“But-”
“Take it,” you insist, pressing it into his chest. “Don’t read it now. Give it a day or two. Please.”
Your eyes meet his, and silently, you plead with him. For a moment, he stands firm, his grip on your wrist tight. But then he relents, shoulders sagging, and nods. “Fine,” he says, taking the letter from your grasp and stuffing it into his pocket.
The heavy blackwood main doors of the castle are at least double your height, and they stand wide-open now. Your father and step-mother are in the courtyard, you can see them out by the centuries-old blackwood tree that stands sentinel in front of the castle. You’d spent many days of your childhood climbing its thick boughs, throwing seeds down to pelt Namjoon as he sat in the shade and read. Usually, the courtyard is bustling with people–from the castle, from the forest town, visitors–but now, aside from your father and step-mother, it’s completely empty.
“Stop pacing, love,” your step-mother says. She sits in a chair just to the left of the sentinel tree. She must not be feeling as well today. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
“I fear it’s too late for that, Sara, my dear” your father mumbles. And when he looks up, he sees you and Yoongi approaching. “Ah.” He outstretches an arm, beckoning you forward.
When you’re close enough, your step-mother grabs your free hand, enveloping it in her own. Her hands are cold, and there’s no real strength to her grip. Yoongi stands close behind you, his chest practically touching your back as you hold the gaze of your step-mother.
“Brave girl,” she says softly.
“The towers sent word ahead of time. The envoy is in a hurry to get back to the Ironhold,” your father tells you. He’s stopped his pacing and now stands beside your step-mother’s chair. “We wanted to have time to say goodbye.”
You frown. Already, the king is not making a good impression on you. Between the sudden letter and the incoming envoy that feels more like an abduction than a transport, you’re certain that this is the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life. And yet, as you look back and forth between your father and step-mother, as you hold Yoongi’s hand, you know it’s probably also–unfortunately–the right one.
Your father comes forward, his big hands cupping your cheeks. “You are smart,” he tells you, voice low. “You are strong. You are kind. Give ‘em hell.” He kisses your forehead and lets you go, turning almost immediately and walking toward the castle entrance to watch the road. You don’t miss the glisten in his eyes.
Your step-mother pats your hand. “I don’t think he will ever let this go. The Ironhold may say they’re doing this for the good of our two families, but…” She sighs. “I fear they’ve made an enemy out of the west.” She meets your gaze again, honeyed dark eyes big and sad. “Don’t let them dull you.”
Carefully, she reaches up and unpins a brooch from the front of her dress. It’s beautiful–you’ve admired it since you were a kid. A mother-of-pearl thistle blossom inset into an oval of ebony blackwood. She stands, a little unsteadily at first, and you reach out to help her gain her balance. Without looking up, she pins the brooch to your tunic, right over your heart.
You hear the hoofbeats before you see the envoy, the clattering of a carriage and several horses enough to draw anyone’s attention. Jaesung arrives just in time; he and Namjoon place your trunk just under the tree beside your step-mother’s chair. Like a spectre, Seokjin appears to your left. They all huddle closer when the first horse appears at the gates.
It’s not really that large of a traveling party–two men on horseback, a carriage with its driver, and a supply wagon–but the sight of it has your stomach churning all the same. You’re glad you didn’t take time for breakfast, or you might actually be sick. Yoongi presses closer, your entwined hands hidden behind your back.
One of the riders dismounts–you assume the steward–and approaches your father. They shake hands, and you can see the man’s gaze flick to you as they talk. Yoongi squeezes your hand. After a moment, they come closer. Your father’s face is grave, almost ashen, as he gestures for you.
The whole exchange is silent. You dare not look at Yoongi, too afraid that if you do, you’ll falter or worse. But as you step forward, he refuses to let go of your hand. Only until you’re physically too far away does he loosen his grip, and as soon as his fingers are out of your grasp, you miss him.
Your trunk gets moved to the carriage. The steward shakes your father’s hand again. Namjoon hugs you. Seokjin kisses your forehead. You’re passed around your father and step-mother and Jaesung. You refuse to look at Yoongi. And then it’s over. And you have nothing left to do but get in the carriage.
The inside of the carriage looks lavish, with soft velvet covering the bench and luxurious curtains covering the windows. But when you actually get in, the bench is hard, and the fabric over the windows leaves the carriage dark and confining. It’s impossible to see out, but you do your best, pulling the fabric away from the window and shoving your face against the wood of the wall.
They stand there, everyone you hold close, clumped together. The carriage jolts forward, and even though they can’t see you, you wave. Yoongi is the only one that lifts his hand, and you hold his gaze until the carriage enters the forest town and you can no longer see him.
Your heart hurts, and somewhere, deep inside your soul, you feel something breaking.
prev. | masterlist | next
your support means a whole lot, especially now when I'm low on energy and time. grad school is hell, but I wanted to post this to give us both some joy. please let me know your thoughts. I hope to finish this sometime this century, so please look forward to the next two parts!
⇢ Summary: Your loyal and committed bodyguard who sometimes spends more hours a day of what you pay him sticking beside you, starts to catch feelings for you.
⇢ Word count: 11.7k
⇢ Trope: Yandere bodyguard x popstar female reader, slow burn, smut (not for this part)
⇢ Warnings: forced proximity, two people who hate each other sharing home, yandere behavior, over-protection, vague alcohol issues, anxiety issues, there's a stalker harassing and threatening oc, physical violence, threats.
⇢ thvlouvre's note: this took me ages to finish, but I'm very happy I made it in spite of everything. I hope this fic matches your expectations and know for sure part two is coming sooner than ever, I just wanted to give you all something. I want to thank the lovely and kind @jjkeverlast and the sweetest @moonchild-your-eyes for their support 💖🙏🏻
⇢ Songs: paint the town read by doja cat. angel by the weeknd. you're making me high by toni braxton. (they will make sense later)
⇢ Main masterlist | Nex Part | The Bodyguard's Moodboard. OC's Moodboard.
“Put me down! Now!” You screamed with your face looking down at his rear. Your closed fists hit his back and your body bounced under the rhythm of his hurried steps. It was always like this, you would always end up on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes he would carry to your car, the same car he would always end up driving.
“I told you we would leave in five minutes and I gave you six, I’m in a good mood today” Yoongi had pulled you from the knees and lifted you like a rag doll at the moment the club’s loud music the flashing lights made him sick. And you were already drunk enough to have the strength and fight him.
“This is outrageous! I am your boss, you should follow my orders, not the other way and if I want to dance till dance, I will dance all night!” Young took out your car keys from his pockets, and now he was pushing the alarm buttons to unlock the door.
“And let you embarrass yourself again? I remember you the last time that they uploaded those drunk pictures of you on the internet you cried for two days.” he opened the copilot seat where he put you inside as if your body was light luggage, he locked the safe-belt like a toddler.
“Ugh, why do you have to be so stiff always? Always remember me all the things that can go wrong” You are conscious that your party dress, short and tight was stretching over your thighs but you didn’t care anymore, you felt sleepy out of nowhere. You yawn once he got inside the driver’s seat and turned on the car “And I cried because those pictures were unfavorable, the blue light does not go with my skin tone, I looked orange”
“Sure.” Yoongi suppressed a low laugh and drove silently, watching you over the corner of his eye how slowly your eyelids closed with the rock of the car moving around Los Angeles streets. While he drove in silence, he remembered the wild and imprudent way you acted that night, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while, drinking so fast and eating so little. As if you wish you could forget about everything for a moment.
He allowed himself to smile when the sound of your snores bounced inside your convertible Porsche, and he asked himself how such a musically gifted creature could make such an animal snore. Then you arrived at your house, Yoongi parked your car inside your private garage and he found himself in the dilemma of waking you or carrying you to your bedroom. He would always end up doing the second thing, he took your body out of the car and carry you to your room where he put you in the bed above the sheets after taking off your high heels.
That night you picked gladiator sandals, the endless ribbons were tangled all over your legs and felt invasive. Usually, your heels were easy to take off, a buckle around the ankle and you're done, but the sandal’s ribbons were long and the not in your knees was tight, it took him more time than planned. He told himself that if he felt uncomfortable was because he was causing that awkwardness and he couldn’t give himself the luxury of feeling intimated by your presence because the moment his will hesitated terrible things could happen.
Speaking of bad things that could happen, after coming out of your bedroom where you were peacefully sleeping, he found baffling material inside your kitchen trash can—a black envelope that he was sickly familiarized with.
"My dear, _____. It’s been a while since the last time I wrote you, did you miss me?"
And annexed to the regular letter was the awaited photography. Yoongi recognized it, it had been taken three or four days ago when he accompanied you to Rodeo Drive to buy and try on some clothes.
So that was why you started to drink again. Your anxiety was returning.
He cursed inside his mind and took a protocol walk around your mansion, going around the perimeter and making sure everything was in order and the doors were locked. He felt sorry you didn’t have enough trust in him and told him right away when the letter arrived. He knew you have been carrying this weight since before he worked for you as your security boss, but still, he had to know about this.
Your nightmare started a year ago. The letters had arrived one after one, slow but constantly. At first, they were harmless, a little bit risqué but slightly a little more intense than the average that would be delivered to you.
They were dark and visceral, full of passion and devotion to your work that even if it seemed a little alarming, you found it flattering. A person, a nameless and faceless follower would send magazine clippings and short messages that could be read in a very literal way.
"My precious _____, your music gives me life, I’d rather stick out my own eyes than stop listening to you"
“Dear ____. Thanks to you I quit my shitty job, I will follow your advice about doing what we are passionate about, and my passion it’s you.”
At first, you found it touching, your messages and your voice were moving people’s hearts, people who found your music attractive. You always deep down thought that your image as a singer had been constructed in base on your physique and, since the majority of critiques would write in the music tabloids, you were more publicity than artistic craft. A pretty face and a fine body with a mic and a great agent.
“Surprise, surprise! _____, I will move to L.A. with you! You will see me often, baby, we can finally be together.”
“My dreams of being the one who controls your voice are a day closer to becoming true each time, ____. Please wait for me.”
You started to feel afraid, because… why would a fan of yours would want to control your voice? You ignored how subtly his letters started to become more and more disturbing and how the calligraphy was turning more and more unreadable as if they wrote them in the middle of a crisis and his hand couldn’t control the pen. But you have received so many letters at your studio by that time, you would recognize the letter and the way to speak to you by miles.
After three months of receiving those letters, it started to get violent. After you went out for a coffee with one of your friends, Adam Noriega a famous basketball player whom you have been friends with for a long time. Contrary to what others thought and what the media would write, you two shared a real friendship, because you were the only one who knew his most intimate secret, one not even his agent knew. Adam was into boys.
“I saw you went out yesterday with the basketball player, first a coffee shop now a party, what’s next?”
“Was it necessary for you to include such a nasty verse in your last song? You didn’t need that cheap rapper. Each day I am more disappointed with the course your career is taking, and I have more reasons to keep that voice to myself forever”.
Also, when you wanted to collaborate with male artists or record content for your social media with male influencers you would always receive a letter 48 hours later, where they would threaten him and the boy. The magazine scratches that were delivered to you, the same scratches that would always be trimmed so delicately were now torn with an ‘x’ drawn on your eye sockets; the fan would even send on purpose full-size scratches of your whole body with the piece of paper split in your neck.
As moths were by, the letters started to turn more and more threatening, with such a precise redaction that could even make you feel guilty. Didn’t you have the right of going out with people and having a life? For a moment you thought you didn’t, that you owned your love to your fans and that hurting their fidelity and their feelings was being unfaithful to them.
The paranoia started to take over you and, fortunately, your agent noticed it. She noticed you were sleeping under lock and key, closed windows and your white and summerish curtains were replaced with dark tainted ones that did not let see through them inside your home; she notices you were arriving tired to your rehearsals, you started to reject collaborations with male artists and each day you were refusing a little bit more about going to the studio and record. You were hesitating about leaving your official places, and you even wanted to be accompanied to the convenience store, but above all, your agent noticed you hated opening your fan mail. Something that gave you so much happiness, such as your follower’s words of encouragement, was now making you pale and nauseous.
Your agent Whitney started to open your mail herself and at first, she noticed the regular letters until she ran with black envelopes with chilling content. She called you over the phone, questioning you about why you never told anything about it, you were supposed to trust her.
“Whitney, I swear it isn’t a big deal. It’s been months since I received those letters and nothing has happen, trust me it might be just a bore dude seeking attention and that’s precisely why I decided to ignore it, no one has free promo” you alleged via phone, and even when Whitney couldn’t see you, she knew you were drinking in spite of be 11 a.m.
“It isn’t a big deal? ____, this person is threatening you, their pendent of each move you make, they find out the places you go and go there before paparazzi themselves, this is worrying me.”
“You see? Surely it’s one of those shitty paparazzi who are always harassing me, they just want to scare me and sell those pictures of me.”
Whitney took a look at the pictures she saw, and even when some of them coincide with the same places and dates where the paparazzi had followed you, those pictures didn’t seem to be taken by a photographer. The person should have been more discreet because your face and body looked closer, y without the dilated lens. Almost as if they were behind you and you didn’t notice.
“I don’t think so, ____. These pictures they took of you are different from the paparazzi’s ones, they must have taken this with a cell phone, besides these are angels I’ve never seen, closer to you, it looks like they were two tables away from you” she said looking at the coffee shop photos where you were with Adam and Julie, your actress friend whom you seemed to like very much.
Your spine felt goosebumps after gearing your agent’s words; like you hadn’t checked your mail in weeks you knew those black letters have been accumulating and surely there were more unseen threatening pictures and scratches of you. You found it disgusting knowing he was close to you just two days ago, when you were out with Adam and Julie, speaking about her wedding plans.
Whitney did not ask about it, she simply started to move her contacts and hired a private investigator who is specialized in threats. The man said that those letters were not being delivered by mail, not only because they lacked a return address or stamp, but because there were no records in the Los Angeles parcel service about those envelopes being sent, it was as if they were personally leaving them overnight at your record label's facilities.
The man also told Whitney that while he finds out more about the intentions or the seriousness of the matter, she should not put your life at risk and give the stalker the benefit of the doubt; You should have a bodyguard.
"She hates bodyguards," Whitney told the detective.
“I think she would hate her more if her throat was cut like the scratches they send her” the man replied wryly.
"You don't know her, I love her like a younger sister, but she is obnoxious, if I give her a bodyguard she will make my life miserable as only she knows how to do it"
"If you love her so much, then you will understand that even I find these letters alarming, these are not simple death threats on the Internet, there is a person following her every step she takes, waiting for the slightest slip to attack her" the detective explained that it was enough to a window of yours open at night, an approach with a man from the industry or even a trip to the supermarket and your life could be in danger.
“I know a man, someone I used to work with on investigations. He retired a while ago, and now he's a paid private security agent” he took out a file, the man's resume, and the list of names he had worked for being examined by Whitney.
"He has protected from presidents to peace officers, he has dual nationality and is an expert in martial arts and the use of firearms" The detective, who knew the bodyguard as well as his son, spoke of him with pride "He is loyal, committed and would risk his body for his bosses, he can also help me with the investigation and get this rat to jail faster."
Whitney's eyes darted over the lines in the file.
Min Yoongi.
30 years. Korean-American. Certificate of 1000 hours of private security service. Certificate of 500 hours of Tae Kwon Do training. Certificate in firearms use for personal defense. State medal for the defense of civilians. Medal for bravery during situations of social anxiety. National medal for civil defense.
"He seems good," Whitney sighed.
"He's good" corrected the detective.
“Too good to end up taking care of a rude brat, don’t you think he'd hate it if he ended up taking care of my ____. She wouldn't even agree to pay him such an amount."
"Then pay him, if you wish, I'm not going to impose his services if you're unsure, but one thing I can tell you is that if Yoongi works with me, we could solve this case in three months and take care of your client"
Whitney didn't think twice, and she told herself that once the stalking asshole was arrested, she would write you a check for Yoongi's fee, but for now she would cover those expenses. She will never forget your indignant face when one Thursday at noon, when you were in your garden long chair, she gave you the good news that you would now have a bodyguard.
“Are you fucking kidding?" You laughed indignantly.
“No, he will be here in 30 minutes. Steven told me that he was formal and very punctual, so put on some decent clothes please, you won't expect him to find you in a bikini” he threw a towel at you to cover yourself.
“That’s why I hate bodyguards, why do I have to control myself in my own home? I'm not paying him for invading my privacy.” You tossed the towel away down your long chair, your body once again exposed to the cool summer breeze.
“I remind you that someone else is already invading your privacy, a stalker. And you are not going to pay him, I will"
"How are you going to pay him?" you asked confused.
"His salary is already covered for three months, it is what the detective calculates that it can take to track down the stalker”
"Please don't call him that, it just makes everything feel more real" You put your hand on your temples with concern, regretting how Whitney made such a decision without your consent.
"____, cutie, it's for your safety, just a few months, okay?" You agreed, and at that moment you wrote her a check for the three months' salary that she had already given to your future bodyguard.
“25 thousand dollars?!”
"That's already the three months' salary." Whitney tried to calm you down.
"Does the bastard have wings or what?"
Whitney was about to list his achievements and certificates to you when a quiet, guttural voice answered behind you two.
"I don't have wings, but I know how to drive planes and helicopters at short distances in emergency situations" You both jumped scared at the young and attractive-looking man who appeared behind the chair in the garden.
"And who are you?" you spoke quickly.
"____, this is Min Yoongi, your new bodyguard" Whitney spoke after taking a deep breath to calm her shock "Yes, you're sneaky like Steven said"
"How did you get in?" you asked puzzled, the main entrance was locked with the security PIN, and the door was right in front of your eyes from your place in the garden, how did you not see him enter?
“I got in by the back door” he pointed to the door on the yard corner, the one you always forget to lock “You should keep it closed.”
“Couldn’t you wait for us to open the main door?” Great, he just had been in your house for a minute and you already disliked him.
“I knocked twice, I hate when people make me wait.” He put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. He was not what you expected, you imagined a middle-aged man, gray-haired and tired. When Whitney told you that he was a retired ex-service agent, you didn't quite know what she meant by it, but you pictured someone old, Morgan Freeman-esque.
Yoongi, he looked young. Of thin appearance and a fine, delicate face. The suit was neat and tailored, his long, shiny hair brushed back, leaving his face uncovered except for a single unruly strand of hair escaping from his forehead. He could have been a model if he wanted to, but he had chosen to be a bodyguard. If not for a scar that covered his right eye from a couple of centimeters above his eyebrow to his cheek vertically.
“Didn't you say he was a retired ex-agent? I thought we'd have a grandfather, not an ex-wannabe rock band vocalist” you whispered close to Whitney's ear but she ignored you, pulling an envelope with your house plans and more from her bag.
You didn't mind running your eyes shamelessly over Yoongi's body, he was different and memorable. You were expecting a giant and hunky bodyguard, someone who could easily intimidate you and that's why you rejected the idea originally, not that now you would agree with the idea of someone else watching over you day and night, but there was something about Yoongi that put you in a situation difficult to explain.
He looked interesting. And it wasn't that you considered yourself an inherently lewd person who went around scanning men up and down but you couldn't take your eyes off him. You thought it would be easier to hate him if he was ugly, but no, the man had to be a bomb.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Min, the doorbell inside doesn't ring out here, we didn't notice" You and Yoongi didn't say a word, you heard Whitney talking in the distance but you and him had entered a silent contest of stares where you scolded him for being the unwanted intruder in your daily life, and he returned the insolence telling you that he would only do his job.
Apparently, Yoongi didn't notice that you were in your underwear, the delicate fabric of the red bikini only covered your private areas and was held up by strings that were tied. But it seems that he didn't even notice it, because he only looked at your face and nothing else.
Whitney gave him the first letters that had come to you and then gave him the last ones that had come to you. Yoongi noticed something specific when she paid attention to the paper on the cards.
"He is a cashier, he must be a cashier" she mentioned, confirming that the notes written in a fast and tormented way were indeed all written with the same paper.
“It is a blank banknote roll, they are using ticket paper”
Yoongi took the evidence with Steven that day, and you gave him the guest room that was in the garden for him to stay there. Originally you used that room just for your garden tools, but there was space in it for a bed, a dresser, a small chest, and a desk. Yoongi requested that a monitor be placed there to have access to your home's security cameras.
This is how your working relationship with Yoongi had started, he was the first to read the letters that arrived. It saved you the pain of seeing how far they had been following you and reading the threatening messages one more time. You discovered that he was good at doing his job, he was a serious and focused man. Cool-headed when it came to watching you and not even the most tender of your pouts would make the man get away from you, neither at parties, nor in bars, nor your outgoings to cafes. Forget about privacy in the mall, you tried on clothes with him standing outside the dressing room door making sure no one disturbed you.
It was annoying how much he worked.
Every day at 6 in the morning he walked in your garden to check the perimeter and took the opportunity to do his exercise routine. At seven he would take his dog for a walk, Yoongi had a German shepherd named Pete who was his loyal and only friend; he'd rush back to the house knowing that the lady who cooked and did your laundry would be home early, so you wouldn't be alone.
He always wore a suit, always had his perfectly ironed black pants, his black or white dress shirt, and on top of that the suit jacket and vest. Sometimes it bothered you how simplistic and little varied his wardrobe was, you could swear that the man went to the nearest tailor to ask for seven identical suits; but he looked so good in them it was hard to find it frustrating.
Yoongi had one day off a week, where Steven came to replace him while he talked to you about the progress of the investigation and received his weekly payment. He would always disappear on Sundays, leaving as early as seven in the morning and returning by 11 at night, if not later. When you tried to be a bit of a gossip and inquire into his personal life, the man would turn you around and change the topic of conversation.
You didn't make it any easy for him, you were horrible to him at first.
After all, you had a reputation as a spoiled star to maintain.
You made him carry your shopping bags when he stuck like a sticker and accompanied you from boutique to boutique. You made him take care of your bag when you went around the nightclub, you even stepped on him with your stilettos when you pretended not to see that he was behind you while you danced in the center. You bought him a mochaccino latte with two shots of espresso and put it in his thermos of black coffee.
“What did you do to my coffee?” He said with his eyebrow raised as you watched him mischievously from across your living room, your chai latte and tablet on your lap.
"Nothing, why?" You denied, returning the gaze innocently.
“What did you put in it? Is it any of your disgusting saturated-with-sugar frappes?”
“It's not a frappe if it's hot, duh” you rolled your eyes and laughed at his nonsense “It's just a nice mochaccino latte with two shots of espresso and almond milk.”
Yoongi knew what your intentions were every time you bothered him, every time you behaved in a hostile and tantrum manner, you wanted him to leave, you wanted him to run away and return your 25 thousand dollars that, although you didn't need them, you were bothered to pay, because you never wanted a bodyguard.
To your surprise, Yoongi didn't reproach you, he downed the moccacino in front of you in one go despite his dislike for milk and excess of sugar. He put the thermos in front of you and slowly approached you to say:
“Thank you very much, ____, it was delicious, who would have thought you would be so kind” he left you alone in the living room that day, but despite his distance you put a pillow on your face to scream because that man was relentless, his temper and Patience was apparently bulletproof. No matter how hateful you could be towards him, he would take it.
You decided that your first few missions hadn't worked, so now you would start bothering him in worse ways. One Thursday night when you had no plans or events to exist around, you thought about calling Sean, a former dancer who worked for you on your previous tours; He had left the stage because he finally started his own dance studio and was doing well with it.
But he did more things for you on tour than just dancing. He treated you well, without love and affection involved; The limits were well marked and he respected them, your body was his to touch when they were in bed and vice versa, outside of this you and he were limited to business.
“Is ____ here?” Sean asked at the garden gate, where you had specifically told him to come in so Yoongi would see him.
“Who is looking for her?” Yoongi asked, taking a look at the guy: tanned skin, athletic physique, sports clothes and messy hair, he looked like he just woke up.
“Just tell her Sean's here, man.” Yoongi didn't like his condescending attitude, he wasn't your butler or your doorman to guard your door every time someone came looking for you, but nevertheless, he knew he had to have control over all the people who would come to your house looking for you, especially with the crazy man loose around.
“In a moment,” Yoongi answered dryly and proceeded to close the door in his face. He pressed the intercom buttons and spoke into the microphone:
“____, there's a Drake wannabe out here looking for you” his dry voice sounded in the kitchen where you were writing and you laughed because Sean was actually a Drake wannabe.
“Let him in, please,” your honeyed voice sounded and Yoongi rolled his eyes at your high-pitched tone.
Yoongi didn't answer, he opened the garden door and extended his arm for him to enter. Sean walked in with a noticeable frown at Yoongi's negativity.
“Since when does ____ have a doorman?” He said entering the garden.
“I'm not a doorman, I'm her security boss.” Yoongi slammed the door and entered the security codes to keep the doors locked like he had suggested you to do.
“You are his bodyguard.” Sean tried to make him feel bad, but Yoongi had been through so much that he himself thought that being a bodyguard was the most comfortable thing in his life, he earned a lot, it was still similar to his previous jobs and his anonymity was safe.
“Bodyguard, security boss, babysitter, whatever you want to call it but I make sure she is well, I monitor everyone who approaches her.” The authoritative tone Yoongi used with you showed to the brown-eyed male and Sean would be lying if he said the guy wasn't scary, with the scar across his eye and expressionless face.
When Sean found you in your kitchen, drinking coffee and writing on the counter, he smiled because he hadn't seen you in a while. You stopped needing him when your health improved, and although it made him happy to see you, he didn't like to see that there was something wrong in your life.
“Hey,” he greeted, biting his smile, he missed your curves and the smell of your hair.
"Hello, how are you?" You greeted back, approaching with your arms extended familiarly, It had been a long time since you felt the touch of a man and you missed it.
“I'm fine but not finer than you,” he winked at you flirtatiously like he used to, and that side of Sean always made you laugh, always trying to win you over to see if he could officially have the “pop girl” of the moment. Luckily for you, you were always direct with him. He wasn't your type, in fact you didn't even know what your type was, it was one of the many things you had to find out about yourself.
“Your new bodyguard… that guy is scary, he closed the door in my face” he said, closing his arms around your waist, the orange lights bathed you both in warmth, even if the darkness of the garden filtered through the window of the kitchen. You tried to suppress a laugh because that sounded like something Yoongi would clearly do.
“Yes, he’s kind of intimidating, that's his style” you placed your face on his chest looking towards the garden, it was already late and you didn't like the darkness but since Yoongi lived in your house, the utility room always had the lights on. Sometimes you could see his silhouette moving inside his room when he had the window open that faced the house. You didn't feel so alone in that huge mansion anymore.
You kept looking at the orange light in Yoongi's room, hoping that he would peek in and see how much fun you were having with Sean's lips on your neck, but the silhouette of your bodyguard did not appear in your vision and you were disappointed because a very deep and sinister part of you wanted him to see you with another man, maybe then he would stop being so dry with you.
Sean's hands began to wander further below your waist and just when you closed your eyes to enjoy his touch, the much-awaited Yoongi looked out his window to close it and finally sleep. He saw yours that guy’s silhouette in the distance, both leaning on your kitchen counter. He didn't care, if you trusted him he didn't mind you having fun, but Yoongi would be lying if he didn't think that Sean guy was kissing you wrong. Like a horny frat boy, very fast and eager.
He could do it better.
Ugh, no, God. Yoongi couldn't think that, for many obvious reasons.
One, and the most important one, you were his boss, he had to make sure you were safe and sound so he would receive the check from him when he finished the investigation. Two, you were unbearable, capricious, and superficial as shit, a delicate little princess who kept getting in his way to work and distracting him. Three, you were out of his league. Clearly, he wasn't your type and you weren't his. Yoongi shook his head, eliminating the intrusive thoughts about whether or not to kiss his boss.
After a month of having Yoongi as a paid and unwanted guest in your home, was that you got to knew his relentlessness. You had sneaked away without telling him where you were going, you decided you were going to Adam's house in the middle of the night for a friend’s talk; you had to tell him everything that was stressing you out with a glass of wine, also you wanted to get out of your home. Going out alone, specifically. You took an Uber because if Yoongi saw your convertible leaving the house he would cut you off in the middle of the street, that man always appeared and disappeared left and right, it was as if he could teleport.
You arrived in the Uber at Adam's house, in yoga pants and a hoodie that belonged to Sean four times bigger than yours. Adam suggested ordering Italian food so you could pick it up, he thought it was necessary for you to get some fresh air since he had never seen you so pale.
“Honey, I think your agent is right on this occasion” he tried to tell you gently when you were crossing a park two blocks away from the restaurant, it was dark and since it was after midnight there were no people around you “I think it's better to have someone looking out for you if there is a stalker all over you.”
“I hate having someone watching me, do you know how hateful it is to have to tell him every time I want to go out and have him stick beside me like a little school girl?”
“I know honey, but it's necessary. Does he know you’re here?” Adam raised an eyebrow at you, knowing you had surely run away.
“No, and don't you dare to give me shit about this, I need a break for the love of God” you began to rub your palms over your face in desperation, Adam had placed his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly when a sound of branches and photoshoots noises sounded not too far from you two. Your bodies tensed, it was a sound you were both familiar with. You looked at each other, confirming that it wasn't a hallucination and that you had really heard the same thing.
"What was that?" You whispered paranoid. Looking at your surroundings.
“I don't know, but keep moving, it won't take long until we make it to the restaurant” you began to walk quickly, the darkness and desolation of the park no longer consoled none of you, it scared you both because the camera was about five or seven meters away. It kept ringing and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up because something told you it was him.
The noise of some branches and a loud struggle caught your attention and you stopped when they heard a man cursing at loud. You both turned to look back.
“Ouch! What's wrong man? My camera, ahhh!” A camera flew behind the bushes and then two bodies fighting fell as well, struggling until a robust, mustachioed guy was left face down and another thin, pale-skinned guy was on top pressing his weight to keep him against the ground.
It was Yoongi, you recognized his thin body and his stealth.
He wasn't wearing his 'uniform', the black suit and tie were left at home and now he was in jeans, with a mint and white sports jacket, a red dragon embroidered on the back. The embroidery seemed important.
“What have I told you about not telling me when you want to go out?” he looked at you both, his hands still battling with the photographer beneath him.
“Yoongi? God, let the man go!” Your voice came out broken and dry, showing how nervous you were of having been caught red-handed trying to run away from him.
“Pick up the camera, I want to see the photos” Yoongi said and you timidly approached close to the man's face where his camera was lying a few steps away.
“Wow, ____ but who is this?” Adam's flirtatious voice had come out for a walk after checking Yoongi out.
“My bodyguard” You answered dryly.
“____, honey, don't be a rude bitch and introduce me” Adam said, nudging you, his open smile and gaze fixed on your security boss.
Yoongi got up from the floor letting the man stand up. The man's cramped neck cracked and he groaned as he straightened it. Yoongi walked to you and snatched the camera out of your hands clearly annoyed with you for leaving without telling him and ignoring him.
“Give me that man, give me my camera” the photographer said but Yoongi pushed him again with one hand, without looking at him and sent him to the floor.
“Let's see what we have here.” He sighed opening the photos.
“Were you following me?!” you asked as Yoongi scanned the guy’s camera, ignoring your noises and complaining about how he found you. “How did you know where I was?”
“I have access to your Uber account, next time you sneak out try to close the back door.” “ he replied curtly, scolding you as if he hadn’t casually mentioned that he had access to your Uber account.
“Did you hack my phone?” you asked astonished, ignoring Adam who was drooling as he eyed Yoongi like you did the first time you met him.
“I would prefer the term track it, hacking is when you do it without consent.” Yoongi frowned when he saw the photos didn't look like the ones you got with the letters, these were regular paparazzi photos.
“But you don't have my consent, I never knew when you put a tracker on my phone” she alleged.
“It wasn't necessary, your agent had put a tracker on you before, I just asked for a copy.”
“Whitney?” Oh no, that explained how Whitney always found you at after-parties and clubs to take you out in the middle of the night.
“She suggested I track your phone because she told me you were sneaky, she wouldn't use it if you didn't sneak out in the middle of the night without saying anything.”
“Sometimes you need time alone without having to announce it from the rooftops,” you refuted, clearly annoyed. Your tone rising with each sentence of the conversation.
“In my contract I specified that I would take care of you all day because your situation is not a regular security protocol, you are under threat so it is my job to follow you” his eyes matched the height of yours and you both were screaming into each other’s faces.
"Contract!?”
“The one I gave you so you could read and know the working conditions, my clauses, and under what circumstances I am responsible for your safety and which ones I am not, did you even read it?”
“That bunch of papers? I simply signed it!” you said hesitantly, regretting that you had ignored him and signed it without reading what you were agreeing to.
“There I got your consent to have a copy of your phone tracker. And the permission to follow you even when you want to sneak away.” Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“Well, it was the middle of the night and I didn't want to wake you up,” you began to excuse yourself, still upset because you felt cheated in something that you yourself agreed to. “Besides, how would I know that you were still awake, huh? I'm no fortuneteller"
“When I tell you that I am in your care twenty-four hours six days a week, it is twenty-four hours a day, I don't sleep when it comes to your safety, you have to get used to the idea that you are at risk-”
“Can you give me my camera, my friend?” His heated discussion was interrupted by the man lying on the floor, surrendered to approach for his camera because of fear that Yoongi would push him again.
“SHUT UP!” You and Yoongi yelled at him at the same time, causing the guy to freeze on the asphalt.
Yoongi gave up when he saw that the paparazzi wasn't actually your stalker, if anything it was Adam's. There were videos of the paparazzi camping outside the basketball player's house to find something juicy to expose, she thought she had found something when she saw you and him leaving. Yoongi took out the memory from the device and threw the camera at the disgusting reporter.
“It seems that he wants to expose something yours…” Yoongi extended the memory to Adam and he picked it up without hesitation and with great excitement. He took the memory from his hand, and shook it enthusiastically.
“Nice to meet you, I'm Adam, a friend of ____, nothing more than just friends.” He said smiling, as Yoongi returned the handshake.
“Yoongi, the bodyguard.” Yoongi turned to the paparazzi and said three octaves lower, “Try not to follow people without their consent, If I see you around them again I'll report you.”
You and Adam froze in your spots, not believing that this was Yoongi's true nature, physically violent and not afraid to get dirty, verbally quick and cold. Everything in such a sweet face.
“Come on, you can keep going, I will give you your space to continue talking but I will follow you” Yoongi stayed in his place, watching the paparazzi run and you took the opportunity to take a very stunned Adam by the hand and pull him back to the path you were following.
When you moved forward a couple of meters, you were tense and quiet and Adam couldn't believe anything that just happened. When he saw you so upset about having a bodyguard, he imagined a robust and sweaty middle-aged man, not a young man with a doll face, an intimidating aura, and a voice to die for.
“How can you be upset about that Adonis is taking care of you twenty-four hours a day?” His whisper sounded stunned, he constantly looked back to where a casually dressed Yoongi walked calmly behind you. “Damn, he's gorgeous, do you think he likes boys?”
“I don't know, Adam, I prefer not to think about my bodyguard's sex life.”
“How bad, you should, he's the darkest and most sensual guy I've ever seen, if you don't want him I'll pay him to take care of me” he laughed discreetly, thinking of how many times you were God's chosen one and you didn't notice it.
After that day you didn't go out again without telling Yoongi, you had realized that it was useless anyway, so you preferred to send him a message telling him that you were going out and two minutes later he would appear at the door waiting to accompany you. Still, incessant fights and disagreements were the order of the day, Yoongi thought you were reckless, brash and selfish, you didn't know how to measure danger, and you thought he was uptight and emotionless, like a soldier.
Yoongi was starting to dislike you, with your very obvious intentions of making him quit, but the more he delved into the investigation, the more he noticed that the guy had been following you for more years than you thought, at night he would review all the letters you had received previously and he noticed that there were letters from three or four years ago that had the same stroke pattern on the letter 'r', and this fan telling you about long-term plans, like moving to Los Angeles, getting a better job and becoming a photographer.
It matched with the plans the stalker had.
Yoongi tracked down those two letters and noticed that they were from another country, and despite not having a sender, he believed that he could trace where those envelopes were from. Hopes and investigations were stopped within two months of having Yoongi working for you: the letters stopped coming, but Yoongi talked to you and Whitney and told her not to think it was because the stalker was satisfied, he had stopped because he knew that he was being investigated.
"What do you suggest?" Whitney asked.
“The investigation will continue to progress, but it will be slower now, the stalker must have noticed that ____ now has private security and a detective hot on his heels, so he is proactively stopping from giving us evidence and making us back off so the police pause the investigation"
“Does that mean he's going to stop?” you sounded overly excited to have your life and safety back again, but Yoongi was sorry to tell you it wasn't the case.
“I doubt it, he will probably stop sending you letters for a while, but he will continue to follow you, he knows where you live, the places you visit, he knows who the people you hang out with, he knows everything about you, while we don't know anything about... ”
“Anything about him,” you finished, defeat permeating your voice.
“There is one month left to finish the contract.” Whitney brought up the elephant in the room.
“I understand if you don't want to renew it, but I think it is now more than ever when ____ has to be protected, the stalker is angry and without his letters we don't know his next step, we don't know where or when he is going to attack.”
Whitney and Yoongi were silent, waiting for your approval. As much as you hated the lack of your freedom, and you knew that Yoongi was not to blame for your situation, you would be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that your anxiety was more controllable now that Yoongi was home with you. You were sleeping more, drinking less, eating at time, and although it still bothered you that Yoongi knew what you were doing, with whom and where, after the night in the park, you felt safe.
No one would touch a strand of your hair without going through Yoongi first.
“I think we should renew the contract” you said, but Yoongi noticed that if you could you would say that you didn't want to see him in your life.
“Okay, I will send Whitney a new copy of the contract and my fees, please read it” Yoongi got up and walked to his cabin where he was sleeping in the garden.
Yoongi cleaned the new black envelope that was in the trash where he had found it, and decided the first thing he would do tomorrow morning was take it to Steve to examine it.
This letter was more threatening because it had been delivered directly to your home, not to your record label or your agent. This was getting personal, in the last few months you had improved so much, you looked so healthy and now this bastard showed up again and you decided to act like you used to. It was pissing him off that he couldn't catch the jerk, but he had to keep taking care of you; Steve would figure it out.
Yoongi decided not to take off his suit and go to his bedroom yet, he just took out his suit jacket and unbuttoned his open vest, loosening his tie a little; he preferred to stay inside your house a little longer, make sure that nothing interrupted your sleep and that you rested a little more. God knew he couldn't rest with this latent threat hanging over his head so he decided to do something that gave him relief.
The darkness of your living room surrounded Yoongi's exhausted silhouette. For a strange reason, being in your living room where photos of you, magazine covers, platinum records, awards and posters with your face gave him peace. He had found comfort and a safe place in you, to the point where a dark, psychotic side of him understood why someone would become obsessed with you and your voice. He was starting to do it himself.
He could stare at the poster of your Vogue magazine cover that you had hanging on the wall for hours. He would read each inscription on your awards and memorize the year, the category and the ceremony they were given to you. He had also seen all the photos you had, because you were the most self-centered brat he had ever met, of course you would have a million photos of yourself everywhere; If he were half as beautiful as you he would be worse.
But the main activity he loved to do in your living room when no one was watching, when you were sleeping peacefully, was to turn on your television on and watch yourself in it. He would play everything, music videos, live performances, live sessions, anything. All he wanted was to stay awake so he could protect you, and your voice was a shot of vitamins.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, turned on the screen, and tried to choose which video to play first. He recently loved the performance where you were just standing in the middle of the stage in a sparkling white dress and a microphone stand. No backup dancers, no weird lighting or difficult choreography, just you shining alone.
He couldn't explain to himself why he found peace in watching you sing, when during the day you and him were always trying to gouge each other's eyes out. You had a not so peaceful personality, you were annoying and childish as shit and he was dry and rigid. You were always missing out at parties, getting drunk and forgetting the normal rules of decent human behavior and he was always right behind you, ready to take you out before you could do something stupid, like tonight.
Yoongi was afraid the moment he saw your clear intentions to dance on the bar’s tables, he wouldn't allow it when you were wearing those damn gladeator sandals with 15-centimeter heels, he would prefer you to step on him rather than see how you got tangled. And he also didn't want them to post humiliating photos and videos of you again.
He never thought he'd end up like this, carrying a star's shopping bags after a five-hour marathon at the boutique. He used to have a dangerous and exciting job, he used to have a family, not a family related by blood, but a society that would take care of him. He had to make a decision to save himself and now there he was, drinking cold whiskey on your pink couch, watching you sing.
He thought you didn't know, that you hadn't noticed him sneaking out of his bedroom and heading to your living room where he played your videos, but you had. You noticed him almost from the beginning and that simple act seemed so endearing to you. You noticed it almost in the second month after he started working for you. Yoongi didn't know when you had gone from being a pain in the ass to an angel he wanted close to him all the time, but you did know when he had stopped being a burden to a body you wanted to climb in the darkness of the night and a man you wanted to get lost with inside his sheets.
It was a week after Yoongi's first three months ended and his contract was renewed. They had published some photographs and videos where you were dancing freely in the anonymity of a club, people had not realized it was you, but a bartender who recognized you took photographs and videos of you and sold them.
No one approached you in a threatening way that day, but Yoongi realized that he cared about you a little more every day when he felt guilty for not noticing that there was a club employee recording you and that he exposed you. Yoongi was never going to forget the sadness in your eyes when Whitney called you and sent you the links where the tabloid sites were making fun of you.
“_____, in her rebel era? Photos in a seedy bar show that the it girl singer of the moment is not in one relationship, but in many”
“Lock her up! _____, good girl gone bad, not even her bodyguard can control her.”
“Is there a club in LA that hasn't seen ______ drunk? The wildest singer in the industry strikes back again”
You were in the kitchen, bothering Yoongi for drinking black coffee with no milk and no sugar for the third time that week when you got the call from your agent and then looked up the sites on the internet that were roasting you.
What hurt you the most were the comments from people who watched it and reviewed the videos that shouldn't even exist, the photos that shouldn't have been taken, and the thousands of eyes watching something that was meant to be a private moment.
“LOL, doesn't a video of her come out every week?”
“Bring her back to the studio, she’s only good for singing”
“That happens when you have a child actress and you let her go astray to that point, it's better for her to focus on singing again.”
“the wildest singer in the industry? better say the sluttiest singer in the industry"
“she's getting cellulite, take the margaritas away lmao”
Yoongi next to you, could only see how your tears fell slowly one after another while those photos where you are bare-faced, sweaty and with a giant smile from side to side were taken as joke. Each comment you read was more hurtful than the previous one. Only your fans, your group of loyal followers were the ones who came to your defense.
“She is an adult woman who has the right to go out and have fun, why are they criticizing her like that?”
“If it were a male artist who had gone out partying alone, no one would have said anything, it's only because she is a woman”
“Why isn’t anyone criticizing the bartender who took those photos without her consent and sold them?”
Yoongi closed the computer and handed you a tissue. His throat had closed and his words came out hesitantly but he really felt the need to tell you:
"I'm sorry." His words were rough as you were used to from him, but his gaze was down, face sad, and hands in his pockets.
“Why are you sorry?” you asked him, somewhat stunned because Yoongi wasn't to blame for anything.
“Because I shouldn't have allowed you to get to that state, and I should have watched to see if anyone was recording,” he admitted and for the first time, you saw Yoongi a little less harsh. You didn't think he was faking it to make you feel better, and if he was, it worked.
“Yoongi is not your fault, really. This has happened to me since I was eighteen since I started going out to have fun, when I was a teenager the industry had me as the good girl, now I'm just... another little star who went out of control” you dried your tears with the crumpled handkerchief he gave you and you tried to stretch out to reach your computer.
“No,” he denied it to you, picking it up from the table and putting it on his back. “You won't see the comments anymore, I forbid it.”
In the midst of your tears, you snorted out in amusement and surprise. This ‘bodyguard era’ was surprising you more and more every day, the man had already invaded your home, your wallet, your personal life and now he prohibited you from using your own laptop, what would be next? Asking him permission to shower? Your mind played tricks on you and the image of you and Yoongi showering together appeared in your vulnerable brain.
“You are forbidding me?” You said stunned, hoping he was joking. “It's my computer, you can't forbid me from using it, that's not in your contract.”
“Have you read the contract yet?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow mockingly, knowing that of course, you wouldn't read it.
“Sure,” you lied, trying to lunge behind his back to snatch your computer but he dodged you, his chest facing your face.
“Remind me of clause seven, please,” he challenged you.
“Something about protecting my physical and mental integrity, it doesn't say anything about stealing my laptop, give it to me!” you jumped once towards his back but Yoongi stopped you again.
“Clause seven, any incident inside or outside the client's residence will be attended urgently in order to safeguard the physical, mental and emotional integrity of ______ ______, her well-being will be a priority while I, Min Yoongi, am on duty,” the man recited to you the clause, making you cross your arms in annoyance.
"What does that mean? What does it have to do with my computer?”
“It means that, even in your own home, I have to protect you from any circumstance that affects you emotionally, that includes a stupid video and stupid hate comments” the annoyance in Yoongi's voice was something dark to hear. You wondered if his irritation towards the whole situation was because he found this whole situation ridiculous or if it was because he was actually taking the issue of your mental health very seriously.
“And what do you suggest I do while Whitney figures all this out? Sit and imagine how the internet eats me alive?”
“You could read the contract once and for all, so our work dynamics would relate better to each other.”
“I'm used to these kinds of comments, Yoongi, this is just another streak. What is making me cry is the blue light in the photographs, I look orange, like a tangerine.”
“Tangerines are pretty, but even tangerines have feelings.”
“What nonsense are you saying? Give me my laptop!” you shouted.
But Yoongi walked out of the kitchen, ignoring your screams, and you didn't bother to follow him because you knew he wasn't going to give in, so you let him be.
The hours passed that afternoon, and you found yourself forgetting for a moment about the incident when you had a movie marathon in your living room while drinking hot coffee and eating ice cream. Yoongi peeked into the living room a few times, his spirit and consciousness calmed when he saw you immersed in a romantic comedy while you were wrapped in a blanket.
In the afternoon he got to work, after filing a complaint against the establishment and the employee, his contacts with the state police caused the paperwork to move faster than usual, and the guy found himself in need to use the money from the photographs and video to pay the fines from his workplace and to request financial support to pay for his own bail. It wasn't a real suing, Yoongi didn't want to involve your name and cause you more stress, it was all a drama to give him a good scare.
But that was not enough for him, the memory of the tears falling off your perfect face one after another addicted him inside and days after what happened, he picked up the old phone, the one he always kept in a drawer turned off, and dialed the phone number that he could never forget even if try:
"What do you want?" his ex-colleague asked him, speaking Korean as she recognized Yoongi's number.
“I need a favor, one of the many I've done for you” Yoongi responded in Korean as well.
“A favor goes unrequested, that's why they're called favors,” the scavenging voice from the other side of the line laughed and Yoongi remembered the good times when that laugh appeared when he did the atrocities they asked him to do.
“Well, those favors are going to start to disappear little by little and I will let LA police station get a hand in the investigations that I have been in charge of stopping” Yoongi felt satisfaction when the other end of the line remained silent.
"What do you want?" The annoying voice of his former partner reappeared, and it sounded just like when they were partners.
Yoongi gave him the bartender's details. Name. Age. Shift hours. Personal address. And with that he gave instructions.
“I want you to cause him a lot of pain, but not kill him, just make him take a long time before walking again.”
“You do know that my favors have a price, right?”
“I will leave the money same place as always, on sunday at nine in the morning, in a bag of food behind the telephone booth.”
“Your wishes are my orders, Suga” the voice of his former mate sounded amused again when using Yoongi's former nickname, even knowing that he hated it.
This was the big secret behind Yoongi and his serious facade. During his teenage and pre-pubescent years, until he was twenty, he had belonged to a gang in Los Angeles with whom he had worked doing everything. Selling drugs, assaults, robberies, intimidation, hurting people. Although he was not inherently violent like his companions, he was the strategist. He planned the robberies, he located the victims, he organized the team and let the others swing the bats, fire the guns and release the fists. From time to time, he would take the gun too and his hand was not heavy enough to pull the trigger, he did it without any conscience.
Shortly before he turned 21, one of his strategies to move a shipment of cocaine had gone wrong. When the police grabbed him and his team, and so that they wouldn't be arrested too, he pretended that they were his victims, he ignored them. Much to his good luck, Steve was the one who caught him.
“You have a lot of potential, your logistics for moving merchandise were very good.”
“Not so good if I'm back here arrested now.” A young Yoongi responded, handcuffs tightening around his wrists that were hidden beneath his military-print jacket, his short, platinum blonde hair shining beneath the roof of the patrol car.
“It was good, we were just better” Steve said.
Yoongi didn't respond, he just endured the paperwork and two nights in detention, until he discovered that Steve had paid his bail and hidden his criminal record. He enrolled him in Quantico after a few months in jail. He couldn't get rid of the drug possession charges but Steve got rid of the assault charges. He came out at the age of 21 as a new man.
A part of Yoongi missed his days in the gang, they were the only family he ever had. The only one he kept in contact with was RM, the man he now owed two thousand dollars to for beating up the guy. RM was always the leader, or Joon as Yoongi called him at the time, for the other boys he had become a traitor and they treated him as if he had died.
Sadly, someone had taken over the bartender a few days before Sunday, and in a much bloodier way than Yoongi had planned. The black envelope he was so afraid of had arrived, and this time, it was a folder.
Yoongi found you in the middle of the hallway, with the letter and the bloody photos spread on the floor, your knees squatted and your eyes swollen. He lunged at you, hugging you by the shoulders as he rocked your body back and forth, stroking your hair and wrapping you in his soft arms.
Your tears were soaking his white shirt and your fists were clinging incredibly tightly to his sleeves, crumpling the thin fabric. Yoongi tried to reach out and reach for the photos, but instead, you unable to speak due to your sobs, handed him the letter that had arrived.
"My dear, _____. I have taken care of this idiot, I know his actions have caused you a lot of stress, and for every photo he took of you it was a finger I cut off. Unfortunately, I ran out of fingers. By the time this letter reaches you, I will have to disappear for a while, or I will raise suspicions, I just want to let you know that you have someone watching over you. As proof of my commitment to you, I send you his gaze for the videos he took of you too”
Next to the bloody photos of the bartender and his mutilated body, there was a small wooden box. When Yoongi took it from your hands and saw the trigger for your crisis, he understood why you were crying on the floor. The man had sent you his victim’s eyes. Yoongi called the police and Steve. The local prosecutor's office was already aware of the disappearance of the bartender's body and his family were now trying to track down the killer.
Both you and the family agreed to keep everything private, after their son's actions they acknowledged that he had done wrong and had apologized on behalf of their passed son, but now they wanted to get away from the world of sensationalist headlines and live their mourning peacefully as they sought justice.
Not even a second, while the prosecution came to collect the letter, photographs, and box as evidence, did you let go of Yoongi, you simply hugged him crying and refused to talk to anyone. Yoongi didn't let go of you either, he gave his version of the events and cooperated with Steve with you in his arms, rubbing your hair while your soft cries were still decreasing.
Yoongi understood the trauma that the whole situation in general was causing you, but this, this was the limit. Yoongi cradled you in his arms and as the hours passed trying to mask your crisis and calm you down, he realized more and more how he was getting used to touching you. To hug you, to comfort you.
You, by your side, felt protected and safe in Yoongi's arms, his smell of expensive perfume, as if taken from the confines of the furthest forest, mixed a little with the smell of tobacco moistened your mouth and made you sink into his chest. You didn't know Yoongi's chest could be so soft, but it turned out to be extremely comfortable to forget about the hardships of your life for a moment and let him take control.
That same day at night you couldn't fall asleep, you didn't want to be in your room where everything was dark and lonely, so you went down to get a glass of water, and you found him again, he was still wearing the same shirt from the morning but his tie was hung untied around his neck.
He was at the kitchen counter in front of his computer, making calls in what appeared to be Korean. His native language. Yoongi hung up when he noticed your presence dressed only in a huge t-shirt and Shreck socks that reached your knees.
As soon as you saw him, you burst into tears. He quickly walked over to where you were and hugged you again, stroking your back to tell you that it was okay to cry with him.
“I can't sleep” you began between sobs “Every time I close my eyes, I see his dead eyes looking at me” Yoongi clenched his jaw, trying not to let go and go crazy all over California looking for the son of a bitch who had been tormenting you for months.
“I didn't want him to die, I swear I didn't, I didn't hate him enough to want him dead.”
“I know you didn’t, hone-…” Yoongi restrained himself, although it was an extraordinary situation, he felt little by little the boss-employee boundaries were being lost inside his mind, and every day this situation felt less like a case he had been paid for, and more like a personal attack, as if you were his family.
He shook the amorous nickname out of his head and fell silent. He was going to speak when you asked him.
“Can you sleep with me?” You lifted your face from his chest and looked at him with wide eyes, red and swollen from crying so much. Yoongi opened his eyes in surprise, but before he panicked and let go of you, you spoke again. “I mean, keep me company while I get to sleep, please.”
Yoongi discovered that he had a weakness every time you said “please” to him. The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor next to your bed with a pillow under his head and a borrowed pink blanket.
“Yoongi, you can sleep up here with me, my bed is the size of two king sizes together, we won't even touch each other.” You poked your head over the side of your bed, where Yoongi was lying.
“I want to respect your space” was his only argument, when in reality, all he wanted was to stop having lewd flashes of you and him.
And I want you not to respect it, you thought.
“It's okay, but if you're cold you can pull out one of the blankets,” you gave up, turning over, knowing that just having Yoongi breathing near you would easily put you to sleep. Five minutes passed, or maybe ten, but you couldn't sleep without asking him something extremely important to your vain heart.
“Yoongi?” your soft voice bounced off the walls of your huge bedroom.
"Yes?” You heard his deep voice and bit your lip trying to imagine how his voice would sound like when he woke up.
“Did I look too orange in those photos?” You knew that whether you looked orange or not should be the least of your worries, but you wanted to be able to talk about it without feeling short of breath and wanting to cry, and the only way you could do that was to find humor in all of this disaster.
"Yeah." Yoongi answered bluntly. He was aware that it was a defense mechanism, to talk about the situation without it being so traumatic. But he wasn't going to lie to you.
“Like an orange?” He heard the stress in your voice and almost wanted to laugh.
“Like a tangerine.”
"What is the difference? They’re both round and orange as fuck!” and even though you couldn't see him, you knew he was smiling.
“Tangerines are pretty. Oranges are not.”
“I hate oranges.” You repeated.
“Me too, I hate processed orange juice.”
“Well, I guess it's better to be a tangerine, if you like them…” You sighed and after another five minutes of silence, you spoke again. “Yoongi?”
"Yes?”
"Good night." Yoongi was relieved that you couldn't see him from above on your bed, because he was grinning maniacally from ear to ear, like fucking Cheshire; his eyes bright in the darkness of the night.
"Good night, ____. Sleep peacefully, I will be here” he sighed to himself, beginning to accept a terrible, horrible, disgusting reality: Yoongi was falling in love with you “I will always be here, angel”
⇢ thvlouvre's p.s. I downloaded Grammarly you all!! could you tell?? I'm still having a lot of anxiety since this is too long! I tried, I swear I tried with being a little less extra but Bodyguard Yoongi had me uuff 🤯... please remember english isn't my native language, you can leave feedback kindly and reblog it if you like it, also comment your theories about who do you think the stalker is 👀
⇢ TAG LIST: @guinhosletters @kyglover @idkjustlovingbts @chimmisbae @yoongiwantsme @nyaaa93 @secfir @coralmusicblaze @strxwbloody @whipwhoops @yes-suga @darkuni63 @jooniesbigroundtiddies (love this user btw) @yonchi (sorry if i forget anyone, hope this reach all of u 😭)
Here’s the list of my favourite bts fics on ao3 ♡ if you have any of your own recommendations feel free to tell me I would love to hear them ♡ some contain smut so no minors allowed
s- smut a- angst f- fluff
all of btssmutgalore’s work (sadly they aren’t on tumblr anymore
all of univsa work
growing pains by univsa (@diortae ) f s a
↬ as one of your older brother’s best friends, jeon jeongguk has been around for most of your life. and as such, he’s seen it all—from your more than embarrassing braces phase to your hopelessly awkward seventh grade school photos to your first real heartbreak. and for the most part, that’s a good thing. after all, he’s the kind of guy that’s easy to be around, that knows you like the back of his hand and can soothe over just about any ache with a few choice words. but when you start to see him as something other than just jimin’s best friend, and maybe even as something more, your once easygoing relationship takes a complicated turn.
alternatively, growing up is hard. jeon jeongguk makes it a little bit easier.
an abundance of mondays by univsa (@diortae ) f s a
↬ “Why the fuck would it be easy? You’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. Of course it’s complicated.” He pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.Or, it’s an old cliche, falling in love with your best friend. It’s a shame none of the stories ever told you it would feel like this.
half a heart without you by blaqandwhite f a
↬ you’ve known jungkook since you were fourteen, and somewhere along the way, you ended up giving him your heart without asking for anything in return. falling for your hot, lovely, perfect best friend who would never, ever fall for you…your life really couldn’t be a bigger cliche, could it?but when the burden of your unrequited love becomes way too much for you to bear, you do the only thing that makes sense to you; you run, and you don’t look back. until you get a phone call a year later that crushes whatever was left of your heart and forces you to face everything you’ve been running from…and even more.
seal the deal by blaqandwhite
↬ in a crazy turn of events, you end up agreeing to marry jeon jungkook because you don’t want to let your parents and your family business down. but after a while, after getting to know jungkook and after spending time with him, the thought of it really doesn’t seem too bad; and what starts out as a guarantee to seal a business deal gradually turns into so much more.
we made these memories for ourselves by seraphicserendipity f a
↬ you think you’ve been in love with jeon jungkook since the beginning of time. the worst part of it is that you didn’t know it until your world came crashing down right before your eyes.(in which growing up can mean growing apart, and falling in love comes in waves)
show me your scars by lollarissa f a
↬ Married life with Jeongguk was a dream you never wanted to wake up from, until a certain Kim Seoyeon enters your lives and everything goes to shit. It’s a good thing your husband loves you too much to let you walk away.
Rain by nijoon
↬ “ hug me for 30 days before I will sign the papers for your divorce because you suddenly decided you loved someone else’s hole more than me but then you changed your mind and I got pregnant and now we are happy”
your eyes tell by aneryllis (on tumblr too @njkbangtan )
↬ You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?
it’s complicated by TAE_REEs a
↬ The one where Mun Areum finds herself falling for her ex’s younger brother named Jungkook.
when worlds collide by envisagetaea
↬ “It just takes time Y/n, you’ll see that it’ll get easier if you just try!” Jungkook pushed, his hand on your elbow. The feeling of his skin against yours made your skin crawl.“I don’t want to try anymore Jungkook, i’ve given up. I’m tired of pretending i’m someone i’m not, I just want to go home and forget about everything.” You told him, refusing to look him in the eye.
33 minutes by kmindseta
↬ cheating
we’re in love (again) by jinisbangtansprince
↬ “ It’s been going on for about two months.”
rough edges by Inkofyoongi f s a
↬ When Jungkook asked for twenty dates to make you fall in love with him, you knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. But, sometimes, you can’t ignore your heart: you can only listen to it, let yourself go, even if you’ll end up with broken bones.
It’s a heartbeat by Inkofyoongif s a (ft. Yoongi)
↬ When your life entangles with Jeon Jungkook’s (the shallow fucker you can’t stand with every fiber of your being) through a series of unfortunate events, you think that destiny has a rotten sense of humor. But, as time passes, you come to grips with an inescapable truth: there’s more to him than you think. What if he just needs someone to give him a chance?
euphoria by taevelera
↬ you thought you`ve finally let him go – 10 years is enough to forget your first love but then it turned out to be too wrong when a simple back to home after a long day at work bus ride decides to reinterpret what it felt like to be in love with Jungkook, all over again with him being oblivious, all over again.
a beautiful epiphany by dulcetvk s a
↬ Derailed by heartbreak and the loss of inspiration, Jeon Jungkook tries to rediscover his love for art again. As his best friend, you’re willing to do anything to help him reignite his lost passion. Little do you know that the struggling artist’s new muse is closer than you think.
show me something by dailydoseofdias a
↬ He was your first kiss years ago, only to become your first heartbreak the next day. Your life would have been much easier if only you would forget about him and move on, instead of having to see him almost every day because your best friend had fallen in love with his best friend. When your pal had suggested having a road trip for the final days of summer break before going back to campus, you said yes for a reprieve. Too bad she forgot to tell you about the two extra passengers tagging along. One of which is the boy that still has a tight hold of your heart without either of you even knowing it.
ivy and sprinkles by btsracketf s a
↬ Jungkook’s wife walked out on their family, and now she’s his ex-wife that sends nudes. The publishing company he’s working for no longer appreciates his creativity, and his little girl, Ivy, is trading in her (sticker) pack-a-day habit for the sprinkle-topped cupcakes from your store across from preschool. Life’s confusing.
between crossed lines by univsa
↬ in theory, it had sounded like an easy gig. bodyguarding, or rather babysitting, some ridiculously wealthy CEO’s daughter with a penchant for shopping sprees and overpriced brunch. but jungkook had certainly never bargained for the handful that was you.
Stubborn love by bluesxde s a
↬ love is not a choice, this much you knew. for a girl like you, neither was marriage. married off to a prince, you had the life most girls would dream of. but your dream didn’t end with prince charming. yours ended with your loyal bodyguard that you could never have
Redamancy by bluesxdef s a
↬ redamancy (n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.battling with your overwhelming desire and love for the man you cannot have, you try to play the role as the dutiful wife and mother-to-be. but even jungkook struggles with the secrets building between the two of you, and the unspoken question of the true paternity of your unborn child, and the assumed heir to the throne… (sequel to stubborn love)
royal pain in the heart by blaqandwhite f a
↬ inspired by the princess diaries bodyguard au
right of way by fringesofsanity f s a
↬ In theory, things were simple: your best friend was Jungkook’s girlfriend while your boyfriend, Jimin, was Jungkook’s best friend. In reality, things weren’t always that simple. And mutually exclusive.
a cinderella story by suhdays (based on the movie)
↬ you are forced to work multiple jobs as you live under your stepmothers roof. unable to move out and strive for complete independence, you do what you can in order save enough. turns out, as a college student that is harder than you thought. so, you distract yourself by joining online chat groups in which you meet a boy that goes to your school. that boy? none other than the rugby star himself, jeon jeongguk. it doesn’t prove to be an issue until he asks to meet you at an upcoming halloween party. he’s never noticed you before so why not hide yourself in order to live your dreams, if only for a moment?
blank check by sugaxjpg f s a
↬ “Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”
love and other four letter words by univsa f s a
↬ Things are going good for Jeongguk, maybe even great. Loose ends are being tied, his life is beginning to have some semblance of an order, and he’s got you—his best friend of three years—by his side the whole way through. But the universe loves nothing more than throwing wrenches in plans. And this particular wrench comes in the form of you getting a boyfriend.
cuddle therapy by itsallabouthedetails f s a
↬ Jungkook and you meet at an experimental course called ‘cuddle therapy’. It quickly becomes clear that you want to be his little spoon. And maybe even something more.
or
“I want to eat you up.”
“You mean out.”
“Yeah, that too.”
seoul underground by hunniejimins s a ft. namjoon
↬ You’re a crime & corruption journalist for one of the most esteemed newspapers in Seoul currently investigating drug trafficking in Hong Kong. A hit is taken out on you and as a twisted stroke of luck, a member of a rival gang inadvertently saves you - Jeon Jungkook. He kidnaps you and brings you to the gang’s kingpin, Kim Namjoon, who initially had plans to kill you, but a certain bracelet ends up buying you time. Things only get further complicated when they realize who you are and what you can offer them.
when we were young by bluesxde f s a ft. jungkook
↬ returning to the sleepy seaside town you grew up in is the last thing you want to do, and the promise of seeing your long-time crush jungkook is the only thing keeping you going. when you fail once more to tell him how you really feel, you’re left with no other choice but to accept the help of your long-time enemy and general pain in the ass, taehyung, to get jungkook to notice you, with surprising consequences for everyone involved.
bound by obiwrites f s a
↬ You’re used to men being attracted to you. It was nothing new and definitely nothing exciting. Men as a whole annoyed you. So when your parents tell you you’re to move all the way back to your home country after having been gone for the last ten years, and to marry a man at that, you were furious.You’d rather chew off your own arm then enter an arranged marriage but … you had priorities. Responsibilities. Ones your parents knew and weren’t afraid to use against you. Being cut off wasn’t an option. Enter Min Yoongi—the man who refused to be pigeon holed and the first to not grovel at your feet for attention. In all honesty you’ve never had a member of the opposite sex look so bored with you.You hated him already.
love is a dog from hell by yourlocalhoneyf s a ft. jungkook
↬ You and Yoongi agreed on being good friends, co-workers, and friends who help each other out under the sheets. What you never agreed on was to catch feelings for each other.Enter, accidental feelingsEnter, Jeon Jungkook
all the room in the world by Inkofyoongi f s a
↬ After four years, you go back to Daegu for Taehyung’s wedding. However, things aren’t as you left them… and Min Yoongi either.
formula for love by bluesxde f s a
↬ newly single and in the midst of a bitter divorce, with a custody battle thrown in, chemistry professor kim seokjin tries not to fall in love with the new library assistant. and fails, horribly
roommates with benefits by joonswhistlef s a
↬ You and Namjoon are roommates. You’re both really horny one morning. So you come to an understanding:
1. It’s not a regular thing.
2. It happens on the couch.
3. Kissing is allowed.
4. Condoms, always.
And just like that, you’re roommates with benefits.
seoul underground by hunniejimins s a ft. jungkook
↬ You’re a crime & corruption journalist for one of the most esteemed newspapers in Seoul currently investigating drug trafficking in Hong Kong. A hit is taken out on you and as a twisted stroke of luck, a member of a rival gang inadvertently saves you - Jeon Jungkook. He kidnaps you and brings you to the gang’s kingpin, Kim Namjoon, who initially had plans to kill you, but a certain bracelet ends up buying you time. Things only get further complicated when they realize who you are and what you can offer them.
OR
Namjoon and Jungkook both fall in love with you and it’s a mess, but monogamy is overrated anyway, right?
the december of our adulthood by vyduan a
↬ Jimin collapsed all over you and the middle console from his seat in a fit of giggles and did his best to tease a smile back onto your face. “Thanks for picking me up so early on a Saturday morning, Y/N. You’re the best friend a guy could ever have.”
Even after all these years, you couldn’t control the dip of disappointment at his words. It wasn’t that you didn’t love being Jimin’s best friend. It was more that you knew you would never be anything more.
You grunted in acknowledgment and pushed the sadness down, burying it under years of practice and half truths.
You would be content with what you had. You would be satisfied with the love Jimin was willing and able to give. You were not entitled to anything more.
It was enough.
It was enough.
It was never enough.
arranged by obiwritesf s a
↬ If you thought entering an arranged marriage with the person you love would be a dream, you were in for a rude awakening. Jung Hoseok was far from the doting husband you’d dreamed of and most of it could be chalked up to the fact that he was in love with his best friend. And you are without a shadow of a doubt, not her.
But what happens when Hoseok starts to realize he doesn’t want you to be her? That there might be more than meets the eye with you?
piece by piece by underthejoon f s a ft seokjin
↬ a collection of drabbles where your love life is muddied up by two men – the one you love and the one that loves you.
my new and improved ao3 rec list i will be added all the fics that are currently in my to read list on my ao3 account here as well… i have been spending alot of time reading things there this past week so i wanted to change this list up a bit i hope you like it ☺️🖤 alsooooo feel free to send some ao3 recs my way i have no idea how the searches work on that app so help a girl out in discovery all the wonderful fics out there 😉
Thank you for fools paradise drabble 🥰. I am not sure if you are taking requests? It’s 100% up to you if you want to bcs it’s your blog, but would it be possible to get an angel mask drabble, maybe on their wedding day?
Babe, you read my mind! I honestly miss writing for Angel Mask even tho I have struggled with writers block for what has seemed like two years! 😭😭😔
Here you go. I hope you enjoy :) It’s waAy past my bedtime so please ignore words that don’t make sense! 😭
till death do us…
Pairing: Angel Mask Yoongi x F! Reader
Warning(s): At the end (present day), mentions of kidnapping, mob business/situation, insinuated sexc time (but NO SMUT I RPOMISE),
It was always that little cold cold heart of his that beat incredibly fast, only for you.
His hands were clammy and he swore that if he looked in the mirror, he'd see droplets of perspiration dotted on the crown of his head.
The day he never thought would happen was at the tip of his hands, filled with love and pride as he watched you walk his way, a bouquet held tight in your hands, in your lower belly as you smiled so brightly, illuminating the room with what only he could describe as pure happiness.
Jungkook was at your side, leading you to the altar and to Yoongis’ awaiting hand. He’d seen you cry weeks before, wrapping you in his arms at the fact that your father was not present - or alive to walk you down the aisle. But when Yoongi offered to ask Jungkook, you nodded, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate to do as was asked of him.
And truly, Yoongi thanked him, hugging him with might as he had made you so happy to oblige. There was a part of him that felt… ashamed for the undisclosed transgression that he had done years before. Your tears always debilitated him, but like always, the other part of him - the immoral man that stood before you, simply was apathetic, selfishly keeping you to his side.
He never thought he’d live long enough to fall and love and marry the love of his life, but the day was here, his whole world walking towards him.
And it was just as you wished. A small get together with trusted business partners, and close family members.
Yoongi looked at you and only you, deciding to place his hate for his parents at the back of his mind because they didn't matter. They never have. He had plans of course, that even though Jungkook was at your side, he stayed with the thought of asking his own father to accompany you down the isle.
But his parents didn’t agree and didn’t show.
All for marrying you.
They too had plans; for Yoongi to marry into a family that wasn’t much different from theirs, criminals with blood money, running and never safe. Yoongi declined. The second he saw you, you were marked as his.
“Hello, Mrs. Min.” Yoongi whispered teasingly, your hand pressing tightly against his. He could see you were nervous from that little quirk that came from your furrowed brow, but yet you smiled, huffing a small hi his way.
“You may kiss the bride.”
And hell, like he’d have to be told twice. With vigorous want, he cupped your cheeks in his pale hands, locking your lips together that placed the last nail on the coffin. You were now his wife in the underground hellhole he resided - but no, he’d taken his own word that he’d never drag you down and involve you in anything that had to do with the risks of his position.
In a few years, he’ll retire and hand the reigns to his trusted partner, the doe eyed innocent looking man, who had absolutely nothing of innocence inside. Jungkook would be a good leader, after all, Yoongi raised him and taught the man everything he knew.
And hopefully, after he retired, you’d have a family of your own - a child or two, living life at peace until you were frail and grey.
“I’m so happy.” You voiced, your head on his chest as you both swayed to the music, your first dance as husband and wife.
Though you didn’t smile, he could see it in your eyes, gleaming with contentment. Yoongi smiled. This was all he ever wanted. “I love you.” He said, pecking your cheek, and your lips, causing you to chuckle.
“I love you too. So much, you have no idea.”
He did.
He loved you to an extent that had no measure and he knew that by your side, it was a euphoria that he couldn’t explain or comprehend.
“What do you say… that we kick everyone out, and we get started on our honeymoon, hm?” Your laugh was otherworldly, your head thrown back at the sight of your husband’s eyebrows playfully jumping up and down.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Min.”
“No, honey. It’s whatever you say.”
PRESENT DAY:
Yoongi smiled with sadness at the picture on his desk, gently bouncing Myunghee on his lap as she scuffled, wanting to cry.
The photo depicted the both of you, your white dress flowing on your body as he carried you on his back, your legs wrapped around his waist with a humorous expression on your face.
He no longer saw that light - that innocence and happiness in your eyes.
He had washed it all away.
“Shhh, sweetheart.” With a peck he wrapped a hand on her raven hair, maneuvering her tiny body in his chest to make her comfortable.
"Mommy's fine. I promise. She just needs more time to adjust. I promise, as soon as she’s out of that room, we’ll be a happy family. Just like how we talked about. How do you feel about being a big sister, hm? I love you so so so much.”
What did you think? He had never taken words too light. When you voiced your never ending love for him in your vows, he tucked your actions into his cold, beating heart and with stubbornness, he held tight with a vice grip.
Till death do us both part.
And he’d be sure that was a promise you were going to keep.
Vows aka 10 ways to win your husband's heart Masterlist
An arranged marriage AU
You've been in your arranged marriage with Yoongi for five years, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.
because I have nothing to do and I miss him terribly terribly terribly
(once again, all of love and support to the writers!)
1. haze by @bonvoyagenoona
fwb(?)au, fluff, smut, 6.5k words
2. I already have you and a cupcake, what more could I possibly need by @taetaespeaches
established relationship, fluff, 1.3k words
3. phases of a daydream by @ki-yomii
established relationship, fluff, smut, 2.8k words
4. riding yoongi in his studio chair by @mccnyoongi
established relationship, undergroundrapper!yoongi, fluff, smut, 2k words
5. extra of in our forever by @muniimyg
established relationship, fluff, angst, smut, (part of the 'in our forever' series but can be read as a standalone drabble imo)
6. the trophy wife by @taeyohonic
established relationship, angst, fluff, 5.7k words
7. favouritism by @taeyohonic
established relationship, pandemic!au, fluff, smut, 2.2k words
8. 01:26am drabble by @wtf-yoongi
established relationship, just fluff and cute vibes
9. everything by @hamsterclaw
established relationship!au, fluff, a little angst, smut, (part of the 'vows' series but can be read as a standalone oneshot imo), 2.3k words
( honestly the vows series is one of my all time favourite series and I reread when I'm bored or feeling down so I would recommend the entire series if you haven't read it ! )
hello and welcome back to my library, only that once again i’ve failed to organise all the yoongi fics i’ve read so far 😭👍🏽
as always, if possible, your feedbacks to the authors are always appreciated and welcome. but once again, only if it's possible!
most of these fics are rated M, and abiding by the author's wishes, you have to be 18+ in order to read them. however, i’m not responsible for the content you consume online, hence, reader's discretion is adviced.
[ ♪ ] : series | [ ★ ] : favorites | [ a ] : angst | [ f ] : fluff
[ s ] : smut | [ c ] : comedy
⊹ moonlit throne by @hobidreams ( 68k, ♪, s, a, f ) ★ 👑
ALL TIME FAVORITE YOONGI FIC.
⊹ heaven's winter by @jksangelic (18.6k, a ,s, f) ★ ☁️🏔️
⊹ matilda by @babystrcandy ( 70k+, ♪, a, s, f ) ★ 🌼
⊹ desolate by @angelicyoongie ( 52k+ ♪ , s, a, f) ★ 🐱
⊹ the mark of yun-ki by @ladyartemesia ( 8.6k, a,s,f) ★ 👑
⊹ the early shift by @hobidreams ( 21.4k, ♪ , s, a, f ) ★ ☕
⊹ monachopsis by @personasintro ( 50k+, ♪, s, a, f ) ★ 🤰
⊹ love lockdown by @personasintro ( 63k+, ♪, s, a) ★ 🧟
⊹ technologically in love by @jungshookz ( 24k, a, s, f ) ★🤖
⊹ hellish by @jungshookz ( 22.1k+, s, a,f, c ) ★ 😈
⊹ purr-haps i like you by @taleasnewastime ( 11k, f ) ★🥺
⊹ belong by @ahundredtimesover ( 99.4k+ ,♪, f, s, a ) ★ 🏀
⊹ first and last always by @floralseokjin ( s, a, f ) ❄️
⊹ swing life away by @aphrodijin ( s, a, f ) 🤰
⊹ vexed by @taleasnewastime ( 34.5k, s, a, f ) 🎬
⊹ nephoria by @taegicity ( 14k+, ♪,s, a ) ★ 🦇
⊹ first love, last love by @kithtaehyung ( 35k+, a, s, f) 🎹
⊹ auburn skies by @persphonesorchid ( 12k, a, s, f, c ) ★🤫
⊹ no signal by @latenightdecaf (13k+ , a, f ) 🎤
⊹ so close by @namfinessed (13k+, a, f) ★💔.. ❤️🩹
⊹ divorce by @xjamlessparkx (30k+, ♪, a, f ) 💔..❤️🩹
⊹ give it to me by @ki-yomii ( 1.6k, s ) 💥
⊹ perks of being a househusband by @sunnebeam (3k+,♪,f) ★
⊹ strike a cord by @snackhobi ( 18.5k, s) 🎹
⊹ desecrate by @hamsterclaw (2.1k, s) 😈👼
p.s : if there's any fic which is a series and is on hold/haven't been updated since a long time, don't be an ass and pester the author about it. be patient and wait! we all have our own reasons and most importantly, a life.
also.. if u wanna check out my works pls do here lol
GENRE: fantasy, fluff, smut, a hint of a soulmate au, light angst
PAIRING: village daughter!reader x seraph!yoongi (alternatively, an “angel”)
WARNINGS/TAGS: lots of overthinking/past angst regarding both reader and yoongi separately (yoongi especially), tae is involved as an important plot side character but he’s barely in there i’m sorry, surprise aggression from yoongi because u get in his personal space, slow burn smut but the smut is nice and flavorful, explicit sexual content, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), virgin!reader, clumsy cute smut uwu, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), several positions, unintentional temperature play?, lots of love and respect up in this house and lots of other things i probably forgot.
also i wrote a lot for the intro you can skim idc lmao.
SUMMARY: your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.
WORD COUNT: 18,600
NOTE: welcome to my slice of the Fantastical Stories for Curious Souls Collaboration!
it’s always really an honor to be able to work with other writers and i’m really grateful that they allowed my butting-in )))): thank you all!!! make sure to check out everyone’s stories in the link above and let us know what you think!
(uhhh i just….. i spent way too much time on research and the politics behind this fic for it to still be aLL oVer tHe plaCe but please cut me some slack. might i throw in that this has no religious/cultural affiliation and instead has more of a fantastical theme to it that is entirely fictional. especially for the concept of the Offering and how i loosely throw around the word “angel” and “heaven” and etc.)
((might i add that i recently discovered that i am *terrible* at describing geography and am totally basing it off of video-game visuals…….. cough cough zeldabreathofthewild))
(((this last one’s kinda important!!!!: yoongi is described to be larger than you bc he’s this magical bird being. i always try to keep reader insert broad in description but if you’re taller than irl yoongi boongi, pssst, you’re not in this universe sorry but i make the rules)))
((((this is currently unedited. @14statelier get to work.))))
Margot awoke to her a gentle shaking on her shoulder.
“Come on, jagiya.” Yoongi spoke softly, shaking her awake. “You need to wake up, baby.” She groaned, burrowing further into the blanket while Yoongi looked down at her fondly. “I know you’re not feeling good, baby, but you need to get up.”
She didn’t move.
“Come on, baby.” He cooed, slipping his arms underneath her and picking her up bridal style as she groaned and buried her face into his shoulder. “You need to eat something, and then I promise you can go back to sleep.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“You have to, baby. You didn’t eat much today.”
“Whose fault is that?” she huffed, clinging to him as he walked them into the kitchen where a bowl of juk was waiting for her.
“Food, pain medicine, and then bed.” He ordered, setting her down at the island.
“Fuck off.” Margot grumbled, picking up the spoon and stirring around the contents of the bowl. “I hate your dishes.”
He scoffed out the smallest of laughs, taking a seat next to her. “What’s wrong with my dishes?”
“They’re sanatorium white.”
Yoongi chuckled, gazing at her fondly. “We can get new dishes. You can change anything in the apartment that you’d like. Redecorate to your heart’s content. It’s your house too, jagiya.”
She looked over at him disgruntled. “This is not my house.”
“Of course it is.” he shrugged. “Eat.”
Reluctantly, Margot took a bite of the juk. It had never been her favorite dish. Something about the texture of the rice just wasn’t her favorite, too much like oatmeal too mushy, but it was a staple food for those who didn’t feel well. It also had the added benefit of being easy on an upset stomach. It reminded her of the BRAT diet her mom had used to put her on whenever she’d had stomach issues as a child.
Thinking of it made her inexplicably homesick. It was a feeling she didn’t get very often, but when she did, it hit like a truck. She missed her family, her friends. She missed the streets she’d grown up on. She missed not having to worry about a man who had a delusional obsession with her.
“How’s your head?”
“It’s fine.”
“Seongnam said you had a migraine today.”
“Seongnam should mind his own business.” she shot back, shooting him a glare from the corner of her eye.
“Looking after you is his business.”
She barked out a laugh, the sound more like a scoff than anything else. “I’m not a fucking child, Yoongi. I don’t need a babysitter to look after me.”
Yoongi stared her down, his expression less than amused.
“You do if you don’t take care of yourself.”
“I got on just fine before you decided to barge in the take over.” she reminded him, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you understand how incredibly creepy it is that you have people who watch my every move twenty-four-seven?” She questioned, head tilted slightly to the side.
“It’s for your own safety, jagiya.” he grumbled, jaw clenched tightly, his fingers tapping a harsh rhythm against the top of the island.
“Is it for my safety or your comfort?”
Margot let a spoonful of juk fall back into the bowl, completely uninterested in the meal set before her, her stomach too twisted in knots to really consider eating anything. The throbbing in her skull didn’t help with her appetite either.
As a teacher, Margot was used to being tired. It was a tiring profession, but there was a bone deep exhaustion hanging about her today that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was the kind of tired that made her want to spend all day curled up in bed until the rest of the world faded away and all the thoughts cluttering her head faded with it.
The only cure for it was a lazy day, to rot in bed until she was ready to emerge from her cocoon when her bones felt a little less heavy and the world seemed a little easier to face as it came back into focus. While she’d spent the majority of the day sleeping, she wasn’t quite ready to face the reality of the situation. But Yoongi was insistent on making sure her basic physical needs were met even if the meeting of them pulled a little more on the frayed edges of her soul.
With a heavy sigh, Margot stood, pushing herself up using the island as support. “I’m going to bed.”
Yoongi’s hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist, the pressure firm but not so harsh that it hurt. It was a silent command to stay where she was, to sit back down before he was forced to make her.
“You need to eat, baby.” She didn’t say anything, staring at him blankly as he searched her face for any sign that she was going to back down of her own free will. “Just a few more bites, baby.” Still she didn’t move. “Please.”
The last word came out strained, ragged as though his nerves were as ragged as hers. He needed this. He needed to know that she was safe and well cared for, and for the moment the only thing he could do to make that happen was to make sure she ate something.
He’d gotten updates from her security team as the day had gone on. Yeong had been concerned by how little she’d eaten that morning before she’d gone to lie down again. Baek-ah had reported that she’d barely even stirred during his shift let alone eaten anything. She’d been a little more active during Seongnam’s shift, but she’d only had a few bites of an early dinner and some tea before she’d gone back to sleep again. Overall, the sum of what she’d consumed that day was small enough to cause Yoongi concern. Even if she didn’t want to stay and eat, she needed to, and Yoongi was going to make sure she was safe and healthy even if she wasn’t happy about it.
“Please,” He tried again, forcing his expression to soften even as annoyance ticked at his jaw. “Just a few more bites, Mari. You didn’t eat today.”
Margot stared at him trying to puzzle out the look in his eye.
There was the clear layer of exhaustion, the mirror of her own, but there was also a gleam of something else, something frantic and feral clawing at the edges of his being. It was the same emotion that she’d seen the night before as Yoongi had dragged her from her home. It was as wounded as it was feral, as frayed and worn down as she felt.
She stared for a few moments more, taking in the information she’d just gleaned, trying to figure out the best course of action even as her own body screamed for her to return to the comfort of sleep. She knew what would be best for her, and yet there was a part of her, so entwined with the entirety of her being, that told her to put the needs of others before her own, and somehow, despite everything, that still included Yoongi.
Slowly, Margot sat back down, keeping a careful eye on Yoongi as she did, watching as the tense set of his shoulders eased as she settled back down in front of the bowl of juk.
“Just a few more bites.” he assured her, seeing the way she eyed the bowl as though it was going to bite her.
“Don’t.” she sighed, her voice having its hard edge. “Don’t talk to me like a child. This situation is demeaning enough as it is.”
She didn’t want to be cajoled into eating the meal before her. She didn’t want to even think of taking another bite, the very thought of it making her stomach roll unpleasantly.
“Baby?” Yoongi’s brow furrowed as he watched the color drain from her face. “Baby, are you okay?”
“I can’t…” she paused, taking a breath to steady herself. “I don’t think I can eat it.”
Yoongi’s frown deepened, the knowledge that sometimes when she had a migraine it made her too nauseous to keep anything down coming to the front of his thoughts.
“Baby?” he reached forward, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Shit.” he cursed under his breath feeling how clammy her skin had gotten, and silently berating himself for not noticing sooner how poorly she actually felt. “I’m sorry, baby. You don’t have to eat it. You can eat something in the morning when you feel better.” he murmured, smoothing some fly-away strands away from her face. “Do you want to go lie down again?”
Margot nodded, swallowing back the feeling of nausea creeping up her throat.
“Okay.” Yoongi nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you to bed.”
Margot grumbled a little as Yoongi once more scooped her up. “I can walk on my own, you know? I’m nauseous, not broken.”
“Let me baby you.” He shushed her, heading towards the bedroom.
“I’m not a baby, Yoongi. I just don’t feel well. You’re being overbearing.”
He chuckled a little at that, gazing down at where she rested her head against his shoulder, leaning into his embrace even as she complained about him carrying her.
“You deserve to be babied, jagi, especially when you don’t feel well.”
“I can baby myself.”
“Ah,” he hummed, giving her a soft smile. “But that’s my job, jagiya.”
“You’re insufferable.” She sighed, a sudden wave of nausea having her tighten her around his shoulders, her whole body tensing.
“Almost there, sweetheart.” he mumbled, tightening his own hold around her.
Ture to his word, they arrived at the bedroom in just a few moments where Yoongi gently laid her out on the bed.
“I’m going to grab you some pain meds. Okay, jagi?”
She didn’t respond, choosing instead to turn onto her side and curling into a ball, wanting nothing more than to be asleep again.
Yoongi returned swiftly with the promised pain meds and a glass of water for her.
“Okay, jagi. I need you to sit up for a moment.” She huffed, ignoring his request as she snuggled further into the pillows. “Come on, jagi.”
Gently, Yoongi helped her to sit up, handing her the pills and the glass of water.
“You take those. I’m going to go get you some pajamas, sweetheart.”
“You know what would make me feel better?” Called after him after swallowing the pills.
“You’re not getting your own room, Mari-ah.” he answered over his shoulder, not even needing to hear the question to know what she wanted.
Yoongi entered the closet, pleased to see that her things had all seemingly arrived, even if they had yet to be unpacked. Without much care for the mess he was making, Yoongi began to dig through the boxes in search of something she could wear to bed. They needed to unpack, but that could wait until another day. If worse came to worst, he could always have the housekeeper do it as well if his Mari insisted on being stubborn, but she couldn’t live out of boxes forever.
Her side of the closet would fill up with her own things, everything put into their proper places, and he would add to her side of the closet as well. Margot would be one of the most spoiled women in Seoul if he had anything to say about it. Anything her heart desired would be hers.
Yoongi managed to find a worn pair of gray sleep shorts before becoming frustrated with digging through the boxes, moving instead to his own side of the closet in search of a shirt for her.
Quickly, Yoongi pulled out a large black t-shirt. Deeming the combination of his shirt and her shorts as adequate enough sleepwear, he made his way back to Margot who was leaning back against the pillows with her eyes closed.
“I got you some clothes, jagi.” She opened her eyes, gaze flitting to the clothes in his hand and then back to his face, disinterested.
Yoongi sighed, setting the little pile of clothes on the bed. “I’ll step out so you can change.”
“Surprisingly gentlemanly for a kidnapper.”
He quirked a brow, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I could stay if you want.”
She froze, her spine straightening. “No. Nope. No thank you. You can go.” She shooed him away as he tried to suppress a laugh.
“Didn’t think so.”
Yoongi gave her a few minutes to change before he entered the room again. He could have sworn that his heart stopped beating for a moment as he saw her standing there in his shirt.
“This is your shirt.” she accused, voice soft as she watched him enter the room.
“All of your things are still in boxes, jagi.” he pointed out gently, thinking to himself that it wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t unpack if he got to see her in his clothes more often.
“Stop that.” she snapped, though her tone didn’t have any real bite to it.
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
Yoongi had to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of his lips as she glared at him. “Looking at you like what, jagiya?”
“All soft and mushy. It’s annoying.”
Leisurely, Yoongi crossed the room to where she stood glaring at him like a disgruntled cat. She didn’t move as he approached, only watching carefully as he got closer.
“I can’t be soft with you, jagiya?” he asked, gently sliding a hand through her hair, his hand coming to a rest along her jaw with his thumb brushing a gentle line across her cheek bone.
“Stop that.” She hissed, stepping away. “We aren’t lovers.”
“We could be.”
She paused, seemingly struck speechless by the bold proclamation.
She spoke after a moment, her voice barely a whisper as she finished mulling over what he’d just said. “No. We couldn’t be.”
Here’s the list of my favourite bts fics on ao3 ♡ if you have any of your own recommendations feel free to tell me I would love to hear them ♡ some contain smut so no minors allowed
s- smut a- angst f- fluff
jeon jungkook
all of btssmutgalore’s work (sadly they aren’t on tumblr anymore
all of univsa work
Chewie & choco boy by rookiegukie f a
growing pains by univsa (@diortae ) f s a
an abundance of mondays by univsa (@diortae ) f s a
half a heart without you by blaqandwhite f a
seal the deal by blaqandwhite
we made these memories for ourselves by seraphicserendipity f a
show me your scars by lollarissa f a
Rain by nijoon
your eyes tell by njkbangtan (on tumblr too @njkbangtan )
it’s complicated by TAE_REE s a ↬(ex boyfriend taehyung jk’s his younger brother and things get complicated)
when worlds collide by envisagetae a (implied cheating break up)
33 minutes by kmindset a
we’re in love (again) by jinisbangtansprince
rough edges by Inkofyoongi f s a (friends to lovers)
It’s a heartbeat by Inkofyoongi f s a (ft. Yoongi)
euphoria by taeveler a
a beautiful epiphany by dulcetvk
show me something by dailydoseofdia s a (enemies to lovers first love roadtrip)
ivy and sprinkles by btsracket f s a (single dad dilf jk)
between crossed lines by univsa
Stubborn love by bluesxde
Redamancy by bluesxde (sequel to stubborn love)
Bodyguard by attackontaetanss
royal pain in the heart by blaqandwhite
right of way by fringesofsanity f s a (best friends boyfriend)
a cinderella story by suhdays (based on the movie)
blank check by sugaxjpg f s a (college au fuck boy au fake dating au)
love and other four letter words by univsa f s a (friends to lovers college au)
cuddle therapy by itsallabouthedetails f s a (strangers to lovers)
seoul underground by hunniejimins s a (mafia au e2l love triangle slow burn) ft. namjoon
kim taehyung
when we were young by bluesxde f s a (enemies to lovers au friends to lovers au fake dating au) ft. Jungkook
min yoongi
moan wars by hoseokiehopie s (boyfriend friend yoongi) ft. Shy Roommate Jungkook
bound by obiwrites (arranged marriage enemies to lovers)
love is a dog from hell by yourlocalhoney f s a (love triangle) ft. Jungkook
all the room in the world by Inkofyoongi f s a (childhood friends to lovers)
kim seokjin
formula for love by bluesxde f s a (professor jin single parent jin)
kim namjoon
roommates with benefits by joonswhistle f s a (roommate au angst with a happy ending)
seoul underground by hunniejimins s a (mafia au e2l love triangle slow burn) ft. jungkook
park jimin
the december of our adulthood by vyduan a (unrequited love idiots to lovers friends to lovers)
⤷ summary. ❝ Min Yoongi is one thousand shades of forbidden to you, and yet, you can’t help but lust over him. Your dad’s friend. ❞ | 18+
pairing. dilf!ceo!yoongi x rich girl!reader
genre. forbidden romance au, age gap au, smut, fluff, implied angst, pwp.
word count. 3.1k
» please don’t flag this post. if u don’t like it, just scroll. don’t be petty and flag creator’s posts, if u do that, ur not fücking cool 👎
warnings. big age gap (11 years), oc is a fucking tease, she vapes once, oc is said to have thick thighs, oc’s father is so oblivious lol, YOONGI HAS TATTOOS 😶🌫️ !! yoongi and oc’s father are friends, yoongi gives dilf energy but he doesn’t have a kid :3, daddy k*nk (sorry not sorry), mirror s*x, bathroom s*x, brief oral (f. recieving) big dïck yoongi, standing sëx, unprotected s*x (don’t be stupid like them ok this is fiction), dirty talk, yoongi has a dirty mouth y’all, dëgration k*nk, püssy fingering, choking, belly bulge, disgusting pet names, self-voyeurism, creampie, mentions of creampie, they have to be quiet but they kind of fail lol, there is a smidge of angst, like it’s super tiny u won’t even feel it, love dovey at the end, implied angst for the future of this couple, FLUFF (it’s weird for me to add this tag haha).
a/n. oh my god what have i done 😀 this is pure pwp. i am not okay i actually need my dilf yoongi right now !!!!! also this drabble just SCREAMS lana del rey, and the banner too. like oh my gooooood. i also thought of cola while writing this hehe. this was for my song requests and i hope u like this, love u so much !! <3 this is also just a lil something to get u guys fed before the monster that is after hours part one drops on friday !! hehe i’m very excited, love u all ♡
please reblog and / or leave feedback if u can, it helps a lot a lot !! ♡ love u. this is barely edited.
links. main masterlist ; taglist
The golden rays of July's sun hit your skin as you trace your fingers on your book. You shift your focus not to the captivating words of the page before you, but to the man who sits on the white sofa of your living room behind the glass.
You bite your red lips, your lust-filled eyes hidden behind your heart-shaped glasses as you shamelessly stare at the man, gazing at each of his handsome features in secrecy.
You should be ashamed of yourself, lusting over your father’s associate and friend, but your so-called shame is long gone as you think about his veiny, tattooed, ring-filled hands splitting you open until you squirt.
Min Yoongi is his name.
You’ve known him for some time now.
He is the CEO of Min Tech and he and your father decided to create a partnership between their companies a few years ago, but no one would have thought both men would have turned friends.
Your father by no means is an easy man to please, and by internet rumours, Mr Min is a man as cold as ice, whose sharp words are enough to cut your ego like a knife if you step
one foot out of line.
And what took you by more surprise is that he is much younger than your father, ten years, and your father was a man who liked to mingle with people his own age, claiming that the younger generation was too dumb for him to be associated with him.
Except you, of course, and now, Yoongi.
Both don’t trust easily and yet, become such friends that he hangs out at your mansion almost every weekend for wine and business talk that is too boring for you to eavesdrop.
Min Yoongi is a thousand shades of forbidden to you. He is a friend of your father's, and not to mention, a CEO thirteen years older than you.
And yet, you can’t help but bite your lip every time you see the thirty-four-year-old clench move his tattooed hand, veins popping out, sending shivers toward your spine all the way to your clit.
You gaze at his figure, your eyes in a trance by the way he moves with an effortless confidence that draws the attention of every room he enters. Yoongi laughs at something your father says, flashing the gummy smile you’ve come to admire, and he sips a bit of the glass of whiskey in his hand.
Suddenly, his intoxicating eyes catch yours. It’s a faint moment, but enough to form a smirk on your cherry lips as he licks his while shifting his burning eyes to your father, absentmindedly nodding at something he says.
The forbidden nature of your attraction to each other is the very essence of its intoxication.
You adjust the red glasses on your face with your finger and close your book harshly before slowly getting up from your chair, making sure to do it with your eyes gues to Yoongi, who stares at you while licking his pouty lips, not even paying any attention to whatever your father is telling him.
You giggle and stretch your arms, the skimpy bikini revealing almost all of your breasts, doing the job you wanted when you chose this specific pair a few hours ago when your father told you Yoongi would be passing by for some work meeting at your house.
You pass your red nails through your luscious hair and accidentally let your book fall to the ground. You turn your body so your ass can face Yoongi, and you slowly reach for your book, making sure to tilt your body so your bikini can reveal as much as it can of your ass.
You smirk as you get up, and it only gets wider as you watch Yoongi uncomfortably crossing his legs and trying his best not to let his gaze fall down on you while he says something to your parents.
You grab your cherry vape and take a small puff of it before putting it deep inside your bag where your father could never see—even at twenty-three years of age, your father can’t see you smoke anything or else he’ll have your fucking head.
You grab your bag and walk toward the living room, and once you slide the glass door, you are met with the deep laughter of your father while Yoongi faintly chuckles while shifting on his seat.
“Oh, hey, princess! Say hi to Yoongi.” Your father smiles, and your mother sips on her wine, squinting her eyes at you and you tremble before smiling tightly.
“Hi Yoongi.” You send him a small wave while giving a smile that you hope hides the fire that spreads throughout your body.
“Hey, ____.” Yoongi passes his index hand on his sinner's lips while he scans your body, and your oblivious father chuckles while pressing a small kiss to your hand.
“Actually, Jisun, I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, princess, why don’t you be a sweetheart and take Yoongi here to the bathroom, hm? I don’t think he knows where he is, do you?”
“No, not really. I haven’t gotten used to your new house, yet. You went quite big with this one.” Yoongi chuckles, and your father laughs snobbishly.
“Um, okay, come with me, Yoongi.” You innocently giggle, and your father takes a sip of your whiskey while Yoongi follows you to the bathroom.
Your mother rolls her eyes and deeply sighs.
“What’s wrong with you lately, Bora?”
“Nothing, Jisun. Nothing.” She takes a large sip of her wine, and your father hums in suspicion before taking a call on his phone.
You can feel Yoongi’s heavy presence behind you as you both walk toward the guest bathroom. You open the door with a trembling hand, and once you get in, rough hands push you to the counter and throw your glasses to the ground
You wince at the slight pain while a river flows through your skinny bikini and down to your thick thighs, and you bite your lip as you watch the older man lock the door with desperation written on his fingers.
Yoongi is quick to imprison your body with his hips, his big bulge hitting your thighs while he grabs your hair, sharp pain coursing through your scalp.
“Filthy little slut,” His deep chuckle is overridden with lust, while his eyes incinerate arson deep within your veins, an ardent pleasure spreading through your body.
You bat your lashes, faking innocence in your eyes as he whispers in your ear, “Trying to seduce me with that fuckin’ ass while I’m talking to your parents. Does your dad know his princess is a fucking whore behind the curtains, hm?”
“I don’t know what you mea–hmph.” You choke when his tattooed fingers suddenly enter your mouth, reaching the back of your throat with ease.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, bitch.” Yoongi growls, the rasp in his voice getting deeper as he stares at you with passion mixed with monstrous lust. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you? Filled that filthy pussy with my cum yesterday and you already want more, hm?”
You eagerly nod your head, your mind wandering to the night before when he filled you like his cum dump, his white seed spilling through your thick thighs, leaving you oh-so-pleased and in pure bliss.
You suck his fingers, saliva dancing on your lips and dripping on your chin and cheeks, and Yoongi laughs at just how pathetic you look. Pathetic just for him.
“What do you want me to do to you, doll?” He finally takes his fingers out of your mouth which is now stained with your red gloss, and you cough twice before biting your lips. “C’mon, tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
You hold your breath before whispering, “Want your cock. Want you to fi-fill me up again.”
“Want me to put my cum deep inside you, hm?”
You nod your head, “Uh-huh.”
“Hmm, dunno if you deserve it.”
You scoff, “Of course I deserve it. And I know you want to be buried deep inside me. You want it as much as I do.”
Yoongi pokes the inside of his cheek, “Hate it that you’re fuckin’ right.”
The older man forcefully grabs your cheeks with one of his veiny hands, enough to well your eyes with tears of pleasure. “Spread those legs for me, brat.”
Yoongi helps to place you on top of the counter, and he immediately spreads your legs and unwraps the bow of your bikini, and before you know it, you stand naked, vulnerable before his devilish eyes.
Yoongi falls to his knees, his hot breaths on your pussy sending shivers throughout every inch of your spine. He stares at how copious amounts of slick easily drip out of your aching pussy, and he almost moans loudly at the thought that it is all just for him.
Yoongi suddenly licks one single, slow stripe of your slit, and you tremble, unwanted moans slipping out of your slutty mouth.
“You gotta stay quiet for me, yeah? Can’t have your parents knowing what’s going on, hm?”
You widen your eyes at the thought and whimper once he places kitten licks on your pussy, licking all your wetness out and moaning deeply at your sweet taste.
“I’m way too horny to eat you out today, baby. Gonna slip inside you, k?”
“Oh, I’m fine with that.” You lazily giggle and grope one of your breasts you know he is obsessed with, “Want you to fill me up, Daddy.”
Yoongi groans while standing up, “Fucking hell. You know you have me weak when you call me that.”
The sound of Yoongi taking his metal belt off echoes through the large bathroom, and you lick your lips in anticipation, desire burning through your skin as you watch his big cock spring free from his white boxers, slapping on his thighs.
Yoongi smirks and slowly strokes his hard-rock length, “You want daddy’s cock, slut?”
“Mhm.” You nod eagerly, drool forming on your lips as you stare at his veiny dick that twitches just for you.
“Say it.” Yoongi growls and you silently whine.
“Want your cock, daddy. Want you to stretch me out. Fill me up.”
Yoongi faintly moans, his eyes closing in bliss while his cock twitches his hand, “Shit, baby girl, you have no idea what you do to me.”
Yoongi closes your thighs, and you furrow your eyebrows, your heart preparing for disappointment, “Stand up and turn around. Want you to look at yourself while I fuck you.”
You sigh in relief, and do as he says. Once you turn around, you gasp at the image of your naked self with Yoongi’s broad, tattoed body behind you.
What a view.
The older man’s veiny fingers trail the skin of your stomach, and you tremble under his tender touch before he slips two fingers inside your cunt, “Who’s pussy is this?”
“Daddy’s pussy.” You moan out while he spreads your legs, and your face turns hot as you stare at how his rough fingers split your red cunt apart.
“Only mine.”
“Only yours.” You moan, and Yoongi hums in satisfaction.
Yoongi’s free hand wraps around your neck and puts little pressure, but enough to make your head dizzy as you stare at the hot reflection in the mirror.
He bites your earlobe before whispering inside your ear, his burning hot breath making your body tremble, “Gonna slip inside now, yeah?”
You nod your head, and you moan once he slips inside your wet folds. You whimper, lewd sounds echoing through the white bathroom, and Yoongi’s hand goes to your tummy, rubbing it in soothing motions as you get used to the slight pain.
Even after so many times, you still can’t get used to just how big he is.
“Yoongi.” You moan, throwing your head back to his shoulder.
Yoongi squeezes the air out of your throat for one second, which causes you to bring your head back as you gasp for air, “That’s not my name right now, whore.”
“Sorry d-daddy.” You whimper, and Yoongi chuckles at your humiliation, more slick dripping down your pussy and coating his eager cock.
Yoongi’s hips roughly buck upwards once, his balls slapping onto your ass while your body bucks forwards, but his hand wrapped around your stomach prevents your head from hitting the sink.
Your eyes widen in fear, but before you can say anything, Yoongi places the sweetest butterfly kisses onto your neck, “Don’t worry. I got you, hm? I promise.”
You nod your head, “Okay, y-yeah. Okay.”
“Gonna move now, baby. What’s your safe word?”
You smile lazily while Yoongi slowly moves his hips in a round motion, trying to get the slightest of friction while he waits for you to get used to him, “Snowflake.”
“Good girl.”
Yoongi pulls his cock out so just the tip is inside you, before roughly thrusting inside once again, sparing no mercy to your red pussy. You moan at the incinerating sensation, his balls slapping on your ass, wet slapping sounds filling the room with your sin.
“Ugh, so fuckin’ big,” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he continues to thrust into you at an animalistic pace, your tits jumping at the same rhythm of his thrusts, and Yoongi grunts inside your ear at the filthy reflection.
His hand rests on your neck, and you feel dizzy at the light, sudden squeeze of your throat. Yoongi’s other tattooed hand that rests on your tummy traces the big bulge that forms each time he thrusts up inside you, the tip of his cock deliciously kissing your cervix.
Your consciousness slips away with the intense pleasure, your heart racing at the rough thrusts, and Yoongi smirks at your fucked out state, “Look at just how good you take me, little slut. You were made for my cock, hm?”
You eagerly nod your head, “Yes! Ye—”
Yoongi’s hand slaps your mouth, shutting you up, and your eyes widen while his mouth goes to your ear, “Quiet.”
Your pussy squeezes around him, your climax close, and Yoongi groans into your ear while his thrusts get even faster, sloppier. The rhythm of lust as euphoria consumes you both.
“I’m fuckin’ close. Gonna come inside this slutty pussy baby. Gonna fill you to the brim and make you walk around the house with my cum dripping from your thighs. Gonna mark you so everyone knows you’re fucking Min Yoongi’s property.”
You moan at the thought of being his, and he chuckles darkly, his ring-filled hands tracing the skin of your stomach and going down to expertly roll his index finger on your puffy clit. “You like that? Like the thought of being mine, hm?”
You moan into his hand, and he finally lets you breathe once he takes the hand from your mouth, “Yes, wanna be yours. Wanna—ugh!”
Yoongi opens your legs, and his hand grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at the lewd reflection of your pussy taking his cock and how your slick gets pushed roughly back inside you by his fat length. “Look at how that pretty pussy takes my cock. And don’t take your eyes off of it until I cum inside, got it.”
“Uh, uh—daddy, fuck!” His tongue pokes his cheek as he continues to thrust inside you, and before you know it, your body trembles as your climax consumes, you, yet, you follow his command and never take your eyes off the mirror.
“Fuck, baby, I’m cum–cumming for you.” Your orgasm triggers his and with stuttering hips and sloppy thrusts, Yoongi’s cock twitches one last time before his seed slips inside you, painting your walls white as he fills you up.
You both watch in a trance as copious amounts of his white, sticky release drips out of your pussy and into your thighs as he slowly pulls out, and Yoongi wastes no time before slipping two of his veiny fingers inside you, all the while panting desperately on your shoulder.
He slowly pushes his cum inside you while licking your neck within his pants, and you throw your head back, gasping for any oxygen for your restricted lungs.
Yoongi maps out your shoulder with his kisses before he traces his tongue all the way to your ear. He bites your earlobe before whispering, “I love you.”
You gasp, and turn around to meet his glimmering eyes, “Wh-what?”
“I love you, my princess. I have for a while now.” Yoongi smiles shyly, his hand cupping your cheek while his thumb gently caresses your skin, “Be mine. Please?”
“What about my—my dad? He can’t know, I—”
“Do you love me?”
“But—”
“Forget about your fucking dad for a second, dammit.” Yoongi groans, before cupping your other cheek with his other hand, forcing your eyes to meet his desperate ones that call for your soul, “Do you love me?”
You sigh, closing your eyes before opening again, “I do. Fuck, I love you, Yoongi. I have for so fucking long.”
Yoongi smiles brightly, secret relief overcoming through his nerves, “Then be mine, baby. We’ll deal with your dad together. Then we’ll get a house together while you go through law school. How does that sound, hm?”
You smile, tears of joy welling in your eyes, “That sounds perfect.”
You lean in, your lips dancing with each other in the most gentle kiss, your heart that once bled in desperation for his, now heals as it wraps around his soul the way fate intended to.
You both disconnect your lips with a gasp once you hear a loud knocking on the bathroom door, reality crashing on you as you hear your father’s deep voice, “Yoongi, are you taking a shit or what? I need you back, I can’t fucking stand my wife right now.”
Yoongi takes in a deep breath before shouting back, “Just got caught up with some things, I’ll be there in five!”
“Alright.” Your father groans, and once his steps are too far to hear, both you and Yoongi let out a breath of relief.
“I love you.” He whispers into your ear, “We’ll be okay, hm?”
Your soul glitters and you smile, “I love you, too.”
A/N: Don't mind me, haha. Here is the new and improved Moonlight Reign! You do not have to read the old version (if anything pls don't it is not written well AT ALL) I've changed many many things about the story, but I hope all my readers enjoy nonetheless
Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader
Warnings: 18+, fem/fem-bodied reader, yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, poly relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mafia activities, crime, manipulation, crying, trauma, sensory flashbacks, blood, gore, murder, pining, past abuse, past neglect, familial issues, academic neglect, eventual smut, fictional events in a fictional world that I do not condone irl (specialized warnings will be at the top of each chapter)
pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut
synopsis:
min yoongi is urgent.
in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent.
how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.
the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent.
but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid.
until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.
wordcount: 3.2K
note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!
PART TWO // PART THREE
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.
"I told you last time—"
"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."
With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered.
Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs.
"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"
"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"
"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."
"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."
Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it.
Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour.
Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.
"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him.
It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve.
You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it.
"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."
Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet.
Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.
And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.
By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now.
It's how it usually goes.
He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.
Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.
Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much.
You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.
Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.
"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong.
The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet.
You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.
He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.
Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.
Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage.
Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.
"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.
Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.
But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.
Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.
Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.
Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.
Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.
Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.
It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him.
Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan.
You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.
Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details.
"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."
"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down.
Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."
Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish.
"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."
Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all.
"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later.
"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."
"Untrue."
"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."
"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."
Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.
But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless.
And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.
But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—
You're out like a light.
The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this.
Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.
"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously.
"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun.
The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight.
Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.
"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."
"Sure?"
"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"
"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.
"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."
For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.
What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear.
He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.
Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate.
It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.
It never is.
And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties.
So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.
"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.
Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks.
Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy.
You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.
And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.
All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?
Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.
Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?
But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation.
"Do you want me to?"
"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"
"Right."
"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."
"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"
"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.
"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."
Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.
"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it.
Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.
"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him.
See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score.
You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation.
Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer.
He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival.
Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.
There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other.
"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."
Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.
You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.
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