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justatiredpotato · 5 years ago

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Set Me Free | Chapter 7 (Ending)

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 4,000~ Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: mentions of physical abuse, injuries, blood, trauma, a lot of crying but there’s a happy ending I swear

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

Another Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic! It took a long time for me to finish and edit, but I’m so glad I finally got the idea out of my head and into the world. I’ve been kicking around ideas for a little epilogue (something short and fluffy) if anyone would be interested in that. I also have plans for future fics with the other boys in this same AU. :)

As soon as you recognized the man in the video, you called the police. Kwon Hyunjoong’s name wasn’t unfamiliar to the city police. They’d had multiple run-ins with him investigating hybrid crimes. But he was always careful enough to worm his way out of the charges. The lax hybrid rights laws didn’t help the situation. Even with all the progress and new policies implemented in recent years there was often next to nothing that could be done to stop the atrocities. Fortunately, since Yoongi was registered as yours, the police could pursue it as a theft and potentially damage to personal property. Depending on the degree of harm, it could be brought to trial as an animal abuse case. You didn’t like it, but it was the only way they could help you.

The problem was that Hyunjoong had multiple establishments at different locations, so the police weren’t sure where to start looking. Luckily the head of the hybrid crimes division, Detective Moon Bora, was more than happy to take it as an opportunity for a police raid on several of his known locations. Hopefully that would give them a chance to gather evidence and shut at least part of his operation down. Still, you needed to find the place he’d taken Yoongi too. You remembered the business card the snake of a man had given you when he came into the cafe. You quickly dialed Jin, who was still at your apartment with the rest of the guys.

“Jin, can you look for something in my desk? It’s a business card, mostly purple with some kind of logo on it. Should say the name Kwon Hyunjoong on it,” you said, not bothering with a hello.

“On it,” Jin said. You heard his footsteps and then the shuffling as he rifled through your desk drawers. “Got it! The Eclipse Club. *** W. **th Street. Is that where he is?”

“Maybe,” you responded, then hung up. You quickly called the police back and told them what was on the card. They assured you’d they’d send units there immediately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to just wait. So you snagged Namjoon’s keys out of his pocket and ran back to the car. By the time he, Jimin, and Jungkook caught up you were already pulling out of the parking lot. Namjoon banged on the window and tugged at the door handle but the doors had locked automatically when you put it in drive and there was no way you were stopping the car. You didn’t even glance in the rearview as you drove away, not seeing your little brother run his hands through his hair in frustration, Jungkook frantically dialing for a cab, and Jimin watching with wide, frightened eyes.

You punched the address into your phone’s GPS at the next light. To say you were speeding would be an understatement of comical proportions, but none of the cops that zipped past you with their sirens blaring, seemed to care. It both comforted and terrified you to see the pure volume of police heading to the same destination as you. You pulled up in front of the club to find several police cars already stopped near the entrance. The officers were trying to set up a perimeter so no potential witnesses or perpetrators could slip away. They weren’t being nearly as cautious about letting people in, so you managed to shoulder your way through the writhing crowd of sweaty and inebriated club-goers.

Once inside you suddenly felt overwhelmed. You had no idea where to start looking. With no better ideas, you started elbowing people aside and moving through the building, screaming Yoongi’s name. A young girl—she couldn’t have been more than nineteen—with round black ears nestled in her curly white hair bumped into you. One of her eyes was blacked and a split ran through her pretty doll-like lip. She hurried to apologize, straightening her microscopic tulle skirt as she bowed. You quickly grabbed her arm drawing her eyes back up to meet yours.

“Yoongi!” you shouted at her. She frowned, understandably confused. “I’m looking for a guy called Yoongi,” you said again, leaning closer in hopes she could hear you better over the deafening sound of the crowd and the music still blaring through the speakers.

“Yoongi?” she said, clearly not recognizing the name. Your heart sank as you realized with horror that Kwon Hyunjoong might not have brought Yoongi here. “Yeah. Smallish guy, soft cheeks, honey-blond hair, little black cat hears and tail.” You described, hoping to jog her memory.

“Suga?” she said, coming to a realization. “They just brought him back. The master took him to the cage.” She nodded to a hallway in the back where several police officers were already shoving their way though the crowd. “He looked angry,” she added with a frown, ears twitching nervously.

“Thank you,” you said, giving her arm a squeeze as you started pushing through the crowd again. You reached the hallway relatively easily but your progress slowed when you came upon a crowd of officers gathered around a doorway, trying to usher two burly men in handcuffs through the throngs of inebriated people. You continued pushing your way through, managing to escape their notice for the most part even as you elbowed a few cops in the ribs. When you got close enough to the doorway you saw a set of metal stairs leading down, and heard a familiar voice echoing up the passage. Even in the form of pained wails and animal panic, you knew that voice.

“Yoongi!” you screeched, lurching past the last two people between you and the door. You practically fell down the stairs in your haste, the cops behind you shouting at you to stop. The officer at the door downstairs was shocked still for a moment by the appearance of your small, frantic frame. He came back to himself as you pushed past him, and he caught your arm to prevent you from entering. The wild swing of your arm caught you both off guard as you wrenched your arm free, stumbling forward onto your hands and knees and catching the officer in the jaw with a backhand in the process.

“Hey, stop right there!” the man shouted, but you were already moving toward the pale figure trying to make himself disappear into the corner. Yoongi hunkered there, pale and shaking in just a pair of boxers. Blood splattered the fabric where it dripped from lashes in his back and thighs. Two police officers, a man and a woman, stood a few feet away trying to get closer to help.

“What do we do?” the man asked.

“I don’t know. We might have to tranquilize him if he won’t let us get close.”

“S***, I hate to do it though. He’s already pretty messed up.” The male officer eyed the tranq gun in his hand unhappily.

“He needs medical attention thou-” the woman started. You’d heard more than enough.

“Yoongi!” you cried again, sprinting across the room to him, the officer from the door right on your heels.

“Miss, stop! It’s dangerous.”

You got within a few feet of Yoongi, but pulled up short when he hissed, actually hissed at you. He tried to shuffle further away. That was when you noticed one of his legs stretched out, held by a chain bolted to the center of the room. Everytime he tried to escape further the chain bit into his flesh, the skin already raw and bleeding there.

“Yoon? Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Yeoji-noona. Yoongi, baby, please.”

His head lifted just the tiniest bit as he looked at you. “Noona?” he said weakly. His voice was raw and wobbly, barely audible, but that was all you needed to hear. You were at his side in a heartbeat. He finally moved forward a bit, no longer pulling against the chain and you heard him draw a breath through his teeth at the sting as the metal shifted against the wound on his ankle. He pressed himself to you, burying his face in your chest. You did your best to hold him without touching the raw skin of his back.

You pulled away for a moment and he sobbed, panicked, so you hurried to peel off your sweater and pull it over his body. He didn’t even put his arms through the sleeves, more concerned with getting as close to you as possible. Your scent enveloping him made him feel so safe despite the intense pain he was in, and that only made him sob harder. You knew the movement from crying so hard must hurt considering how bad his injuries were, so you patted his hair soothingly, wrapping an arm over his waist and hip—the least damaged section of skin you could find—to hold him closer. It took a moment to realize that it wasn’t just his cries filling the room, you were crying with him.

The cops gave up on pulling you away from him, so you sat like that for several minutes. The voices in the room seemed very far away, not that you could hear very well anyway over your own breathing and pounding heartbeat. Someone touched your shoulder, lightly trying to pull you away. You shook them off with a terrified cry that didn’t even seem human. It was a primal wail of heartbreak and terror at even the hint of separating you from Yoongi.

“Noona.” A warm voice broke through your emotional haze. “Noona, hyung, it’s Hoseok. It’s okay. We’ve got you.”

You lifted your face from where it was buried in Yoongi’s hair, and found Hoseok standing there, emergency response bag in hand.

“Hobi,” you said, voice barely holding. “Help him.” Despite your words, you didn’t let Yoongi go, only turning with him in your arms so Hoseok could get a look at his back. He packed some gauze onto the wounds and then waved over two men with a stretcher.

“We’ve gotta get him to a hospital. The staff at my hospital is fantastic, they’ll look after you.” You bristled as the two paramedics settled Yoongi on his stomach on the stretcher, never letting go of his hand.

“You aren’t coming with us?” you asked.

“Yoongi-hyung isn’t the only person here who needs medical attention. Some of them are going straight to the shelter. I need to stay and help out.”

“Take us to the shelter too,” you decided. “Someone else can go to the hospital. I only trust you and Jin’s staff.”

“Noona…”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi, mumbled into the cushion of the stretcher. He winced as he spoke, not continuing, but you both took it as him weighing in on the argument. Hoseok sighed and turned to the paramedics.

“Take them to Remedy shelter. Taehyung will be waiting for you at the emergency entrance.” Hoseok placed a comforting kiss on top of your head and hurried off to help elsewhere.

The ambulance ride was silent and tense as you hovered over the paramedics’ every move. You shot daggers at them when Yoongi so much as winced. You knew it wasn’t their fault, but your protective instincts were in overdrive, especially after having failed him so recently.

Taehyung was indeed waiting at the emergency entrance for you. Other ambulances were also unloading patients. Apparently Detective Moon had been serious about the extent of the raids taking place that night. Tae was frantically checking patients in and dealing with drivers and medical staff.

“Yoongi-hyung!” he cried, abandoning the conversation he’d been having as soon as the ambulance doors opened. He appeared around the door, eyes puffy and red, obvious tear tracks staining his cheeks. His voice hiccuped as he spoke and it made more tears fall from your eyes. To be honest they had never really stopped. Yoongi didn’t answer, passed out from a combination of pain, pain-killers, and exhaustion. Tae looked at you anxiously, the question clear in his eyes.

“He’s- He’ll be okay. I think he’ll be okay,” was all you managed.

A doctor met you at the door. He was young, handsome, and remarkably calm. “Dr. Ko Shinwon,” he introduced himself as the paramedics wheeled Yoongi to a trauma bay and transferred him to a hospital bed. They briefed Dr. Ko on Yoongi’s condition before returning to the ambulance. A nurse stepped in to assist him as Dr. Ko started working.

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside,” another nurse asked. She placed a gentle hand on your arm to guide you away.

“No! No, I can’t leave him.” You stepped closer to Yoongi’s side.

“Miss, I really have to insist.”

Yoongi groaned, making Dr. Ko and the nurses glance at him. He slipped his hand off the edge of the bed and felt for your fingers, threading them together and holding on tightly. “Noona, please,” he whimpered.

“It’s fine, Nurse Jung. Please just try to keep out of the way, miss.” He gave you a serious, appraising look before going about his tasks. You crouched next to Yoongi, gently petting his hair and whispering sweet nonsense, shushing and cooing every time he winced at pain that managed to cut through the numbing. The stitches were the worst part, and it was all you could do to avert your eyes and not pass out. Once the wounds were dressed Dr. Ko excused himself to see his next patient and the nurses checked monitors and IVs. They told you to call if anything changed, then slipped out and pulled the curtain shut.

A few moments later Yoongi shuddered and whimpered a little. “Cold,” he said.

You straightened and looked around, spotting a blanket folded in the cupboard next to the bed. You pulled it out with the hand Yoongi wasn’t clinging to and draped it over him. Then you paused, considering. Yoongi shivered again and you quickly made up your mind, slipping under the blanket next to him. Your body was only half way on the bed, wanting to leave more than enough room for him, but you didn’t care. He immediately shifted, wincing a little at the movement, and settled with his head on your chest, side pressed tightly to yours. You ran your hands through his hair.

You sat quietly for a while, listening as his breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed. The familiar warmth reminded you of the night before, and the thought brought tears to your eyes again. How could you have been so blind to Yoongi’s feelings? You hurt him so badly, and you almost lost him because of it. You held back from crying harder again, not wanting to disturb Yoongi, but your guilt over the whole situation ate at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, looking lovingly at the boy before you.

“‘m sorry, noona.”

You startled at the sound of his voice, surprised he was listening. “Don’t be sorry, baby. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Made you uncomfortable. Shouldn’t have done that. Made you worry. ‘s bad. Sorry.”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. You aren’t bad. My sweet honey boy, you are so perfect. I love you,” you said. Your voice was thick with emotion but you said the words clearly, with certainty.

Yoongi chuckled, flinching as he did so. You could feel the movement against your chest. “Not the same. ’s okay. Doesn’t have to be the same. Just let me love you ‘n I’m okay.”

You craned your neck to look at him. “What if it is the same? Yoongi, it is the same. I love you so much, I can’t believe you haven’t seen through me yet.” He tilted his head up to face you, uncertainty creasing his brow. You smiled softly and ran your thumb over his face to smooth out the wrinkle. “I love you, Yoongi.” You hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and pressed a firm but gentle kiss to his lips. You’d imagined doing this an embarrassing number of times, but somehow, they were even softer than you expected. The kiss only lasted a second before you pulled away, examining his face for a reaction. He didn’t disappoint, gracing you with the gummy smile that could single-handedly keep your heart beating. His eyelids were heavy, but he clearly had things to say.

“Love you,” he mumbled. His next words were more or less unintelligible.

“Shh,” you stopped him, running your fingers through his hair and scratching gently at his ears. “Talk tomorrow.”

He grumbled a protest, but didn’t try to say anything more. Instead he leaned his face up toward you expectantly. You chuckled and gave him three quick pecks, one on his forehead, one on his button nose, and one on his pouty lips. He smiled into that last kiss, then nuzzled into your neck where your scent was strongest. The combination of your perfume and your natural fragrance lulled him into unconsciousness within minutes, one of his hands finding the soft flesh of your hip to knead at. You smiled, wiped the tears from your cheeks with your free hand, and closed your eyes.

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Yoongi was in the hospital for two weeks. The beating had done some internal damage and the doctors were concerned about infection in the lacerations on his back. The boys helped out, taking care of things at the cafe so you could spend every possible moment by Yoongi’s bedside.

The relief you felt when they gave him the okay to go home was indescribable. It felt like you finally had permission to get back to normal. But of course, things weren’t entirely back to normal. Sometimes it felt like all the progress Yoongi made when he came to live with you had evaporated. He was jumpy and timid again, shying away from the boys when they came around. He even flinched away from you sometimes when you moved too fast.

You realized quickly that you couldn’t have him working with the public in the cafe again. Not yet. So Jimin and Jungkook picked up extra shifts whenever they could. You thanked them at least once every time you saw them, but they just brushed you off. You had to fight tooth and nail for them to take the pay for their extra hours. Every time you had to leave Yoongi and look after the business it broke your heart. He always watched you walk out the door as if you might not come back to him.

One particularly warm spring afternoon Jimin burst into the cafe, running late and still wearing his clothes from dance practice.

“Sorry I’m late, noona! Let me go get changed,” he panted as he slipped behind the counter.

“No worries. You can use my room to change in.” You nodded back toward the apartment and he ran off to get cleaned up for work. When he reemerged barely ten minutes later he managed to look more put together than you did after a half hour of effort. His bubble-gum pink hair nicely coiffed instead of the disheveled state it was in when he arrived.

“How do you always look so nice?” you marveled. You reached up and scratched his ear, careful not to disturb his neatly styled hair. He purred happily at the compliment. You hoped someday Yoongi might purr as freely as Jimin did.

“Thanks!” Jimin smiled, eyes turning to little crescent lines as he did. “I can take it from here. You should get back to Yoongi-hyung.” He paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something else. “Noona, aren’t you guys…?” He let the words hang in the air, but you knew what he was asking.

The truth was, after your confession that night in the hospital, you hadn’t really talked about your relationship. With everything that happened, it just never seemed like the right time. You spent much of the time since then wrapped in Yoongi’s arms, or him in yours, even placing the occasional peck on his cheek. But it was like both of you feared going any further. You saw the hesitation in his eyes everytime he stood just a little too close to you, or looked into your eyes a little too long. He couldn’t seem to find the courage to say or do anything, and you didn’t want to push him too far. He would make a move when he was ready, right?

You blinked, realizing Jimin had been waiting for you to speak while you stared into space. “I- I don’t know, Jimin. We were. At least I thought we were… something. I told him I loved him, in the hospital.” Jimin’s eyes widened, a hint of a smile on his lips. You leaned on the counter and let out a sigh before continuing. “He seemed happy. He even said it back. But we haven’t talked about it since then. He was so high on adrenaline and painkillers then, I’m not even sure he knew what he was saying.”

Jimin stopped you before you could make any more excuses. “He knew. Noona, he’s loved you for so much longer than you realize. But you know better than anyone else how scared he must be. If you rejected him, he might never recover, so he can’t do anything at all. I’m sure he feels like you’re too good for him. He needs you to assure him that you love him, and he deserves that.” You looked at Jimin, amazed at the wisdom he’d just dropped out of nowhere. He smiled, clearly pleased with the advice he’d given and your reaction. “I sounded pretty cool just now, huh?”

You grinned pulling him into a vicious bear hug. “Yes my sweet Chim Chim, you were super cool just now. Thank you.” You pulled back and he examined your face, clearly reading the nervousness there and in your scent. “I need to go talk to Yoongi.”

You took a steadying breath and he patted your shoulder. “Fighting!” he cheered as he waved you off.

Back in the apartment dinner was already finished. Yoongi was waiting at the table scrolling on his phone.

“I’m sorry I’m late Yoongs! Let me go change real quick.” You quickly peeled off your work clothes and put on shorts and a tank top, knowing the apartment was already warm, and it would be warmer when Yoongi inevitably wanted snuggles later. You returned to the table and took a chair across from him.

“Wow, this looks great!” You looked over the table, genuinely impressed. Yoongi had been cooking a lot lately. He found it was a relaxing way to pass his time, and he loved to see you enjoy what he prepared. You’d purchased several new kitchen tools and appliances for him, and he used them all. “Did you make this pasta yourself?” you asked, incredulous as he served you a generous slice of lasagna. Glancing at the kitchen counter you found the pasta press out, still dusted with flour. He nodded bashfully in response.

“This is my first attempt, so don’t expect too much. I’m just hoping it’s edible.” You both laughed and dug into the food. It was great. All of Yoongi’s first attempts seemed to end up delicious, unlike your kitchen misadventures.

After dinner you settled onto the couch together. He was sprawled half on top of you, laying between the back of the couch and your body, head on your shoulder. He was focused on the TV—he’d been watching obsessed with old Iron Chef episodes of late—but you were focused on him, hands gently stroking his hair and ears. A satisfied smile spread on your face when the now-familiar rumble started from his chest. You decided that now, when he was happy and relaxed, was as good a time as any to talk about everything.

“Yoon?” you called softly, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“Hm?” He looked up at you questioningly.

“Can we talk about something?” You tried to phrase it in a non-threatening way and keep your tone light, but his brow still furrowed as he grabbed the remote to pause his show.

“What do you want to talk about?” He propped himself up on one elbow and avoided your eyes.

“It’s nothing bad. At least I really hope not,” you said with a nervous laugh that did little to ease Yoongi’s anxiety. “Do you remember that first night in the hospital?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, then looked away again. Clearly he remembered something. “Some of it. It’s a little blurry in spots. What about it?”

“We… We talked about some things. Do you remember that?” You looked at him expectantly, but he stayed quiet. “I told you I love you,” you said quietly.

He looked at you sharply. “That was real?” he asked, almost more to himself than to you.

“What?”

“I thought I dreamed that. I was on so much pain medication that I figured I was hallucinating or something. You- You actually said that?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes. And I meant it. I still mean it. I’d like to be more than just your friend, if that’s something you want.” You put a hand on his cheek so he’d hold your gaze, stroking it gently with your thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Yoongi said without hesitation. His eyes were glassy and he studied your face for a moment. Half of him expected this to be a cruel prank, but you didn’t laugh. You just smiled softly, admiring the soft features of his face. You reached down to clasp your other hand with his.

“Does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?” you asked, still somehow nervous now that everything was out in the open.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kissed you. After a second he leaned back and looked at you to gage your reaction. You smiled and leaned up, bumping his nose with yours. He grinned and kissed you again. His lips moved against yours, gentle but you could feel the emotion in every move. You ran your fingers through his soft blond hair, tugging on it a little and he nipped teasingly at your lip. You let out a surprised gasp and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. You enthusiastically followed his lead, wrapping your leg over his hip to pull his body closer to yours. Your hand pulled free from his to rest on his waist. He shuddered as you trailed your fingers down his side. The hand not supporting his weight grabbed your hip. Your fingers found the edge of his t-shirt and slid under it, finding the warm skin of his back.

At the feeling of your fingers on his bare skin he tensed, breaking the kiss. You looked at him confused, but immediately stopped touching him, removing your leg and releasing your gentle grip on his hair. He sat up, his body shaking a little.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?” you asked, growing concerned at his obvious distress.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just.” He squeezed his eyes shut and slowed his breathing. You waited, resting your hand palm up on your lap so he could take it if he wanted to. He did. He twined your fingers together and took a longer, slower breath before he spoke. “I’ve never had someone I actually like, y’know, touch me, or kiss me. It felt nice, but when you touched my skin, my scars…” Your fingers tightened on his hand, heart aching as you realized what he was getting at. “I just started to remember all the bad times, the bad people, the things they did, the things they made me do.”

“We can go as slow as you need. Whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s enough for me.”

He huffed, frustrated tears welling in his eyes. “I just- I want this. I love you and I trust you. I hate that I’m letting them take this from me; letting them beat me.”

“Hey.” You wiped a tear from his cheek and kissed his forehead. “They are not beating you. You’re here, with me. You are safe and healthy. You’re still able to love someone, and you are loved. You have a family. Despite everything you’ve been through, you survived. Sure, you have scars, but you’re working hard to heal. I am so proud of you, Yoongi. You deserve a happy ending, and you’ll get one. We both will.”

“You think?”

“I know. I promise, we’ll get through this.”

He nodded and lay back down, resting his head on your chest so he could listen to your heartbeat. You resumed the forgotten episode of Iron Chef and went back to playing with his hair. You were just dozing off, his purr lulling you to sleep, when Yoongi spoke again.

“Noona?”

“Mhm?”

“I really love you.”

You smiled, already half in a dream. “I love you too, honey boy.” You kissed his head and fell asleep with your face tucked in his hair.

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