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casuallyimagining · 6 months

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Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days.

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified.

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.

You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.

“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…”

I want to apologize.

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”

He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.

“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise.

“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”

Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.

You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.

Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.

You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.

The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”

You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone.

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’

Kinder for whom?

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering.

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger.

He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.

There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up.

Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.

You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.

Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.

It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.

I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?

At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.

Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.

Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you?

Would you still be there if I had?

You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left.

The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic.

You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.

Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.

“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees.

His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables.

You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.

“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.

Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.

But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too.

He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled.

That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.

You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.

Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.

You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors.

The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).

As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.

Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-

“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.

“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.

Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.

A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”

The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.

A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.

He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park.

It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died.

At least they’d had each other during it.

You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…

“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert.

His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.

You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.

At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism.

For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.

It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.

Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.

“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.

“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”

Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?

You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.

The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.

“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”

You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”

“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.

“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”

“That’s really cool.”

Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.

But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.

“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”

Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it.

He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him.

Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.

You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”

The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them.

Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.

You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know.

Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in.

But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.

The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.

I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…

I would like to see you again. Someday.

How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.

The other is from the day he turned 25.

A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…

I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.

I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…

I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.

I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.

Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.

I hope I see you again.

Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.

For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I-”

“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.

He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”

“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”

“I never said-”

“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”

You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How long are you here for?”

Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel.

Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”

Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.

You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.

The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand.

But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.

“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward.

A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.

A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.

You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.

Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue.

One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.

“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom.

She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”

“But-”

“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”

For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”

“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”

You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”

Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick.

It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room.

You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty.

But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly.

You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”

It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter.

“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets.

“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”

Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.

Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see.

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.

“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”

“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”

He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”

“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”

Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”

Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face.

“Right,” you said softly.

“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading.

You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.

Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent.

“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”

“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”

And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.”

And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.

“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.

He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…

Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar.

You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you.

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.

Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.

You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.

Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.

You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.

“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”

“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.

“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”

“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”

“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”

“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”

“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”

“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”

Yoongi groans.

“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”

For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.

You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.

“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.

It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.

“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.

“I will. I promise.”

And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform.

You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.

As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.

Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug

“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.

“Dangerous,” you joke.

“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.

For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you.

The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.

You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”

He laughs. “What rules?”

“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”

“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”

You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.

“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”

“Yoongi.”

He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”

You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.

The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for.

In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.

After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting.

The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.

He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.

You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.

It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.

Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.

He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.

“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.

“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.

An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…

You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.

“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him.

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”

“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”

At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?”

“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.

Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers.

And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.

For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause.

We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space.

At least, you think you are.

But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable.

Oh no.

You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again.

His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger.

You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest.

Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”

You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”

He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…”

You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed.

“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”

“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing.

He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand.

So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.

The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.

It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.

You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response.

There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.

For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.

You’re still holding his hand.

Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.

You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy.

“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”

“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

You push him. “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”

Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”

“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”

Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.

You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible.

You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone.

“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.

“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”

Oh.

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”

Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings.

He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.

“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”

“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”

“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.

A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful.

“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”

He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.

The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.

“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him.

He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch.

There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.

Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden.

He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.

But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring.

His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you.

When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.

12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.

Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms.

okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #set me free

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yoongsisbae · 1 year

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Stories by Member

JJK

Not a Creature was Stirring You wake up Christmas Eve night not to find Santa, but to find a man cold and shivering on your front porch. Clothes tattered, cuts on his body, out in the snow. You find out he’s not as helpless as he appears. Kind of cute, kind of scary, very buff Jungkook Fantasy AU. Spring Day Still with You [Sequel to Not a Creature was Stirring] You ran away from the cold, Jungkook ran with you, warming each other’s hearts. But within the cycle of life, there is death, and as spring blooms, the blood still lays soaked in the dirt. You ran and they chased. Hybrid!Jungkook.

Banana Milk It’s Jungkook’s Birthday, will he get his birthday wish?

The Fantasy You and your boyfriend try out a new form of role play, but it just keeps going wrong…

I Didn’t Mean It, I Still Love You Yoongi made a mistake, will you forgive him? Or is it too late?

Ddak-ji SLAP Jungkook, Seokjin, and you decide to play a game…and then you fu-

Campfire Burning A steamy fic inspired by a certain vlive.

Seven Days a Week Every day, Jungkook shows you his devotion, deeper than the ocean. Seven different scenarios, seven days a week. idol!jungkook x noona!reader

Go Home, You're Drunk! - 75% “Who…are…you…” “Your worst nightmare, sweetheart.” “Really? Because you look like you belong in a boyband.” whacky and dark & for all the girlies who love an unhinged yandere character

The Snap - 70% The only surviving member of BTS, it takes Jungkook five years to find happiness again. And then life snapped back. What is Jungkook going to do now?

KTH

Christmas with a Vampire There once was a time when holidays were warm and special, Taehyung remembers. To you, even in his coldness, Taehyung is all you need for Christmas. Cyber-punk futuristic AU with a self-hating vampire Tae.

BTS Song Fic (Blue and Grey) Sad song. Sad story. Sad author. Happy reader?

V is for Villain 1 / 2 / 3 - 90% What does it mean to be a villain? What does it really mean to be a vigilante? A vanquisher of evil or a victor for the good? Stories praise the fall of devils, cheer at the marvels of the virtuous, and forget the victorious tell a version conveniently veiling their own atrocities. Evilness was once the brightest star in heaven. And goodness, well, morality can so often be contentious. This time, there is the hero with the strength of a hundred men, there is the villain that can vanish his vulnerabilities in a very instant, and then there’s you. Superclumsysuperhero!RMverse AU.

PJM

Christmas Mass Every Sunday, like clockwork, as designed and ordained, you sit quietly. Pray. Christmas mass comes, tonight your congregation dresses beautifully, like ornaments placed in a row right in front of God. Your priest, stands at the head like an angel atop the tree, commanding and pious and hauntingly handsome. Red. You’re a good faithful girl. You were taught to be, punished to be. You pray for respite, for something more than the condemnation this cold and icy town bestows upon you. Sinners. The coldness permeates your bones, you’re always scared. Tainted. Terrified of sin, terrified by your thoughts for your priest. Sacrilegious. This Christmas prayers are answered by no God. Demon AU. Dark smut.

You Asked for Help, He Asked Your Name You ran away from your responsibilities, but they caught you and tried to lay claim to your body. If your life was never going to be yours anyways, you decided might as well give it away and make a deal. fairyprince!Jimin

KNJ

Your Friendly Neighborhood Superhero, RM Best friends 2 Lovers. Idiots 2 Lovers. Lovers 2 Enemies? This is a different kind of superhero story ;) Christmas Lights Out! Agust D vs RM Super Hero Christmas Special! You visit your hometown during the holidays. You and your childhood friend Joon reminisce and you learn more about your smooth tech talker business partner Yoongi. Can he win you over once and for all? Set in Super Clumsy Super Hero RM universe. Extended Scene: The Mind Reader, The Telekinetic and The Closet just silly and raunchy and ridiculous, dirty thoughts...it goes there. V is for Villain 1 / 2 / 3 - 90% What does it mean to be a villain? What does it really mean to be a vigilante? A vanquisher of evil, or a victor for the good? Stories praise the fall of devils, cheer at the marvels of the virtuous, and forget the victorious tell a version conveniently veiling their own atrocities. Evilness was once the brightest star in heaven. And goodness, well, morality can so often be contentious. This time, there is the hero with the strength of a hundred men, there is the villain that can vanish his vulnerabilities in a very instant, and then there’s you.

I Appreciate Your Apology A Christmas party has you on thin ice with your favorite dom. Daddy Joon appreciates your apology, but does he accept it? daddydom!Joon smut, PWP, filth, aka Joon edging you until you see sleighbells.

Cold Feet You don’t want to get married anymore, what does Namjoon want?

JHS

Day Dream The days are hotter, the nights are hotter too. You sleep, restless. Tired, you sleep more, you sleep and you dream and you meet the dream walker and things somehow become even steamier. Sandman!Hoseok Dream Analysis / Alternate Ending

Disco Winter Ball You and your friend Hoseok are best friend buddies going on a date to the annual disco winter ball. But it’s not a date date, okay? You and Hoseok just love music and you love dancing and Hoseok loves watching you dance. Wait not love, not in that way! A friendly love. Just friends. Just two friends who drink a little too much eggnog. HOAL couple holiday special

I Thought You Were Mine? Drunk arguing leads to drunk fuc–

MYG

The Woman with the Black Cat on Her Shoulder Fearful, they buried them, stomped them into the dirt. Underneath their boot, scared men were unaware the seeds of hope had planted by their own volition. From the dirt and grime, grew flowers, blooms so tall, eclipsing their hatred. You were strong and unwilling to be cut down any more. Shapeshiftercat!yoongi.

Yoongi is a Rock That’s it. That’s the plot. Yoongi is a rock. Audio Ver. by the talented @voice-over-ff

I Didn’t Mean It, I Still Love You Yoongi made a mistake, will you forgive him? Or is it too late?

Christmas Lights Out! Agust D vs RM Super Hero Christmas Special! You visit your hometown during the holidays. You and your childhood friend Joon reminisce and you learn more about your smooth tech talker business partner Yoongi. Can he win you over once and for all? Set in Super Clumsy Super Hero RM universe.

King of Corruption [Sequel to Christmas Mass] The organ player takes his time with you, holding you and caressing your body while you sleep, until you can’t discern your dreams from your reality. A king and a sleeping beauty, his name leaves your lips like a prayer, prostated at his feet in blind reverence…the perfect position for him to corrupt and defile you. Demon AU. Dark smut.

KSJ

The Flower Bridge You couldn’t, you didn’t want to, not anymore, the pain was too much, you wanted it to end, so you visited the bridge. Standing at the highest point, the wind stung, but your problems were bigger, your pain was stronger than the whipping air and your anguish deeper than the water below. Tethered in the center, connecting the place you came from and the place you were going, you found another type of bridge and he found you. Ghost!Seokjin.

Meet Cute, Time Loop A story where Seokjin loves you before you love him before he loves you.

Ddak-ji SLAP Jungkook, Seokjin, and you decide to play a game…and then you fu-

Seokjin’s Ho Ho Ho Your boyfriend surprises you with a Christmas dinner on the beach, things get a little steamy, candy canes get sucked, peppermint liquor might be involved, there is definitely some questionable Santa Costume attire, and lots of jolly lovin’! HOAL couple holiday special.

Christmas Lights Out! Agust D vs RM Super Hero Christmas Special! Extended Scene: The Mind Reader, The Telekinetic and The Closet just silly and raunchy and ridiculous, dirty thoughts...it goes there.

Gangnam Girlfriend: Korea’s #1 Celebrity Dating Show with your Host, International Super Star, Jin Welcome to Gangnam Girlfriend! Where Korea’s top eligible singles fight for a chance at love! You're supposed to be playing the dating game right? Not sneaking off in the middle of the night with the show’s host to watch the stars and talk about all your lost love connections, cuddling under a blanket. And even if the choice is clear, Kim Seokjin can't date you, the reason you joined is because you wanted a public relationship, and Jin could neverrr. Even though he wants to finally settle down! But Hybe wouldn't let him join as a contestant so he took the next best thing instead, our story's beloved host, yet now he's regretting his decision as he watches the girl he is starting to fall for fall for someone else, oh no! Meet the Cast / Epi1 - 85%

OT7

SERIES

Bon Voyage: Into the Sea [Fantasy AU] A storm capsized your boat and looks like you were the only survivor. Somehow you made it to shore, but where? Stranded, you suddenly find out you are not alone, and now you’re stuck in the middle of a centuries old conflict between 7 monsters. Member Imagines /Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4 / Ch5 / Ch6 / Ch7 - 5% / ?

Handshakes of a Lifetime [Soulmate AU] …the meeting room is getting closer and closer, basking you and those around you in warm light, and you think about all the internet comments people write about this kind of moment, “she must have saved a country in her past life to experience this.” Playlist / Ch1 / Drabble - JJK / Ch2 / Ch3 / X-mas - JHS / Ch4 / X-mas - KSJ / Ch5 / Ch6 / Ch7 / Ch8 / Ch9 / Ch10 - 10% / ?

Caught! House of Cards [Yandere AU] You needed money. The pandemic offered little options. So you joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? It was a decision you didn’t think too much about, you just wanted an income again. Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. You weren’t prepared for the consequences of your actions. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down… Profiles / Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4 / Xmas Drabble - KTH / Ch5 - 90% / ?

Run Run Run [Zombie Apocalypse AU Slow Burn] A zombie apocalypse breaks out and you’re stuck on a plane with none other than…BTS! Oh, you thought because you were an Army that would help you survive? Girl think again. Member Poll / Seoul Flow / Yangyang Living / Seoul Town Road / Hwarang Freestyle / Seoul Close / Samsung State of Mind - 5% / The Big Hit Break In! - TBA / ?

T H E T A K E O V E R [BTS Apocalypse / Dystopian AU Thriller] The recruits of Bangtan Academy were trained to be super soldiers, to be the strongest, fastest, most cunning fighters in the world. Now they are being put to the test! You were at the bottom of your class, but you noticed the cracks in the system first, what are you going to do? Run or try to save the world Prequel / Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 - 78% / ?

DRABBLES

BTS (as kisses) / BTS (as holidays) / BTS (as drinks)

BTS Cheering You Up While Studying Korean

MASTERLISTS

Naughty Girl Christmas BTS X-MAS Masterlist

Spring Fling Fantasy Stories that Bloom Masterlist

BTS Supers RM Verse Masterlist (coming soon…)

Original Masterlist

#bts masterlist #bts imagines #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fantasy au #bts hybrid au #bts yandere #bts soulmate au #ot7 x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader

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angelicyoongie · 6 months

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lovesick (X)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 4.8k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, spanking as punishment, minor injuries, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous – Next

You wake up to the sound of gravel crunching under Namjoon's shoes.

Your face is tucked against his chest, breathing in the scent of the crisp night air that lingers on his coat. It takes you a moment to reorient yourself, for the last tendrils of unconsciousness to slip away.

It all comes crashing down over you like a cold bucket of water as reality sets in; he's taking you back to the cabin.

It'll be as if the last hours never happened, as if you never stepped foot outside the sturdy wooden structure. You're going back to them – except, perhaps it won't be the same men that you left that you'll have to face once you step back inside. The soulmates you ran away from were terrible and selfish but they were never cruel. After your failed escape attempt, however, you no longer know if that still rings true. If that's something you can count on.

Your body locks up at the thought of the monsters waiting for you down the road, muscles spasming with the need to move despite the utter exhaustion weighing you down.

Namjoon tightens his grip around your middle as you grow stiff, arms locking you securely against his body.

"You're awake," He notes, the usual honey in his voice gone. "It's for the best. We can deal with everything much quicker this way."

The fearful whine that shoots up your throat gets trapped behind your teeth, your lips too numb for the noise to pass through them. It takes great effort for you to move your head over, turning just enough that you're able to pick up on your surroundings. Namjoon must have parked just down the bend from the cabin, his steady steps already closing in on the dark silhouette looming between the trees in the distance.

Your heart feels like it's trying to beat itself out of your chest as you pick up on muffled yells, shivers racing down your frozen spine as you make out six distinct voices. The soft light emanating from the cabin sends ferocious shadows dancing across the ground, their movements erratic and violent.

It gets harder to breathe the closer you get, your chest refusing to move as Namjoon steps up on the small patio in front of the entrance. Blood rushing in your ears, you try to make yourself as small as possible in his arms as he reaches out for the handle, wishing you could just melt away into nothing. Anything would've been better than this.

The cabin goes deadly still as Namjoon pushes the door open.

Your vision blurs as you're brought into the heat, your eyes stinging as you attempt to blink some moisture back into them. You can barely make out the six fuzzy figures scattered around the room, their bodies stock still as if they're frozen in time. The chilly wind that blows into the cabin is nothing compared to the sight that greets you as your eyes adjust – the six men in front of you looking everything from angry to icy to hurt. A few of them even have the gall to glare at you with something akin to betrayal; like you were only stringing them along for your amusement and not your survival.

It leaves you trembling with fear, the knowledge that no matter what you do, nothing will make them understand that they're the ones in the wrong. That they're the selfish ones.

Namjoon takes another step forward, chest rising with a small sigh as he readjusts you in his grip. Perhaps he regrets bringing you back now that he can see the state the others are in, their hair and clothes rumpled, the furniture in the common room strewn about like a hurricane has torn through it.

You glance back up at his face in time to see him set his jaw, his voice tight as he says, "We're back."

The door that slams shut behind him jerks the cabin back into motion, the noise that was sucked out before suddenly rolling over the room like a crashing wave. You screw your eyes shut as their yells blend into each other, feet thundering across the room as they stumble over themselves to reach you.

"What were you thinking?!" You flinch as Taehyung's voice booms across the cabin. You can't discern if it's anger or concern that's got him so agitated, so loud, and that scares you.

"Calm down, Taehyung. I know you were worried but this isn't the way to show it," Yoongi hisses.

His voice drifts closer, a little softer, as he addresses you, "You're lucky Namjoon found you, Y/n. You're already chilled to the bone."

"Never scare me like that again, angel," Seokjin sounds wobbly as he pats over your hair, hushing the choked noise you make at the contact.

Your eyes flutter open against your will at the low, irritated snort that travels through the room.

Jimin stands with his arms crossed over his chest by the couch, scowling as the two oldest keep fretting over you. "Don't tell me you already forgot why you were so distraught in the first place, hyungs? Y/n ran away. She was just playing with us with whole time – she doesn't love us."

Seokjin's fingers still in your hair, the warm touch of his hand slowly receding as he takes a step back. He throws a hard glance over his shoulder, mouth pinched in annoyance, "Jimin, did I not tell you to shut up for the rest of the night?"

Jimin grits his teeth at Seokjin's tone, turning his head to stare blankly at the wall.

"He's right though," Hoseok says, hand brushing over Jimin's shoulder as he steps closer. "Y/n tricked us. She betrayed the trust we gave her and we can't let that slide without any consequences."

"What are you suggesting?" Namjoon leans back on his heels, fingers digging into your thigh.

"She deserves a punishment," Hoseok blankly states, eyebrows cocked as he stares you down, "Don't you agree, Y/n?"

"N-no," You weakly shake your head.

The tsk you get from Hoseok in return makes you recoil, the fear in your body so tangible you can taste it on the tip of your tongue.

"I think you're right, Hobi."

A small, betrayed gasp leaves your lips as you hear Yoongi's careful drawl. His agreement stings more than expected, somehow you had deluded yourself into thinking that Yoongi wasn't as bad as the other men in the room; that he and Jungkook actually seemed to care a little for you and not just your soulmate connection.

Jungkook still hasn't moved from where he's sat in one of the big ratty armchairs near the couches. His doe eyes are shiny with tears when you meet them across the room. Jungkook starts curling in on himself the longer you look, shame pulling at his features as he ducks his head.

"Fine," Namjoon says, "But nothing too bad."

"Of course not. I don't actually want to hurt sunshine, she just needs to learn a lesson," Hoseok scoffs.

The men around you share a look, a silent conversation passing between them. You have no idea what they're thinking but it frightens you to know that this must have been something they have already discussed, that they've already decided on a punishment should you ever disobey them.

"Who–?" Seokjin trails off, biting his lip nervously between his teeth.

"I'll do it," Taehyung sounds chastised, his voice meek as he adds, "I should do it."

He takes a seat in the middle of the couch, dragging his hands over his jeans as he gives Namjoon a nod to show that he's ready.

"W-what, no!" You uselessly tug at Namjoon's coat as he strides across the room, your frozen limbs making it impossible to fight back as you're carefully manhandled across Taehyung's lap.

Fingers wrap around your ankles, keeping your legs glued against the couch as you futilely try to push yourself up with shaking arms. Another hand is pressed against the small of your back, rendering your movement useless. No matter how much you try to squirm, you're simply too exhausted and cold to shake them off.

It takes you a second to recognize the position you're in, disgust curling in your stomach as it hits you that you're about to be spanked.

"I'm not a c-child," You bite through clattering teeth, fingernails digging into threadbare cushions.

"No? You sure act like one," Hoseok scowls. "Big girls wouldn't run off like you did."

You jerk as Taehyung's hand settles on the back of your thigh. You turn your head back to look at him as the others crowd around the couch, voice breaking as you whisper, "Please don't."

Taehyung doesn't meet your eye. His gaze is trained resolutely on his hand, his expression pinched. The corner of his mouth is downturned as he moves his hand from your thigh to your butt, his long fingers easily spanning over one cheek.

You let out a shuddering breath at the unwanted touch, pressing your forehead to the couch to hide away from the six burning pairs of eyes that surround you. Taehyung's fingers flex against the material of your trousers as he murmurs something under his breath, the feeling so weirdly intimate it makes your eyes cloud over, hot tears trailing down your temple.

"It's just ten, babe. We could do a lot worse," He comments gruffly.

There's no preamble before Taehyung raises his hand and delivers the first hit, the harsh smack echoing through the room. You bite your tongue, choking down the strangled cry that tries to rush up your throat.

You feel the imprint of his fingers burn on your cheek, the sudden pain so consuming you barely register how someone else hisses out a low curse.

It's only when Taehyung is on the third hit that you feel how he jolts as his hand makes contact; how it takes him a moment to collect himself before he delivers the next one. The fifth smack brings a weird sense of clarity to you, Yoongi's irritated cough finally making you realize that you're all feeling Taehyung's slaps. Your soulbond is connected through pain so the hurt that blooms with every hit doesn't just affect you – it has an impact on them as well.

The somber atmosphere in the room isn't just because they're disciplining you for running away; they're also punishing themselves for letting it happen.

You let out a harsh breath at the next smack. Despite the numbness in your limbs, you can feel how horrible your butt is stinging, the alternating hits doing little to lessen the pain a new one brings. It becomes harder and harder to think with each hit, your mind slowly falling apart under the excruciating combination of fear, exhaustion and pain.

The final smack seems to linger in the room and the silence that follows feels so thick you might crumble under it.

Your right-hand aches as Taehyung uses his to lightly rub over your smarting ass, his breathing shaky as he tries to soothe the bruises that are no doubt already starting to form.

"Hyung," Taehyung rasps.

The hands pressing on your back and ankles disappear in an instant. Taehyung springs away as Namjoon lifts you, moving your body into Seokjin's waiting arms. You try to blink away the tears clinging to your lashes as Seokjin leans you back against his chest, taking some of the pressure off your backside as you're maneuvered to lay on your side.

"You're absolutely freezing, angel," He tuts. He motions for Yoongi to grab him a nearby blanket, quickly tucking you in. The warmth that wraps around you is a small comfort, but it's not nearly enough to quell the shivers that are still rattling through your body.

"Let's do this quick, she needs to warm up."

You swallow thickly as Namjoon kneels by your feet, gently pulling your socks off. They're so cold you struggle to move your toes.

It's not until a rush of warm air hits your exposed skin that you realize you're hurt. Your soles are aching something fierce and you catch a glimpse of blood on the socks Namjoon throws down beside him.

"Darling," Namjoon furrows his brows as he looks at the torn skin, tongue poking into his cheek in disappointment. "Why did you do this to yourself?"

He shakes his head as if you're going to answer him. Heaving out a heavy sigh, Namjoon wordlessly accepts a small basin of warm water and a cloth from Hoseok, wetting and wringing the material out before he brings it to your feet.

You let out a wounded hiss as he makes contact, your foot involuntarily jerking away from the water that stings your open cuts. The quick movement causes you to drag your sole against the couch and it only causes you more hurt, a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

"Fuck," You whimper, body shaking against Seokjin's as Namjoon quickly reaches out to grab your foot, holding it securely over the side of the couch. You can feel Seokjin's leg twitch as the pain moves through the soulbond, the others grimacing as they feel it too.

"Angel, please be careful," Seokjin admonishes as he tucks his head over your shoulder, holding you in a tight hug as he rests his cheek against yours.

You shudder as Namjoon once again brings the cloth back to your skin, wincing as he meticulously and carefully cleans up all the dried blood and dirt clinging to your wounds. Namjoon's voice is perturbed as he moves on to your other foot, holding it with a firm grip as he says, "This is why we were holding you down during your punishment, darling, so you wouldn't hurt yourself more by moving around. We don't enjoy doing any of this."

You choose not to voice your disbelief. Judging by the sour look Jimin sports as he stares you down, you're sure it's written all over your face regardless.

Namjoon hands off the dirty water and cloth to Yoongi, switching it out with an antiseptic cream that he starts dabbing on your cuts.

Seokjin's warm breath hits the corner of your mouth as he cautiously asks, "What made you come back, Joon? You weren't supposed to return until tomorrow."

The bandage that's being wrapped around your left foot pauses, Namjoon tilting his head as he mulls over what to respond.

"I think it was that pull you've talked about before. I just suddenly felt like I had to go back to the cabin, that I was needed here," He lets out a low snort, humorless. "I guess whatever feeling it was, was correct."

"Interesting," Yoongi muses. He leans against Jungkook's chair, absentmindedly patting the youngest's hair. Jungkook leans into the comforting touch, face still marred with shame as he chances a glance over at you in Seokjin's arms.

You stare blankly down at Namjoon's hands as he finishes up one bandage and moves on to the next, his words echoing in your head. Did the soulbond somehow call him back? If it knew you were trying to put distance between yourself and your soulmates, can it work against you to keep you from separating from them?

You don't want to believe that it can affect you that much. But if it is true, does that mean your own soul is betraying you – that it'll do whatever it takes to keep you close to these monsters who don't actually care about you, as long as it'll keep the bond strong?

"It's definitely too strange to just be a coincidence," Hoseok purses his lips.

The sweater you picked out this morning suddenly feels too heavy on your shoulders. Was it just by chance that you picked out one that belongs to Namjoon, or is there something else to it? Can you even trust yourself anymore?

You barely register as Namjoon finishes wrapping up your foot, the blanket being pulled away from your body as Seokjin lets go of your waist. Your chest is tight and your vision spotty as you're handed off to Yoongi, too many awful thoughts and feelings all vying for your attention at once.

You feel yourself being carried again, the lights going from soft to bright, but it's like everything is underwater, muffled and out of reach. Yoongi's blurry face is suddenly in front of yours and it takes you once, twice, to focus on what he's saying; for the words to make any sense. "–can you do it yourself?"

Yoongi sighs as you stare blankly back at him. He brushes a finger down your trembling jaw, wincing at how cold your skin feels. "Y/n, you really need to warm up. I'm going to place a stool for you inside the shower so that you can rest and we can keep your feet outside of it and dry. I know you'd rather not have me undress you, but are you able to do that yourself?"

"Yes," You croak, disgust rippling across your body as you think of Yoongi undressing you, of any of them seeing you so vulnerable.

"Okay," Yoongi says, unconvinced. You bite your lip harshly as you're placed down on the closed toilet seat, the pressure awful on your bruised ass.

Yoongi steps over to turn the shower on for you, the old pipes rattling as water starts spewing out of them. He keeps his hand under the spray until he deems the temperature good enough. His expression is sorry yet firm as steps back, nodding to the door as he explains, "I can't leave the room but I'll keep my back turned to you the entire time. You're too weak to be left on your own right now. I won't turn around until you tell me it's okay. I promise."

"Do you want help to get over to the stool once you're undressed?" Yoongi eyes your bandaged feet, eyebrows drawn tight with worry.

"No," You whisper.

The toilet is only a few steps away from the shower but even just that feels like miles with a body so tired and battered. Still, you're willing to push yourself until you collapse if it means none of them will touch you like that.

"Just let me know if you need help, love," Yoongi sighs as he walks over to the door, facing it head-on like promised.

Getting undressed is a battle but it's one you refuse to lose. You keep your eyes locked on Yoongi's back as you pull off layer after layer, the steady steam rising in the bathroom only making your shivers worse. You refuse to strip down further than your underwear, the pieces offering you some modesty in a situation that just feels so mortifying.

You pull yourself up on your feet with a yelp, legs shaking with pain as you slowly hobble over to the shower. You're not sure how you manage to maneuver yourself down on the stool but you do, and the relief of warm water cascading down your frozen body is so great you can't hold back the sob that rips out of your throat.

Yoongi's back tenses as he hears the broken noise, his hands gripping the doorframe to keep himself in place. He never turns his head, choosing instead to rest it against the door, taking deep and measured breaths as he listens to your choked cries and whimpers.

The warmth slowly returning to your limbs is downright awful. The cold clinging to your skin refuses to bulge at first, and when it finally does slip, it feels like pins and needles being hammered into your flesh as the water rains down on you. The shivers slowly ebb away the longer you sit in the shower, your dry calves and feet prickling with the weird temperature difference.

You lose track of time as the heat gently returns to your body, face swollen and puffy as the last of your hopelessness trickles out through your eyes.

You're exhausted and everything hurts. It's like your mind and body has been fractured into a thousand pieces, all of them poking and pricking you no matter what muscle you flex or what direction your thoughts try to stray.

You just want to sleep, to forget, for a little while.

Yoongi straightens up as the water is turned off. His voice is hoarse, much like he's been crying himself when he asks, "Are you done, Y/n? Are you still cold?"

You take a deep, shaking breath, filling your lungs with as much bravery as you can muster. "'m done."

"Wrap yourself up in the towel by the shower, love. Let me know when you're covered, yeah? I'll open the door and grab the clothes Jungkook left for you."

You do as Yoongi asks, watching as he opens the door just enough to snatch the clothes waiting for him outside. He walks backward towards the shower, still somewhat respectful of your privacy as he leaves them on the toilet. "Take the time you need to get dressed. I'll wait by the door until you're ready."

Your mind is hazy and drifting as you attempt to dry yourself off, exhaustion weighing your lashes down. Slipping your wet underwear off under your towel in exchange for Jungkook's clothes isn't an easy feat, pain still flaring up your feet as you're forced to put pressure on them. Still, it's a small consolation that Yoongi doesn't attempt to help you until you raise your voice and say that you're done.

Yoongi sweeps you up into his arms before you can even blink, strong arms holding you close to his chest. He swallows hard as he glances down at you, voice unbearably soft as he says, "I really am sorry, Y/n."

He, much like Namjoon, knows he won't be getting an answer. Yoongi steps out of the bathroom with measured steps, making sure not to move you around too much. The cabin is dark and quiet as he carries you down the hallway, the others nowhere to be seen.

"It's been a long day for all of us," Yoongi mutters as if he senses your confusion.

Your fingers find Yoongi's shirt as he steps closer to your room, shock hitting you like a lightning bolt as you see the state of it. The door is broken off its hinges, halfway torn off the frame. The desk you pushed against it is flush with the wall and the rest of your room looks absolutely trashed. Furniture has been flipped over as if they were looking for you under it; your belongings scattered everywhere. The brute force they must have used to get into the room makes you realize just how badly this return, this punishment, could have gone for you.

The moment passes as Yoongi walks further down the hall, but the sick feeling in your stomach lingers.

He nudges one of the ajar doors with his foot, stepping into the room as it opens. The bedroom is bathed in soft light, the pillows on the bed fluffed and the covers already drawn aside. Yoongi carefully places you down on the mattress before he tucks you in, his expression troubled as he watches how you wince and grimace as you try to get comfortable.

"This is Seokjin hyung's room," Yoongi explains, "He'll be staying with you tonight. We ... we're going to be taking turns watching over you."

"Thank you for the introduction, Yoongi-chi," Seokjin's smile is a little strained as he enters the room, a glass of water clutched in his hand. He places it down on the table next to you, patting Yoongi's back before he takes a seat in the plush chair that faces the bed.

"You can go rest now."

"Alright," Yoongi nods. He meets your gaze for a split second, mumbling out a gentle goodnight before he turns on his heel and leaves.

Seokjin lets out a small sigh as the door clicks shut. "I should've given him a talking to for not drying your hair properly but I'm sure you're tired, angel. Damp hair must be the least of your worries right now, huh?" He shakes his head.

You pull the covers up to your chin, eyes alert despite how your lids keep attempting to fall shut every other second. There's not an ounce of trust for them in your body but it's so terribly difficult to stay awake when you want to do nothing but sleep.

"I'm sure you saw the state of your old room," Seokjin winces, "You'll be spending one night with each of us on rotation. You might not wish to have us so close all the time but you shattered the trust we had in you, Y/n."

He folds his hands in his lap with a frown, staring down at his slightly crooked fingers as he says, "You can use the bathroom alone as long as one of us is right outside of the door, but aside from that, we're going to have to watch your every step. We won't allow you to hurt yourself again. I'm sorry it had to come to this but, well, it was the best thing we could settle on."

You close your eyes to avoid the sad look Seokjin gives you, your chest constricting with fury. If they're trying to guilt trip you, it's not working. You can't believe they're trying to frame all of this as them simply looking out for you when in reality, they're robbing you of any agency you have.

As you take deep breaths to quell the anger bubbling in your stomach, you feel yourself growing heavier and heavier, your body sinking into the mattress below. You want to be angry, you want to fight, but what's the use? You won't get another chance at escaping the cabin and your own soul clings to the soulbond, refusing to let you weaken your connection to them.

You fist the sheets, sniffling as darkness begins to drag you under. If the universe wants you here, wants you to stay with them, maybe.. maybe it's time you give up and accept it.

You wake up, drowsy, to the sound of something clattering. It takes you a second to realize that it's coming from you – your teeth rattling in your mouth from the cold that has seeped into the room while you slept. Everything is dark aside from the pale moonlight shining through the window on the other side of the room, your breath fogging up the air in front of you as you breathe.

You gingerly flip over on your other side, pulling the sheets as tight to your body as they can go, but it doesn't help fend the cold off. It's no wonder this cabin is abandoned during most of the year, not if it's reliant on the fireplace in the common room to heat up the entire place.

After what feels like an eternity of shivering, you hear Seokjin's raspy voice calling out in the quiet room. "Angel? Are you cold?"

Fabric rustles as he shifts in the chair. You hold yourself as still as possible as footsteps pad across the wooden floors, Seokjin's darkened silhouette coming into view. He hesitates by the side of the bed for a second, just enough for your teeth to start clattering again before he makes up his mind and climbs in. The mattress dips as Seokjin's weight settles upon it, the man in front of you scooting down until he's facing you in the dark.

A rush of cold air hits your body as he raises the sheets to shimmy under them, an arm curling around your waist before you can even think to open your mouth. Seokjin presses himself flush against your body, mindful of your injuries as he tucks your face into his neck.

"I'm still upset with you, angel, and I know you're upset with me, but you need my body heat if you want to sleep."

Seokjin is very warm.

You inch closer without even meaning to, your sleepy brain desperate for the heat that radiates off him. Seokjin lets out a small gasp as your cold nose skims against his throat, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you close.

Sleep slowly begins to weigh down your eyelids again as you soak up Seokjin's warmth, your body relaxing so deeply it feels like your bones have been turned to mush. The last thing you remember is Seokjin nuzzling his face into your hair, lips pressing against it in a soft kiss that makes your heart flutter.

Perhaps, if you had been a little more awake, you would've realized it wasn't fear that made it skip a beat.

a/n: you can read ch 11 of lovesick early by clicking here!

it only took ten months but we're back baby!! how are we feeling about what happened in this chapter? namjoon bringing her back, the boys' reaction and her "punishment", her private moment with yoongi and seokjin ... lots of things happened so i would love to hear what you're thinking!!

see you in the next chapter and remember to wish jimin a happy b-day!! 💖

#bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #yandere seokjin #yandere taehyung #yandere namjoon #yandere kpop #bts soulmate au #bts au #yandere bts x reader

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blog-name-idk · 2 months

Text

The Plot Twist | 04

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 4: "You like Pac-man, right?"

"How dare you!"

You’ve just finished entering the final character to G0d$l@yeR_69 when you look up from the post-game leaderboard screen.

"Pardon?" you ask in confusion, slightly alarmed by the speed in which a masked man is walking towards you and the Pac-man machine. Even with the mask, the exaggerated furrow marring the man’s forehead is more than enough for you to discern that he is less than pleased. You square your shoulders, in case you need to defend the precious apparatus. Well, that and protect Lee-ssi, but mostly the Pac-man game.

"You're G0d$l@yeR_69?" the man squawks, voice irate. He gives you a once over and bristles further. You can almost imagine his fluffy hair rising like the feathers of an offended bird, and he… kind of sounds like one, too. You struggle to stifle your snicker when he gestures broadly to your grown stature, incredulous even as he finally discerns to himself, “You’re not some pint-sized punk!”

“And yet here you are, humbled all the same.” you respond haughtily, dusting off the imaginary lint off your burgundy dress. “Based on your reaction, I take it you’re ‘Jin the PacMan God’?”

You pause.

Wait.

Jin?

In fact, this offended cockatoo of a man actually looks… familiar. Broad shoulders, nice eyebrows, and –

Your blood pressure skyrockets as you realize exactly who is yelling at you. Unfortunately, your temper rises faster than your self-preservation.

"I'm sorry, BTS Jin is the same stupid kid who calls himself 'Jin the PacMan God?'" you blurt before you can stop yourself. "What self-respecting adult wastes so much time on an arcade game?"

He raises an eyebrow at you with a pointed stare, and you shrug. You don't fit into that category. You certainly don't respect yourself.

"A grown woman calls herself G0d$l@yeR_69?" Kim Seokjin jabs in return, crossing his arms, now looking more sulky than angry.

"Well, it's accurate to lore," you retort with an uncaring flip of your hair, doing your best to look bored rather than reflect the panic beginning to clog your throat. His genuinely offended gasp would have made you laugh if you weren't currently running through the possible exit routes in your head.

And then Jin says, "Well, you must be cheating!"

The egregious accusation dispels all thoughts of escape from your head. Your pride and integrity as a gamer have been insulted, and you narrow your eyes at the self-proclaimed pro-gamer before you.

You’re fully prepared to defend your honor.

It's on.

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Jimin doesn't get it.

How could he be unlucky enough to get sidelined a second time in a row? He wasn't even late this time! But because there had been more men than women (a bit heteronormative for his tastes, but that's the current state of most official speed-dating events), he and a few others had to wait aside for a rotation. And then somehow, everyone had already decided to pair up before he even got to meet anyone!

Perhaps it's karma and he's being punished for telling his Jin-hyung that he sort of kind of definitely looked like a certain pink Moluccan bird species when he was all riled up and red-eared.

With a sigh, he leaves the building, shoulders slumped. He can't quite bring himself to call Jin yet, and so he decides to walk aimlessly for a while. Perhaps some fresh air will cheer him up.

It's a bustling street, and he nervously brings his mask up higher on his face lest he be recognized. No one seems to be paying attention however, and the people going about their daily lives remind him that despite his woes, life goes on.

An arcade catches his eye, and he shrugs to himself. A few rounds of killing zombies or racing fake cars will take his mind off things. It's a school day, so it's unlikely the place will be packed.

When he walks in, he hears a familiar screech, accompanied by the sound of a boot stomping on the ground.

"Yahhh! How did you do that?! That's not fair!"

What is Jin-hyung doing here? And what is he yelling about?

Curious, he follows the voice past the shopkeeper who looks torn between concern and amusement, to where Jin is ranting at someone obscured by his frame.

A p(r)etty sigh.

"I'm sorry this is so difficult for you to get through that coconut haircut of yours, but has it occurred to you that I'm just better?"

Huh, that voice is also familiar.

"That’s just prepos–"

"...Hyung?"

The voices cease as the two arguers turn to look at Jimin, and he feels his breath catch in his throat.

You look particularly lovely today, with a form-fitting burgundy dress that shows off much more soft-looking skin than the business or lounge attire you wear on the rare occasion he actually sees you.

And his Jin-hyung, next to you, all rose-colored cockatoo.

It's more than enough to set Jimin off-balance.

"Oh! Hi, LN-ssi!" he hurriedly squeaks, cursing his voice for cracking. What are all his voice lessons even for?

At least you can't tell his palms are suddenly sweating. Your eyebrows rise and Jimin realizes you never did tell him your name, that he just saw it on your mailbox and it stuck in his brain. Oh no, do you think he's a stalker now?

"You know this phony?" Jin cries, oblivious to the internal crisis his dongsaeng is currently experiencing.

Jimin's brows crinkle. Phony?

Your head whips to his hyung at his words, your eyes narrowing.

"I believe you saw proof with your own two eyes," you say icily, though your gaze has a fire that makes Jimin gulp. "Maybe you should get them checked? Sometimes they can fail with old age."

Jin's jaw drops, and as a constipated sound of outrage leaves him, you take the opportunity to brush past and march to the exit. Jimin, still confused, steps aside automatically to let you pass and you give him a reluctant nod.

"Jimin-ssi."

As you leave, Jin turns to Jimin to demand answers, but he barely hears it over the fluttering in his tummy.

It's the first time you've ever addressed him by name.

"You like Pac-man, right?" he asks, smiling brighter than the sun.

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The twelve-year-old boy opens his hand, revealing hard candy wrapped in shiny, yellow paper.

You accept his offering, sure your own face is radiant enough to power all of Gwangju. You can't say you have strong feelings for the buttery treat, but you do for the little boy who fills your days with laughter and sweet memories. You could spend forever playing with him at the park by your houses…

Except your parents get the brilliant idea of starting their own restaurant in Seoul. You are heartbroken when the decision to move is made, but you do your best to support their dreams, even if it comes at the expense of your only friend.

Out of sentimentality and denial, you save the shiny candy wrapper, holding it when you're sad, as if it's a talisman that can ward off the lonely ache in your chest. It's hard being the new kid in a big-city school, and though you present your mother's strong facade when your new classmates tease you about your satoori, it hurts. You have to be strong.

After one particularly bad day, you decide to drop into the local arcade, because all it will take is one smile from your appa to disintegrate your cracking veneer. You're a big girl, basically an adult at a whopping eleven years old! You're not a baby anymore, you just need some extra time to set yourself right.

You weave through the attractions, passing racing games and claw machines when something catches your eye. A familiar yellow character smiles at you from a game cabinet, and for a moment you feel like he is still there with you.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You walk up to the Pac-man arcade machine with newfound resolve and a sunny smile to match.

“Sometimes I wanna drop by Gwangju,” Jung Hoseok begins, taking his seat at the dining table next to Taehyung, “But then I remember they already demolished the playplace from my childhood and think, huh, maybe not. Thing is, they sold really good tteok there.”

“Pan-fried tteok?” Taehyung leans back, remembering the taste of his own favorite rice cake flavors from Daegu. “My hometown had that, too.”

“Sometimes the cart owner-ahjussi would give us candy with our orders. I miss it a lot.”

Hobi's eyes take on a wistful look, and Taehyung pats his shoulder.

It must have been some really good candy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Honey! I'm home!" you call, setting your briefcase on the floor as your husband rushes up to you wearing a cute apron that has nothing on his sweet face and sweeter smile.

"I just finished dinner," he says, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek that makes your chest fill with the glow of a million fireflies.

"What, mudcakes again?" you ask fondly. You thread your fingers with his, uncaring of the dirt on his palms, giggling at the pout on his face.

"You said they're your favorite!" he complains petulantly, though he doesn't pull away.

"They are," you agree, squeezing his hand in yours reassuringly. You beam at him, and his cheeks turn pink. "If it's something you made, it's my favorite."

You're suddenly tugged towards him and you squeak in surprise as wiry arms crush the air out of your lungs.

It's great to be back in Gwangju, away from all the insanity happening in Seoul. You can finally relax and live life rather than constantly look over your shoulder in the fear of running into another member of BTS.

"You're my favorite," he mumbles into your hair, and it's the happiest you've felt in your entire nine years of existence.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Fuck you, fate! You're taking a break.

You knock on the old, familiar door, and it opens to reveal a kind, lightly lined face that breaks into a huge smile at the sight of you.

"Halmeoni!" you announce happily, stepping into your grandmother's arms and hugging her fiercely. She hugs you back just as hard, squeezing you with her deceptively spindly limbs as you melt into a hold that feels like childhood.

"We've been waiting!" she replies cheerfully before ushering you to the living room and calling your grandpa to come greet you. The house is the same as you remember, a comforting echo of days past.

"Oh! We ran into that boy you used to play with at the store earlier!" your grandma says just as you pick up your cup of tea. "The one you used to play house with!"

You laugh, thinking fondly of your childhood friend. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if he had been your soulmate, rather than a group of the seven biggest idols in Korea. Or perhaps not – the things that are so simple to children don't always translate to adulthood, and those memories hold an untainted innocence that you wouldn't trade for the world.

You bring the cup of homebrewed tea to your lips, only to choke at your grandmother's next words.

"I invited him over for dinner!"

You stare at the twinkle in your suddenly menacing grandmother's eyes. In just one simple sentence, she has transformed from the kindly, loving fixture of your youth to yet another cruel, scheming matchmaker. Truly your mother’s maker. Leaving Seoul might have saved you from idol-related phenomena, but clearly not from your family's attempts at grand (and great-grand) children.

Instinct drives you to your feet and you grab your purse, tripping over the rug as you rush to the door.

"I have to go," you call over your shoulder, uncaring of the baffled expression on your grandma's face.

"But you just got here?" she says in distressed confusion, and your stomach fills with guilt at the sadness in her voice. "We haven't seen you in so long, dear."

You still, hand on the doorknob and so, so close to freedom and safety. Eventually, you sigh, shoulders slumping as the resolve trickles out of your body.

"Never mind, I'm going to take my stuff upstairs," you say in resignation, grabbing the carry-on still by the door and carting it to the guest room. The wallet feels extra heavy in your purse, and when you're safely within the confines of your room you sit on the bed and pull it out.

You reach behind the ID card in the plastic slot of your wallet and feel the soft, crinkly edges of a fond childhood memory.

You like Pac-man, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Hoseok still remembers the smile on your face whenever he gave you the extra candy he would get with his tteok in the park. As well as the thinly hidden devastation on your face the last time he saw you, and you told him your family was leaving for Seoul.

Despite him being older, he had always admired your courage and tenacity, the way you would charge head-first at the things you wanted. Your unwavering support whenever he was feeling down or uncertain. During hard times as a trainee, he would sometimes picture your determined expression and feel an extra spark of energy.

He really isn't sure what to expect, or even if he's in his right mind, coming to dinner to see his long lost… friend? Play-spouse?

Would you even remember him?

The door opens, and Hoseok's heart jumps at the sight of you. The tentative smile on your face fades into an expression of utter shock, and he belatedly remembers exactly who he is.

"Wh–what the–I–" you stammer, looking just as mortified as Hoseok feels. In his ruminations of childhood, he had completely forgotten his present state of being and how it might impact new encounters. "Can I help you?"

"Y-Y/N?" he asks tentatively. To his bafflement, you flinch as if he had screamed at you.

"How do you know my name?" you ask, stepping back with your hand on the door. You look five seconds away from slamming it in his face, and despite his misgivings, Hoseok's heart sinks. For some reason this cold reception feels worse than if you were a saesang.

"I'm… I'm here for dinner?" he says tentatively, proffering the seonmul he brought. The expression on your face is so reluctant that for a moment he takes a whiff of the bag in case the pastries from the most expensive bakery in the area have somehow gone bad.

With a spark of panic, Hoseok wonders if he accidentally went to the wrong address. The house is familiar, and you look similar to the little girl he remembers, but perhaps he's just let his hopes affect his memories. Why else would you look so shaken, other than a strange man showing up out of nowhere?

"But you're… you're not–"

"Y/N, what's taking so long?"

Relief fills him momentarily as your grandmother comes behind you, though it's tempered by the way you haven't relaxed.

"But this is… this isn't…" you stammer, face pale as you look between Hoseok and your grandmother. It hits him that you probably don't remember his real name, as you had been too young to pronounce it correctly when you had first met.

"You used to call me Hoba," he says with a smile, realizing that this is why you must be so confused – you've recognized him as Jung Hoseok of BTS, and thus not your playmate from so many years ago. "It's nice to see you again."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

This cannot be happening.

Not only is the smiling boy from your fondest memories Jung Hoseok of BTS, but he just somehow had a break in his schedule the same weekend you're in Gwangju, and he ran into your grandmother at the supermarket? You left Seoul to get a break from these ridiculous situations and not to end up having dinner with one of your soulmates!

What kind of contrived, unimaginative bullshit is this?

"These are for you," Hoseok tells your grandmother with a formal bow, offering the pretty, pastel pastry box you had refused to accept earlier. She beams approvingly while you pinch yourself. Hard.

Through the pain in your arm, Jung Hoseok is still standing in your entryway, a sunny nightmare you can't wake up from. The old wrapper, once a magical talisman to ward off gloom, is lead weight in your pocket.

"Um," he begins awkwardly, looking bashful. It is not cute. He is not cute. "And this is for you."

He holds out a fuzzy yellow ball you immediately recognize, and you stare at it in shock. Your chest is doing something very funny, like tachycardic arrythmia. Yes. Hilarious.

Hoseok evidently takes your silence as disapproval, and wilts like a flower deprived of light. "Uh, sorry, you probably don't like Pacman anymore…"

"I do," you reply faintly, reaching forward to take his gift. Only to be polite. That's it. Certainly not because his dejection makes your insides roil with guilt. "Thank you."

"Of course," he replies, looking only marginally relieved by your lukewarm response. "Oh! You dropped something."

He dips low to grab something, and to your horror, your wallet is open –

"Wait, is this–"

"I JUST LIKE THE CANDY!" you blurt in a near scream, feeling your entire body light on fire. This would be humiliating in the best of situations, and Jung Hoseok discovering you kept the wrapper from an old candy he had given you, like a sentimental loser, is decidedly NOT the best of situations.

His resulting smile almost blasts you off your feet, and you wonder if overexposure to sunlight can lead to cardiac arrest.

“Y/N-ah,” Jung Hoseok says, tentatively, but with soft affection. It is more devastating than you could have ever imagined. “I missed you too. Have you been well?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #eserethriddle #reveri #fruit party 🥭🍒

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interesting-interludes · 10 months

Text

the comforts of creatures (5)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→ genre: supernatural!au, soulmate!au, hurt + comfort + recovery, angst with a happy ending, fluff, eventual smut

→ word count: 4.8k

→ summary: you learn what you are, and your reaction is far from what they expected. as they try to help you feel safe, the boys learn about your triggers, and they try their hardest to help in any way they can.

→ trigger/content warnings: PTSD (self-loathing, mistrust, flashbacks/nightmares) effects of brainwashing, lil’ bit of lore, overt and internalized racism/species-ism (?), vomiting, anxiety, mentions of starvation/food poisoning, mentions of physical abuse, dissociation, mentions of torture, aversion to touch, mc pushes jimin but he’s okay, jimin is an angel, facial/body scars, body dysmorphia/repulsion

→ a/n: thank y’all for your patience :) here’s some more hurt before the comfort lol

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 5: scars and soothers

“This is you.”

The man is pointing at a detailed image drawn in faded ink. The rest of the page is filled with scripted text and anatomical diagrams.

You can’t look at first, scared of what you’ll find.

When you finally do, you don’t know what to think. There’s the thought that he’s kidding, he’s lying. He can’t be serious.

The drawing is of a creature with tawny-feathered wings extending magnificently in the air. It has the body of a powerful big cat, muscular yet elegant. Its four legs end in sharp-taloned feet. Its neck is framed by a golden mane, looking like a big frilly collar. The mane’s trail travels down the creature’s chest and back, ending in a flowing tail. It has the face of a lion, with white whiskers and deep yellow eyes, yet the regal posture of an eagle.

A diagram off to the left shows the inside of its mouth, lined with row upon row of sharp teeth and protruding fangs.

Looking back up, you search the faces of the men around you. None of them appear to be joking.

You can’t speak.

You’re one of them, one of the creatures they all despised. The creatures that roam the wild lands for easy prey, spreading carnage wherever they go.

No wonder they hated you so much. You’re not even human.

A few silent, involuntary tears fall from your eyes, which are locked back on the page. You wipe them away hastily.

The boys don’t know how to react, all looking at each other with concern.

“What...” you squeak out, voice choked. “What is it?”

“A gryffin,” Yoongi replies. “You’re a shifter.”

Something gurgles in your stomach. You clench your teeth, nails digging deep into the meat of your thighs.

You believe him. You don’t want to, but you believe him. You’ve always felt less than human, like something wasn’t right about you. Like something was just beneath the surface, clawing its way up.

Now you know why.

Jungkook, who’s sitting closest to you, slowly, cautiously puts his hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you.

But you flinch at his touch, jerking away.

You don’t catch the look of hurt that flits across his face. He knows you can’t help it, but it still stings to think that his touch physically repels you.

“What did they tell you about atypicals?” Namjoon presses, trying to shift your attention so you won’t look so disheartened by the reality of what you are.

From the way you look at him, he knows that you’ve never heard that word before. Or at least you don’t remember it.

“Atypicals are anything that falls out of the humanic species,” he explains patiently.

Your face scrunches in confusion.

“Humanic as in human,” he elaborates.

You don’t understand why he’s talking like that. You’ve never heard these terms before. In the place you came from, the “facility,” anything that wasn’t human was an abomination, a mistake in the eyes of nature.

Simple as that.

But here, things seem to be a bit more complicated.

Nausea is starting to bubble in your gut. You breathe carefully through your nose as you consider Namjoon’s question.

“They said...” you begin hesitantly.

They’re all on the edge of their seats, desperately wondering what those bastards brainwashed you to believe about their kind, your own kind.

“They said that they were monsters.”

Another pang of hurt thrums through their hearts.

“That...that they deserved to be hunted down like dogs.”

They can hear the pain in your own voice, either from witnessing their cruel behavior, or from realizing that you’ve been the target of it this whole time.

Your stomach churns.

“They said I wasn’t even worthy to lick the ground they walked on.”

They can all hear you choking on your tears, despite your attempts to hide it.

Jimin and Jungkook feel like their chests are going to burst from holding it in, both the sorrow they feel for you and the urge to rush forward and drown you in affection.

Jin and Namjoon have storms raging inside their heads. Namjoon is calculating, trying to decode what exactly their motive was and how to use it to track down the ones in charge of it all. Jin’s mind is reeling with ways to undo the damage they’ve done, mentally and physically.

Yoongi is swimming waist-deep in despair. He can’t help but think of what’s to come. You’ll have to relearn everything. How to shift, how to fight, how to cast. That is, if you even want to.

You feel the newly strung tension in the air, looking like you just realized you said all of those things out loud.

One look around the room, and your newly found voice retreats deep into your throat.

The man called Namjoon, his eyes have darkened, jaw clenched and ticking like he’s grinding his teeth.

The one who tended to your wounds is sitting stiffly in his chair, staring ahead with a new sharpness in his face.

The small dark-haired man has his hands clenched, prominent veins crawling up his arms.

You duck your head down, body stiff with nerves.

“You have to know,” Yoongi begins, voice calm as ever despite the rage just below the surface. “That’s not how most people think. Especially not here.”

Here in the North Regions, atypicals make up the majority of the population. Law enforcement, government, and public works are largely run by them, and prejudice is rarely an issue.

But how could you know that now?

They can all see the change. It’s almost instantaneous, the way your face shifts and loses all semblance of emotion. Just like that, the mask is back up.

Then there’s something else. A slight twitch from your nose, a well-hidden shudder. They can see your throat bobbing.

For a few seconds, it looks like you’re about to say something. Your tongue is moving inside your mouth, and you’re blinking rapidly.

Namjoon is about to utter some gentle encouragement, but a jolt racks through your body, making you hunch over.

All of a sudden you’re vomiting up everything you just ate.

Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin can’t help but jump to their feet, panicked noises filling the air.

Taehyung’s eyes widen. All his limbs go rigid, paralyzing him in his seat. He feels sick himself.

Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi all look at each other.

Yoongi thrusts into action, heading to the kitchen with Jungkook in tow since he isn’t good around pungent-smelling things.

Namjoon starts giving instructions. Jimin, paper towels. Hobi, get the mop. Said men jolt into action, scrambling to do whatever they can to help.

Jin’s eyes have been fixed on you for some time now, catching your every move, including all the suppressed flinches and tremors.

He’s at your side in an instant, on his knees to try to catch your eyes. But it’s no use, you’re squeezing your eyes shut like you’re expecting to be hit.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he mutters in his gentlest voice. “It’s no big deal. No one is upset with you.”

As much as he wants to, he refrains from touching you right away.

Eyes still tightly shut, you flinch away from the sound of his voice, twitching with anxiety.

Jin can see you start to spiral, so he does the only thing he knows will work.

“Hey,” he begins, voice firmer than it was before. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap open, shining with moisture.

“That’s my girl,” Jin says before he can help it. “You’re going to calm down for me, yeah?”

Your eyes desperately search his face, looking for any sign of anger or deception. You find none, not even a hint of disgust, and your breathing starts to slow.

All that’s there is the man who tended to your wounds, watching you with those patient eyes. His handsome face is calm, attentively anticipating whatever you need right now.

Sweat gathers on your skin. That same sensation crawls up your throat, saliva pooling in your mouth.

Jin notices the signs immediately.

“Come with me,” he orders softly, putting a light hand on your back and leading you to the nearest bathroom.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

You remember vomiting a few times at the facility. Once from eating a rotten vegetable, the mold making it impossible to identify. And once when a handful of keepers had held you down, repeatedly punching you in the stomach, until you gave in and called yourself a mutt.

Both times you were severely punished for making a mess. You learned to hold it in your mouth and swallow it down after that.

Jin guides you to kneel over the toilet. He keeps talking to you, but you only process half of what he’s saying.

“Go ahead, let it out,”

You can feel it creeping up, burning and sour. But something deeper, something almost instinctual, tells you to keep it down.

“Stop holding it in, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s not good for you. It’s okay to let go.”

Before you can think to suppress it, another wave of nausea surges through your body. The crescendo of it makes you wretch, emptying the last of your stomach’s contents.

“Good, good, just get it all out,” he encourages instead of beating you until you can’t breathe.

The bile is bitter in your mouth, but not more bitter than the dread clinging to your entire being.

He’s not going to punish me, you finally realize. It’s almost an impossible thought.

For a moment, you stay hunched over, frozen. Not sure what to do next.

“Here, come wash your mouth out,” Jin says, helping you stand up on shaky legs.

The sound of running water rings in your ears. You feel the coolness against your tongue, but barely register that you’re the one cupping it to your lips. Numb. You feel like you’re controlling your body from the outside rather than the inside.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

You look up at him for the first time in a while. His face is as kind as it was before, with the same full-lipped smile and warm brown eyes.

The man starts to lead you out of the room, that same gentle hand resting on your back.

It isn’t until then that you realize you’re still in the grimy clothes they found you in. And now the entire front of your shirt is stained with even more filth.

You glance into the living room as you pass through the hallway.

The other men are diligently cleaning the area you just soiled. The small dark-haired man and the muscular man are missing, though you can hear rustling from the kitchen.

The one with the jet black hair and bright face catches your eye, flashing a reassuring smile. It makes you rip your eyes away.

Jin guides you into the living room, and everyone immediately looks your way.

Shrinking, you’re shrinking into yourself as much as your body will allow.

“Someone run a bath,” Jin announces. “I think it’s time our little guest got some sleep in clean clothes.”

The fair-haired one steps forward and exchanges a subtle look with Jin, who’s standing slightly behind you.

“Would you follow me?” the shorter man says, holding out his hand.

It’s the one with the silver-gray hair and warm eyes. You think his name is Jimin. His face is soft and friendly. It asks a silent question: will you trust me?

You don’t take his hand, but you do take a step up the stairs in the direction he’s leading you.

You don’t catch it, but Jimin and Jin exchange a heartfelt glance, nearly ecstatic at the fact that you’re beginning to trust them.

Jimin leads you up the stairs as the rest of them settle things downstairs.

When you reach the top, he guides you down a spacious hallway that’s filled with potted plants and window light.

Every single door, down to the very end of the hall, is open. Whether it’s open wide or just a crack, not one of them is closed or locked. You’re not used to it.

The man, Jimin, stops at a door halfway down the hall and looks back to check if you’re still following him.

You stop a few feet away from him, still keeping your distance, but your expression is open and neutral, waiting on his next move.

He gives you a calm smile, and continues into the room with you behind him.

This room is just as bright and inviting as the rest of the house. White walls and clean tile floors, but this time with a large porcelain tub and a sink with marble countertops.

The man turns to look at you with a question in his eyes.

“Shower or bath?” he asks.

It’s a harmless question, a considerate question. But your mind is yanked back to that place.

Shower. A torrent of fire raining down on you, vision blinded by steam. It comes from every angle, unrelenting no matter how much you scream.

They would strip you down and lock you in a metal stall the size of a coffin. Then the dotted ceiling would unleash a downpour of near-boiling water.

You would bang on the walls, but the water made the metal surface just as hot, the floor burning the bottom of your feet. Minutes or hours they kept you in there, not letting you out until your body was covered in burn marks.

Bath. The most intense cold you’ve ever felt. It’s everywhere, submerging you up to the neck, seeping down to your very bones.

They would chain you down in a tub full of ice, nothing but your head poking out of the frigid water. The cold chains cut into your skin the more you struggled. Your lungs would heave from the shock of it, your whole body shivering violently.

Then they would hold your head underwater until you were bucking like a stuck pig. This went on until you were utterly exhausted, falling limp against the freezing porcelain with nothing but the tight chains holding you up.

You’re snapped back to reality when the man takes a step closer. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your face.

Finally remembering that he asked you a question, you shrug your shoulders and shake your head.

You don’t want either. You don’t want to be anywhere near that tub. You want him to leave you alone.

Jimin guesses that the gesture means you don’t care which one. He figures you’re most likely still weak from malnourishment, and he doesn’t want you fainting and hitting your head.

So he opts for a bath, turning on the faucet. He sits on the edge of the tub, hand under the spout to monitor the temperature.

The sound of running water makes every muscle in your body tense up. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt. The fire, the ice, it’s going to burn and sting and cut into your flesh. You won’t be able to escape it.

Jimin doesn’t notice it at first, too focused on adjusting the knobs to get the water not too hot and not too cold, but your breathing has picked up again.

You can already feel it filling your ears, your mouth, rushing down your throat as your head is held down. Your skin prickles from the heat, it quivers from the cold.

The water in the tub continues to rise, and you can’t move. Your body is frozen, feet rooted to the floor as the sound of sloshing roars louder and louder in your ears.

Halfway full, now. It’s coming any second. He’s going to turn on you, throw you down and hold you under.

Burning, freezing. It’ll hurt and hurt and hurt.

Jimin turns his head, and his stomach drops.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pursed like you’re trying to bite back a scream. Fists clenched at your sides, shoulders trembling, as your chest heaves up and down.

Immediately, he jumps to his feet and rushes over to you.

“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?”

Then he makes a big mistake. He puts his hands on you.

His touch is gentle, nonthreatening, nothing but two hands on your shoulders. But you don’t want it, you’re repulsed by it. Because touch always comes before the pain.

On instinct, your body jerks away, arms moving to push the unwelcome touch away, just get it away. Your hands collide against something, hard.

When you open your eyes, the man is on the floor. Sprawled on his back, looking up at you with wide, slightly watery eyes.

There’s shock plastered on both of your faces.

Jimin’s soft heart hurts a little, he can’t help it. In all the years he’s known you, loved you, you’ve never ever been repelled by him. But that hurt is soon drowned by guilt.

He scared you, he made you feel unsafe. You felt the need to protect yourself and it’s his fault.

You’re staring at your hands in horror, completely floored by what you’ve done. You’re in for it now. He tried to help you and you hurt him. Now they’re going to hurt you even more.

Several sets of pounding footsteps draw near. The others must have heard the thud from downstairs and rushed up to see what was wrong.

What they don’t expect to find is Jimin crumpled on the floor and you standing over him in a braced position, but that’s exactly what they see when they peer through the doorway.

They’re all a little astonished, Jin and Namjoon are thinking deeply, and something in Taehyung’s eyes shifts.

He isn’t proud of it, but a surge of protectiveness washes over him, for his Jimin. He knows it’s unreasonable, unfair even. But it’s still there. And he can’t snuff it out.

A new fear consumes you. You were insubordinate, you resisted. You know what comes next.

A sob gets trapped in your throat as you sink down to the floor, burying your head in-between your knees and using your arms to shield yourself.

Immediately, the same way Jimin did, they all rush forward to comfort you.

“No!” Jimin blurts out, making you flinch and shake violently. “Don’t touch, give her some space.”

They all obey, keeping their distance with concern flooding their features.

Jimin shifts onto his knees, scooting a little closer but still keeping enough away.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispers, like he’s talking to a wild, cornered animal. “It was my fault entirely. I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m truly sorry.”

Jimin’s voice has always been soothing, even in the darkest times, and your breathing slows a little.

Jimin realizes that the faucet is still running, and he reaches over to switch it off. Then it comes to him.

He turns back to your trembling form, still waiting for the pain to come.

“You’re scared of the water, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

He doesn’t expect you to reply, he just wants to let you know that he’s trying to understand you, to help you.

You nod slightly.

It shocks them all again. You’re becoming more responsive.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Jimin says with all the sincerity he can muster. “It’s not your fault. I promise I won’t do that again.”

Your shoulders gradually stop trembling, breath coming evenly now.

Jimin looks at his mates and gestures for them to give you some more space so you can calm down.

They all do as he says, except Tae. He lingers in the doorway, his piercing eyes flickering between you and Jimin, thinking.

The two men exchange a meaningful glance. Jimin gives him a reassuring smile and nods his head as if to say “There’s nothing to worry about. I got this.”

Tae gives a slight nod back and turns to leave, throwing one last look at you.

Jimin sees the hint of distrust hidden in that look. He files it away for later.

Turning his attention back to you, Jimin looks at the tub and thinks of a solution.

“You don’t have to get in the tub, okay? We can just...” Jimin opens the cupboard under the sink and takes out a handful of washcloths.

“Like this, see?” He dips one of the cloths in the water, using it to wipe down his face.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You scan his face. Those big brown eyes are full to the brim with kindness, as if you didn’t just hurt him moments ago.

You nod.

Jimin smiles so big it almost hurts his cheeks, heart swelling as you hesitantly hold your hand open. He puts another cloth in your waiting palm.

“Okay, here’s the soap, shampoo, conditioner. You can wash your face with this. Use whatever you want, okay?”

You look at him, trying to convey with your eyes what your mouth can’t say. He stays there for a moment, sitting with you on the tile, answering your every question with just his expression.

It’s okay. You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you. You can trust me. I understand you.

Breaking from his reverie, Jimin gets up and moves to leave.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says, swinging the door closed.

You shoot forward and grab the knob just before it shuts.

Jimin jumps a little, whipping back around. There’s confusion on his face, then understanding.

“Okay, we’ll leave it open just like this. I’ll be just outside if you need anything, okay?”

You feel the tension release from your chest, and nod back.

Another warm smile, and then he disappears into the next room.

He’s not going to lock you in. Another impossible realization.

Turning around, you stare at the full tub. Your heartbeat skitters a little, but you take a step towards it anyways.

When you dip your fingertips in the clear water, you expect it to be scalding, or cold enough to numb, but it’s neither. The water is warm and calm, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t sting.

Another breath releases from your lungs.

You use the cloth and soap to wipe down your whole body, shedding your dirty clothes and tossing them aside. Soon the tub is cloudy from the dirt on the washcloth. You even dip your hair into the water and use a little shampoo to get some of the grime out.

You sit there and wash yourself until the water turns cold. Using the counter to steady yourself, you slowly come to a stand, even though your legs are aching.

The sight in front of you is enough to shock you into silence again.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection. You wish you weren’t seeing it now.

The person in the mirror is ugly and pathetic. Her short hair is a mangled mess. Haphazardly cut with a pair of dull scissors, it sticks out in all different angles. Her eyes are blank and lifeless, red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles. There’s a large, hideous scar across her left cheek, deep and forked like a flash of lightning.

Her body is weak and repulsive. Slouching forward, she’s barely able to hold herself up. She’s covered in scars and marks, all over her legs, her arms, her torso.

You know there are worse scars behind you.

Horrifically entranced, you slowly reach up to touch the scar across her face, your face. Your fingertips meet the textured tissue, and then there’s the pain.

It’s not a physical pain, it doesn’t originate from the scar itself. It’s a pain deep in your chest, spreading and infecting the rest of your body. It maims you, twists your insides, disfigures your soul.

You muffle the silent scream with a hand over your mouth. Knees buckling, you barely have any strength left to keep yourself upright.

You’re barely you. You don’t remember who you were before, but you know it wasn’t this.

A gentle knock on the door.

You immediately stifle any signs of discomfort, snapping the mask back on with frightening accuracy.

Jimin’s arms poke through the gap in the door. He sets a bundle of clothes on the counter.

“Here you go," his pleasant voice says. “Please let me know if they’re comfortable enough.”

You wait a good twenty seconds before you reach for them. A warm green sweater and soft cotton pants.

You hurriedly slip them on to hide your disgusting body.

Leaning closer to the door, you try to hear beyond the wood. Hushed voices, muted footsteps.

“Ready, love?” a smooth voice sounds from just behind the door.

You flinch away, trying your best to make your hair look less unkempt.

It’s Jin who cautiously swings the door open, greeting you with an affectionate smile.

“Much better, hmm?” he says.

You manage a curt nod, following him with your head down to another room.

It’s the room from earlier, the one with the massive bed. The rest of them are here waiting, muttering quiet words until you arrive. Then they go silent and set their eyes on you, asking a question you can’t understand.

Why are they all looking at you? You don’t like it, not at all. People who look like them shouldn’t look at someone like you. You’re wrong, inside and out.

They all notice the change. Now your eyes are trained on the ground, head bent and shoulders folding in on yourself like you wish you would disappear.

Jin ushers you towards the humongous bed, encouraging you to settle in under the covers. He tucks the comforter around your body, fluffing the pillows behind your head.

“There, nice and cozy,” he says, sounding satisfied for the time being. “Rest up, okay love? You’ve been through a lot.”

Why are they talking to you like that? You’re disgusting. They should be throwing you out on the streets to fend for yourself like a common rat.

The small dark-haired man kneels down next to you. He hands you a mug of steaming amber liquid, using the bed sheets to shield your hands from the hot surface.

“This should settle your stomach,” he says.

While Jimin was getting you cleaned up, Yoongi and Jungkook were hard at work cooking up a tincture for your nausea. Essence of lavender to help you sleep, peppermint to refresh your throat, a little ginger to ease your stomach, and some of Yoongi’s highest-quality potions to replenish your nutrients. And, of course, Jin stirred in a copious amount of honey to sweeten it up.

You hold the cup in your hands like it’s a ticking time bomb.

Yoongi looks at his mates in confusion and concern, not sure what to do. Jimin catches his gaze, and gestures wildly with his hands. He exaggeratedly mimics holding the cup and taking a sip, and then Yoongi understands.

He gently takes the mug from your hands and holds it up to his nose.

“Let me check if it’s too hot for you,” he says, blowing off some of the steam and taking a long sip. He makes sure to swallow with audible emphasis.

“Okay, it should be good,” he says, handing it back to you.

This time you hold it close to your chest like it’s a precious gem, slowly sipping away at the frothy liquid.

They all look at each other with a relieved, triumphant expression.

Namjoon steps forward and leans down to level his face with yours.

“There’s water for you over there,” he gestures to a table in the corner, complete with a pitcher and cup. “And the bathroom is the next door over.”

You nod to show your appreciation, still avoiding eye contact.

Jin enters your field of vision again.

“Do you think you can hold down some meds?” he asks. It’s sincere, no seeming deception behind it.

But you still shake your head vehemently. You don’t want anymore pills. In fact, you don’t want to see another pill ever in your life.

“Okay, love,” he says, smiling again. “Just rest up for me. For us.”

You have no idea what he means by that, but you sink into the pillows anyway.

One by one they filter out of the room, casting a last look at you before they leave.

You wish they wouldn’t. Their eyes seem to leave even more marks on your skin.

The door starts to swing shut. Then someone mutters something, and it stops just before it closes completely.

Footsteps recede, silence settles upon the room.

You manage a few more sips from the steaming mug, eventually setting it aside. The bed is soft and comfortable, but you can’t bring yourself to lie down.

You sit there, watching shadows dart across the wall, for hours.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed it please leave a comment on what you thought of the story/any questions it would mean the world to me!! and if you’re feeling extra generous, please reblog with tags it helps to spread the story around, thank you!! 💖

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bangtangalicious · 3 months

Text

placebo (m) | pjm (3)

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. jungkook & namjoon)

premise: you're assigned a soulmate backed by the science of compatibility that hopes to promote healthier, long-lasting, loving relationships. you find yours: park jimin is the exact opposite of you. a member of a notorious resistance gang, he doesn't believe in science, love, or the state.

summary: you find out that jimin isn't your true soulmate. he was a placebo - a series of control trials to see if simply thinking someone is your soulmate would be enough to make you fall in love. the issue is, you did. you did fall in love. hard.

genre: 18+ romance, smut, angst, soulmate!au, dystopian, love triangle, romeo-juliet, opposites attract, hurt-comfort

characters: student!reader, vigilante!jimin, student!jungkook, scientist!namjoon

warnings: 18+, contains smut, angsty smut, rough penetrative sex, creampie, cock warming, breast play, a lot of kissing. like a lot. emotional sex, oral sex (m), fingering, praise kink, jimin is a pro at snapping that bra off, a lot of stimulation, a lot of foreplay, aftercare, they're in love okay it's cheesy, feelings of fear, hurt, government conspiracy, medical procedure, memory loss, cursing

taglist: @tornparts @loona15 @effielumiere @agustdream8 @jnghs @dragons-flare @xiusmarshmallow @ratherbefangirling @infires-imagines @aretha170 @dvalitaes @kookiejeonie @ddaeng-angmoh @idk123906 @cuteipat @uarmyhore @natalie-rdr @yawnkive @sukunabitch @withluvjm @thesmeraldogirl @theceraunophilegirl

Jimin—

“We’re not actually soulmates.”

Disappointment couldn’t even begin to explain what Jimin was feeling as he saw your eyes shatter in front of him. His heart was already beating wildly with a sense of pounding worry—all from your tears. He wasn’t the kind of guy who expressed himself. He was a pawn. A soldier, of sorts. He took action.

Right now, he was paralyzed. Every drop of blood drained from him in one rush of cold. He was left with nothing. Not even your touch held enough comfort to warm the life back into him. His breath even, mocking him with a charade of calmness.

You continued to explain. He heard you—he swore he did, but everything seemed to numb him from comprehending.

“It was a placebo, where the chip signals but we aren’t actually compatible. So the basis for everything we felt—or everything we think we feel, was a lie. Jungkook found out and,”

Jimin blinked. Looking at you. You were still there. You were still real. Your eyes swollen with tears. Hearing your words hurt, but seeing you like this hurt even more. He needed to be strong for you—you were falling apart in front of him, and he was too stubborn to let you.

He wasn’t going to let you go.

Because he didn’t care. He didn’t care—in fact, a rush seemed to pulse into him, beckoning him onwards—the fact that you might have been some government-implanted craving he had was the only reason he was trying to stay away from you initially. You fought for him. And fuck, he loved you. It was too soon to say it. Hell—probably too soon to feel it but he didn’t have a doubt in his mind.

Last night, as he fell asleep in your arms, all he could wish for was to have that every day for the rest of his life. He had never felt so strongly bound to another person. Never felt so seen, so cherished.

This wasn’t about some microchip in your necks. To him, it never had been. You cared for him when he was hurt. You were a fucking nerd, obsessed with your geeky job in a way that enamored him. You worked so hard, were so fiercely determined and dedicated to your cause. You were messy, clumsy, a stickler for rules where Jimin liked to bend them, break them, or ignore them altogether.

He loved the person you were, unfiltered—he loved the person you wanted to become, and most of all he loved the way you loved him. Your heart on your sleeve. Calling out his bullshit. And always being exactly what he needed even if he didn’t know it himself.

And he knew all of this. So why did he feel so fucking terrified?

Jimin swallowed deeply. His hand leaving your face as you searched him for a reaction through glassy eyes.

“Tell me what this means to you, doctor” His words were hushed. His fingers gliding over your wrists before circling them into his hold. His lips hovered over yours, foreheads resting against one another.

Jimin wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what it meant to you. But he needed to hear you say it. He knew how hard you had fought for him. He had tried so hard to push you away, but you persisted because you believed in the Soulmate Initiative so strongly. That had been the catalyst. For you—it had been the condition of your love.

“Jimin” You exhaled. The regret in your voice carved into his heart.

“You know that never mattered to me” His grip on your wrists tightened, as if his touch would make you understand. It was all he could do to not scream—not begin to pathetically beg you not to care. Not to change anything—not to leave him.

He could see you scrambling for words. “There’s still a chance—” You attempted to reason. Because that’s who you were. Hard facts and logic. Your voice choked—Jimin couldn’t look at you a second longer. It was too fucking painful. Too painful to sit there and watch as you gave up on him.

He needed to leave. Get far away from you and think. Because right now he felt so helpless, so powerless—he didn’t trust himself not to say something he’d ultimately regret.

His eyes were red, wet with anger. A façade to cover the shattering in his chest.

“I have to get to class, doctor” His voice was serene. His gaze, tumultuous.

“Jimin please,” You tried to pull him back as he stood up. He yanked his hand away from you, rougher than he meant to, but enough for you to get the hint. “I’m so sorry”

He took a few steps towards the door. Turning back, he looked at you one last time. Your tear-stained cheeks. Your quivering lips.

“I’m not sorry” He swallowed thickly. Pulling on his leather jacket and grabbing his helmet, he tucked in under his arm. “I will never be sorry for falling for you, doctor”

“There might—” Jimin held up his palm.

“I’ll come back” His eyes softened as if to ease your anxiety, “We can talk about this later”

He was out of the door in seconds, unable to look you in the eye again. The fresh, cold air hit him like salvation from the tension. He gasped, breathing the sharp air in as his tears unleashed.

Sinking to the floor, he buried his head between his knees. His fingers gripping his hair in frustration as he sobbed quietly. He jerked his head back, hitting the door as he punched the ground next to him. Cursing loudly as he crumbled.

You—

Jimin would be back any second. You’d never felt quite so nervous. So anxious—not even when you opened your decision letter for your PhD program—not ever. He’d be back. Be home. And you two would have to face the impending doom you’d introduced to him.

More than anything, you felt guilty. Guilty that you were responsible for what he was going through right now. After trying so hard to convince him that he even deserved love, let alone from you—to gain his trust and then put him into this grey space of uncertainty. It wasn’t lost on you how unfair it was.

The mere thought of living your life like you had before Jimin—was pointless. He had awoken something within you. As frustrating as he was, as much of a tease and a flirt—he made every day feel like an adventure. He brought you to life in a way nothing else quite did.

But if your real soulmate was out there, you couldn’t help but wonder. Was it all fake attraction? Was what you could find with someone you were truly compatible with even better than this? More magical? More right?

You had to know.

And you knew Jimin wouldn’t see it that way. But even if you chose to ignore it—to let it go, it would drive a wedge between the two of you inevitably. Jimin’s flaws seemed to glare at you in a way that they hadn’t before. Everything impossible about your relationship seemed to weigh on you because you didn’t have the blind faith in the system anymore. You didn’t have the promise that this is how it was supposed to be.

The ring of your doorbell sent your heart into somersaults. You buzzed him, nervously tugging at your sleeves. You wanted to look pretty for him—unsure if that was cruel of you, but you couldn’t help but think that these were a collection of your final moments together.

He walked inside. Tired eyes, raven hair wispy from the wind. The cold tinting his cheek and nose. His black motorcycle jacket hugged his figure. The familiar scent of cigarettes and gasoline which you had come to associate with comfort. A scent that once made you nauseous.

Slugging his backpack off, he set it aside. Neatly, he unlaced his boots before stepping inside. He regarded you with a soft smile. His deep brown eyes were simultaneously relieved and broken.

“Hey you”

You approached him slowly, immediately wrapping your arms around his torso. You inhaled him. His unadulterated bliss. He was cold, but so warm. And when his arms wrapped around you, cradling your head to the crook of his neck, leaning into you—you wanted to simply melt.

You looked up. His pretty eyes—the way he looked at you—God. His touch flushed you over with heat as his palm reached your cheek, thumb caressing over your jaw, teasing your bottom lip.

You didn’t know what to say to him. It seemed, you didn’t need to say anything. Jimin sighed into you, his lips relaxing against yours. So soft. So tender. Incredibly sweet.

And you wouldn’t stop him. Maybe it was avoidance. The impending melancholy of the night you were about to have. The inevitable heartache. You deepened the kiss, pulling Jimin closer to you desperately.

He grinned against your lips as you did. Hands falling to your hips before cupping the backs of your thighs. He lifted you up, still kissing you with the same delicateness. Taking you to the couch where he sat you both down.

Falling to his back, you crawled on top of him. Lips not parting. Breaths getting heavier.

Because when you kissed, nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed. There was only him. Him and the storm of pleasure brewing in your chest. The heat coursing through your veins. The dizziness spinning in your head.

His fingers curled over your hip as he flipped you down. Hovering over you now, he admired you. Eyes memorizing your every crevice. His chain fell from his neck, the cool metal making you shiver as it glided across your hot skin.

He peeled off his jacket, leaving only his tight white t-shirt, before returning to you. Body caging yours in. Forearms resting on either side of your face as his fingers traced your cheeks.

“I don’t tell you enough” He murmured. You raised your eyebrows, curious. “You’re so fucking beautiful, doctor. So pretty,” His eyes were half-lidded, kissing you chastely, “Sexy..gorgeous..mine” He smacked against your lips between each word—sending a rush of praise to your head.

And you loved it. You loved his words like they were feathers tickling against you. His voice was silk and you wanted to dance in it for eternity.

The pressure of his body felt incredible against yours, his heat like a blanket. You’d never felt so safe—so cherished in his hold.

“Where the hell did you even come from, doctor?” He hummed playfully against your lips, “How the hell find me? You’re a fever. You’re my disease and my cure”

You tugged at his chain, urging him to kiss you harder. To glue his lips to yours.

He groaned, hips rolling flush against yours as his mouth worked you into serenity. You could feel how badly he needed you, but he was taking his time. On the other hand, you were frantic. Your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. Tugging it up his torso as he chuckled. You could feel his scalding skin on your fingertips. Exploring the expanse of him. The contours of his body, the soft skin.

His teeth tugged at your lip, nipping at you playfully as you scratched your nails against his chest. He finally allowed you to pull this shirt over his head, giving you a moment to admire him, chain contrasting against his golden skin before you tugged off your own top.

You were left in sheer light green bra. Delicate. Something you had bought as a joke a long time ago, wondering if it would actually make you feel more confident. Jimin’s pupils darkened.

“Let me” He exhaled shakily. You turned over, on your knees as Jimin held you up—one hand on your neck pulling you back to him. His fingers gripped your jaw as he kissed your cheek, smirking against you as his other hand expertly snapped your bra off. So fast that it sent shivers down your spine. He replaced where the latch once was pressing into your back with his own lips, kissing up your spine until melting at your nape.

You arched your back as the bra slid down your arms, onto the floor. Jimin’s coarse fingers immediately covering your breasts. Pinching your nipple between his fingers sensually. Trailing butterfly kisses up your neck. You twitched under his touch. Small, needy gasps leaving your parted lips.

He hummed with pleasure, tasting you across your jaw, chest pressed against your back.

“So good to me,” He kissed your cheek. The blisters on his fingers against the soft skin of your breasts making his touch so incredibly erotic, it had you weeping in your core. His touches so subtle, and yet you were reacting to him so desperately. Craving him, overwhelmed by how fucking good it felt when he touched you.

“Please” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for. He chuckled softly, teeth grazing against your ear. “Jimin p-please”

“I love that. I love it when you ask me so nicely like that” He pushed you down on all fours. You let out a surprised gasp at his sudden roughness, but your cunt tightened. He pulled off your jeans, and then his own. Leaving your panties on he grabbed a handful of your ass and squeezed it.

“So fucking perfect,” His large hands moved all over the flesh of your thighs. He let two fingers tease along your damp slit. “What’s this huh? Wet for me already baby?”

His fingers pushed the cloth aside, finding your tender clit. You bit back a moan as he began to trace small, slow circles. He leaned down on you, the feeling of skin on skin riling you up even further. His lips caressed the back of your shoulders with hums of approval as his fingers continued to coax you. His other hand holding your hip steady. Pinching your ass tenderly.

“Jimin” You gasped breathlessly, fingers gripping the couch tight. His fingers continued to push you further and further towards nirvana. He pulled you up suddenly, fingers still on your clit—but he needed to see you. Needed to look into your eyes as you came. Hand wrapped around your neck, enough to feel his control but not enough to choke you.

“You gonna cum for me doctor?” Jimin teased, forcing your jaw towards him. A grin on his lips mirrored the mischievous glint in his eyes. You nodded pathetically.

“Yeah?” His tone raised, taunting you further as he smashed his lips back on yours. Tongue pushing through your lips as his fingers circled your clit faster. Your moans were swallowed by him—body going limp as waves of pleasure crashed down on you. Your body bucking forward, taking Jimin down with you. Twitching all over as your cunt leaked onto his hand. His rough, desperate kisses muffling your screams.

“That’s it baby, so good for me” His fingers led you through the aftershocks before dipping into your sensitive cunt. “So good and wet all for me, right?”

He pulled himself off of you, and you turned, on your knees—reaching for his cock.

“I want to suck your cock”

Jimin blinked at you incredulously.

But you were determined. You began to stroke him gently. He hissed, reaching behind you to steady himself against the back of the couch.

“You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you baby?” He leaned down to kiss you cheek. You looked up at him, eyes earnest—because you wanted him to feel so good.

You wanted to make up for all the pain you knew you were about to cause him. He deserved everything—heaven and the stars and everything beyond, you wanted him to have it all. For now, you let your lips kiss the flushed tip of his cock.

“F-fuck,” He reached for your chin, stroking your jaw tenderly. “You’re so good to me baby fuck”

“I,” You diverted your eyes with shame as heat crawled over your cheeks. “Tell me what to do”

Jimin gulped, eyes shifting as he understood your words.

“Open wide” He pushed two fingers against your lips until your mouth opened enough for him to slide them inside. “No teeth okay baby—and then just take it in as far—” He pushed his fingers down your throat. You tried your best not to gag, until finally you couldn’t help it. He pulled his fingers out, a string of saliva following. “As you can”

His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it playfully as he cooed at you. It was the eagerness in your eyes. The fierce determination he knew you were feeling to please him.

“You’re so” He chuckled softly, “God I—” He choked on his words.

Now was hardly the time.

You beamed at him, taking his cock into your mouth little by little. His head tilted back as he cursed to himself.

You loved seeing him like this—amazed that you could make him feel like this. Motivated by his response, you began to slowly bob your head. He exhaled verbally, letting out a loud groan.

“Just like that baby, fuck—good girl” His voice was pained as if he was losing his resolve and it only fueled you to move faster. He tugged your hair, giving you a warning stare. “If you do that I’m gonna cum baby. Slow down”

You gave him a mischievous look, deciding to disobey.

“Y/n” His voice was low, demanding. He recognized you were teasing him, and as much as he wanted to fuck you—he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. His thumb swiped at the drool from the edge of your lips. A shock rippled through his body as he reached for your shoulder to keep him steady.

“Fuck. Fuck. Baby I’m—” His hips bucked, cock twitching inside your mouth as you felt his warm cum on your tongue. You let him go, swallowing his cum—and before you could even process it, he lifted you up, forcing your legs around his waist and carried you to your bedroom.

He laid you down on the covers gently, kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up your stomach, where he showed you a little extra love, up to your breasts—he nibbled on them playfully, loving the way you’d twitch for him. His eyes stayed glued to yours. Dark and needy.

“I’m gonna need a little bit” Jimin confessed after deciding your breasts had been abused enough by his mouth. For now. He let his fingers continue to toy with them as he hovered over you. “But we should talk, hm?”

You inhaled sharply.

“Y-yeah we should”

Jimin grinned, taking a peak back into his mouth, this time letting his tongue run rampant on the plushness.

“Jimin” You hissed, grabbing his hair.

“You taste so good baby, I can’t help it” He kept on kissing your chest. Rolling onto his side, he pulled you into his embrace. Your naked bodies intertwined as his hands roamed all over you. You cradled his head against you, fingers running through his silky black hair.

You whimpered, hopelessly aroused by his actions. Your pussy pulsing, wishing so badly to be stuffed.

“I need you” You nudged him. “I need you so bad”

Jimin grinned, pulling away from you. He kissed you softly.

Then his eyes grew serious.

“Y/n” His tone had changed. He wasn’t teasing anymore. “If I asked you to just let it go,”

“You know I can’t” You responded. Jimin looked away. His fingers still tracing your sides.

“Yeah” He said after some time, kissing your cheek, “I know”

You gulped, cupping his face in your hands. “Can I just say that, right now, in this moment, based on every experience I’ve had in my life up to this point—I love you?”

Jimin scoffed, but he couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes.

“I just need to know”

“If there’s someone else, you mean.” Jimin gave you a pointed look. “What happens then, doctor?”

“If someone else is my soulmate, that also means someone else is yours. I can’t keep you from that”

“I know I don’t want that” Jimin gripped your hips possessively, pulling you impossibly closer. “I don’t care. I love you”

A tear rolled down your cheek. The hurt that you so blissfully ignored moments before, returning.

“I’ll meet Dr. Kim Namjoon at the conference in a few days. He can check for us, and then”

“You already know though, don’t you?” Jimin challenged. “You think we aren’t compatible”

You paused. “Well I—”

“Go ahead, doctor” Jimin smiled, a hint of despair in his gaze, “Go meet your soulmate. No one in this universe will love you the way I do, I am sure of it. So sure that I’ll take the chance of losing you forever if it means you’ll believe me one day”

He began to get emotional. You ached for him. Ached for the pain he felt in his chest. The pain you didn’t want him to feel.

Your hand rested on his chest. Feeling the beat of his heart against the tense silence.

He kissed you again. Desperately. His fingers tugging your panties aside as his now hard cock slid against your folds.

You kissed him back—even more desperately. Savoring whatever you had left with him. Losing yourself in him as though time were running out. Spreading your thighs to grant him entrance, he fucked into effortlessly. Filling you up until you felt so right—so whole. He stilled, nose tracing yours as he gazed into your eyes.

Tears threatened the edges of his pretty brown eyes.

“I don’t trust them Y/n” He whispered, the tear unleashing, “What if they brainwash you—what if seeing your soulmate resets your brain chip and—” He gasped, lip trembling.

“I won’t forget you, Jimin” You assured him with a comforting hand stroking his back.

“You don’t know that” Jimin gulped.

The true fear in his eyes hit you like a reality check. Reminding you that this man had no trust in the system, and you were asking him to take a gamble on it.

“Maybe you’re not supposed to know about the Placebo. Maybe they’ll do something to you, and me—and you’ll be in danger and I won’t know”

You kissed him sweetly. “Baby” You mumbled, knowing you’d never called him that— “Don’t think like that”

“I mean the fact that we fell in love, without the compatibility assessment, means the whole system is bullshit—doesn’t it? They could pick any two people and condition them to love one another with the chip. That’s not something they’d be okay with people knowing”

“N-not necessarily” You sighed. “Baby—move” You urged him, as if he forgot his cock was nestled deep inside of you. He hadn’t.

He gave you a tight thrust. Your lips parted, and he did it again, watching your expression intently. He held you close—you held him close. He buried his face into your neck, pushing you onto your back so he could fuck you deeper. His hips slammed against yours, deep, quick thrusts that you could feel throughout every inch of your body.

“You’re heaven” Jimin gasped, kissing your cheek again, “I don’t think you fucking understand what I feel for you, doctor—I swear I”

“I do, Jimin” You assured him, “I feel it” He began fucking you faster. “And I love you”

He stilled so he could kiss you again. “Say it again” He begged, “Please. Say it, mean it, please”

“I love you” You stared into his starry eyes. His fingers intertwined with yours, pushing your arms above your head as he resumed his ruthless pace. His lips pasting against yours in between your confession, “I love you Jimin—I do—So much”

He burst inside you, but he couldn’t stop. The moment was too charged, too emotionally ripe. He kept himself sheathed inside of you, cum stuffed deep. Hugging you close, he kissed you—a man addicted, and you were his vice.

You fell asleep, at some point.

You heard him whisper against your eyelids—I won’t give up, at some point.

You woke up, at some point.

He was gone.

You—

You arrived at the conference. You hadn’t heard from Jimin since that night—but preparation kept you distracted. This was a huge moment for your career—and you’d worked too hard to fall short now.

Jungkook was by your side, dressed in a light grey suit—the conference badge contrasting the plain white button-down shirt that gripped his chiseled chest. Around you were folks of similar adornment—chatting with their colleagues, setting up posters and grabbing coffee.

“Good—you made it” Your boss, Jung Hoseok, who you loathed approached the both of you. “Is everything set up for my talk later?”

You exchanged an irritated look with Jungkook, who bit back a smile. “Yes, sir”

Dr. Jung hummed, pleased with your response. “Very well. Go network. This conference has the best of the best. Y/n, I know you were interested in meeting Dr. Kim, would you like me to make an introduction?”

You stiffened. Dr. Kim Namjoon. He was the most brilliant biochemist of your time. He single-handedly piloted the Soulmate initiative with the help of his neuro-engineering team. He developed the compatibility algorithm that you spent your whole life studying. Appreciating.

He was infamous. And it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous too—you had all of his books, memoirs, magazine articles. It was safe to say you knew quite a bit about the man. And soon he’d be right in front of you. In the flesh.

“If you don’t mind” You held back your excitement, but your hand trembled, gripping onto the pamphlet that a volunteer had forced into your hold earlier. Dr. Jung nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

“I’ll come too, if that’s okay” Jungkook quipped. You made a face, but knew you had no right to take this opportunity from him either, as much as you preferred to meet him alone to discuss your dilemma.

Up the elevator, Dr. Jung led the both of you to the top floor of the hotel in which the conference was taking place. From the clear glass, you could see the city sprawled out—serene, snow beginning to melt off of the ground. More folks were out and about. Children playing in the now cleared-up parks. Spring was coming, soon.

You stepped out of the elevator, and were met with a series of guards lining the hallway. It made sense; you mused. Kim Namjoon was a high-ranked State scientist. Which meant he was a prime target for a Resistance kidnapping or attack.

Your lips wavered. A part of you was disappointed at the lack of hope you had that you’d find out you and Jimin were compatible. Your gut knew you weren’t. But you loved him, so it could be. It could be him, right?

Why did you love him, if you weren’t compatible? It was so easy to think of all the reasons—so simple in your mind, but hard to find the words. You trusted him with your life. He was attractive, kind, in a bad situation but had big dreams. Dreams to make change, and you admired that.

As you walked past the guards, Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours. You looked his way and he winked at you excitedly. “You ready?”

He whispered against your neck. Too close—maybe it hadn’t been before, but now it felt too close. Nevertheless, you smiled back at him and nodded.

It occurred to you that Jungkook might be your real soulmate.

“Namjoon!” Dr. Jung opened the double doors to the suite. You took the room in. Hardly a room—there was a whole lab set up in there. Humming with the soft whirr of state-of-the-art machinery, bright white lights everywhere. Translucent monitors display complex molecular structures and neural pathways. Simulations.

The middle of the room had a holographic interface projected a three-dimensional model of a chip. The chip. Tiny filaments extended from the chip, resembling delicate neurons connecting to an unseen network.

Your heart skipped a beat. This was paradise.

There was not a drop of chemicals in this lab. Everything was tech-based, simulation and modeling predicting chemical interactions, hormonal regulation, neural response and bodily action.

“Hey Hobi” You heard a low, smooth voice. Your clenched your fingers into your palm. Taking a deep breath, you turned the corner where Dr. Kim was sitting.

God.

He sat casually on a stool set up by a plain workstation. He was dressed in a black turtleneck, black trousers—his black hair gelled up. You’d neve seen him without a white-coat on, as that’s how he tended to appear in media pictures. Here, in front of you now, he was relaxed. He was just a person. He was a man.

His dimpled smile made your throat tighten. A smile that reached his eyes with such a genuine glimmer. He greeted Dr. Jung with a suave fistbump, exchanging some words with him before chuckling lightly, patting him on the back and swiveling his chair towards you and Jungkook.

His smile widened.

“Hey there” He nodded his head politely. Both you and Jungkook bowed slightly. “So you’re the poor kids who got looped into helping this motherfucker” Your eyes widened at his comment, but Dr. Jung simply rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll see you downstairs. Drinks tonight? The usual?” Dr. Jung pointed at him for confirmation as he reached the door. Namjoon nodded.

“Of course Hobi, I’ll see you later” He redirected his full attention to the both of you, shutting the computer in front of him. “Please, take a seat” He motioned behind him and a small robot pushed two stools over to where you were standing.

“I’m Y/n L/n” You extended your hand to him.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard about you. You study my work, huh?” He winked, making your face rush with heat. His eyes passed over to Jungkook. “And you?”

“Jeon Jungkook, honored to be here, sir”

“Good. Good, so tell me about yourselves”

“Actually” You exhaled. “Dr. Kim, if you don’t mind—there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you”

He raised his eyebrows. Folding his arms over his strong chest in a way that made you aware that this man worked out, he leaned back. “Oh, sure. Let’s hear it then”

You were about to speak when Jungkook interrupted.

“Y/n’s soulmate was a placebo. We’d like to run the compatibility test to find out who her real soulmate is”

Your mouth felt dry. Namjoon’s eyes flashed with interest, gaze remaining steady on you.

“How’d you figure it out?”

You looked at Jungkook.

“I uh, hacked some data” Jungkook confessed, shyly.

Namjoon let out a soft laugh.

“Well alright. As you know, any scientific RCT trial needs a control group. We use these placebos to understand the actual effect of the Soulmate algorithm’s deployment on the outcomes of interest. Procreation, individual health and wellness, etc.”

He was speaking to you. Directly to you, even though Jungkook was right by your side.

“The way the chip works is that you see someone who surpasses your compatibility threshold. There isn’t one soulmate. I suppose there could be, but we have to factor in proximity and chance for encounter. That’s why the microchip will only give the Soulmate signal once you meet someone who has also passed the cognitive-sexual threshold who surpasses your compatibility level. Another threshold, unique to each person and defined by many metrics”

It was nothing you didn’t know. Jungkook on the other hand, was fascinated.

“Wait so, both and Y/n and I were past out cognitive-sexual threshold and we saw each other all the time before she met…her placebo. I didn’t meet her compatibility threshold?”

Namjoon seemed to bit back a giggle. “Well, Jungkook? Is it? Right, it goes both ways. She didn’t meet yours either” His eyes flashed at you. You couldn’t help but notice that they were honey-brown, almost gleaming gold in the light.

Jungkook seemed to recede into himself.

“Is there a way I can check my compatibility with my placebo soulmate?” You asked, tugging at your sleeves.

“Well, I suppose” Namjoon took a second to think, “If you know where they are right now, and get to them without looking too many people in the eye” He chuckled.

Right, you mused.

“Because if you reset my chip, and I see someone else, it’ll register they’re my soulmate before I can even look Jimin in the eye” You mumbled.

“Exactly. We can do that, if you’d like. But no law says you must be romantically involved with your soulmate. Either way, your choice is still your own”

You gulped. You just had to know.

“Please, if it’s alright, can you reset my chip?” The words felt like acid leaving your mouth. Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly.

“Sure thing. Jungkook—this is a medical procedure, technically. We will need some privacy”

“Oh, right” Jungkook scrambled to his feet, rushing out the door rather quickly. Namjoon reached for a tablet set near the window and tapped a few buttons. Some robots arrived, removing the table and stools and setting up a medical bed in it’s place.

“Do you not like your placebo soulmate?” Namjoon asked, while the robots were at work.

“Actually I like him a lot.” You confessed. “But I believe so strongly in the benefits of your algorithm. So I just need to know for sure”

Namjoon squinted at you, but nodded.

“Do most placebos work out?” You blurted, covering your stomach with your crossed arms. “Is there a statistically significant difference between outcomes with truly compatible soulmates and placebo ones?”

A grin tugged at Namjoon’s lips. The robots finished setting up the medical equipment and he motioned for you to lie down.

“What do you think, Y/n?” Namjoon mused as he connected a few wires to the back of your neck. “Do you think placebos would work out the same way? Is believing someone is your true love enough to make you love them?”

You gulped. His fingers brushed against your nape as he plugged in your chip.

Until it hit you.

“It doesn’t matter” The thoughts came to you as the words left your mouth, “It isn’t even about love. Compatibility. Or health.” Your eyes quivered as you noticed Namjoon’s grin widening.

“I-It’s about your faith in the State” You drawled, “If you believe in the State—in the Soulmate Initiative, then it’ll work. And if you don’t—”

You sat upright suddenly, feeling uneasy. Jimin’s fears echoing in the back of your mind.

“Don’t worry—you did fall in love. You clearly believe, so you have nothing to worry about.” Namjoon admired you for a moment. “You’re very smart, Miss. Y/n. It’s a shame it took us until now to meet”

Namjoon proceeded to tap a few more things on his tablet.

“Now before we do this, you should know. There is a small chance the reset will cause both you and your placebo soulmate to forget that you’ve seen each other. Not to worry, though, I can make sure that you head his way after the procedure to see if you two are compatible”

You gripped the edges of the seat with your trembling fingers.

“But don’t worry, you’ll be unharmed”

Forgetting Jimin—that’s harm. That’s fucking harm. Your mind was screaming warning.

“Wait actually I don’t—”

“Relax,” Namjoon placed a hand gently on your shoulder, pushing you back to your chair. “I’m here. I’ll tell you to go find this fella and look him straight in the eye before anyone else. You can trust me”

Strangely enough, you believed him.

“Okay”

“What’s his name?”

You hesitated. Drawing attention to Jimin’s citizen file wasn’t a smart idea given what you knew about him.

“P-park Jimin”

“Good. Now close your eyes. This might give you a brief migraine”

Jimin—

It had been pathetic. Jimin showed up at the steps of Jin’s home—the home he shared with a few other members of the resistance. It was late—he could hear the debauchery happening inside loud and clear. The familiar stench of tobacco and liquor radiated from the dim light behind the shuttered windows.

He inhaled sharply. He spent the whole day wandering. Trying to drown himself in schoolwork until even that seemed pointless. He needed a distraction. Something to ease the pain. Until he figured out how the hell he would get you back. He needed anything.

He sat down on the splintered porch steps, ignoring the fleet of giggles from what he assumed were sex workers. Staring at his palms, he recalled the sensation of your touch. His fingers curled into his palm, wishing your hand was there but instead grasping at the crisp late winter air.

“Well look here,” Jin’s familiar voice boomed from the entryway. Jimin looked back to see him, a flimsy tank top under his leather jacket which was being pulled off by a beautiful, voluptuous woman. “Ay, fuck off whore—that’s my little brother and oh,” Jin pouted, shoving the woman off of him, “He looks so sad” Jin leaned down to tug Jimin’s cheeks in a way he always used to do when Jimin was younger.

“Why you sad baby boy?” The woman cooed, “If you’d like, I can make it all better”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “No, thank you.” Redirecting his attention to Jin who slid down to sit by his side, a bottle of beer in his hand— “God, doesn’t it ever get a bit old hyung?”

Jin scoffed, “I’ve had about enough of you sitting on your high horse and judging us, Jimin. You are one of us. We’re at war. Well—” He took a sip, “We will be, soon enough, and we need you. Your brother was—”

Jimin hissed. Jin took the hint, luckily.

“Look,” His tone grew serious, “We had one of our mole’s hack into the microchip database. We were right. The kind of data they collect and the way they use it to strategically puppet aspects of our society—it’s robbing free will. Altering memories. Manipulating thought through exposure and environment. And because there’s not specific legislature that oppresses people, they play it off as the way the world works. No. They built these structures, Jimin-ah. We have proof.”

Jimin gazed up at the obscured night sky. Clouds veiled any semblance of starlight, mirroring the shadow over his thoughts.

“She isn’t even really my soulmate” Jimin chuckled bitterly. “It was a fucking placebo”

Jin stared at him for a moment, before his eyes softened with pity. “Fuck Jimin,” He handed him the bottle. Jimin took it, sipping the sour & bitter liquid. “You really like the bitch, huh?”

“Hyung” Jimin snapped. Jin simply chuckled.

“My bad, my bad. The scientist. Whatever the fuck her name is. Listen. If you want to know if your feelings are genuine or not, you need to take out your microchip. It’s the only way you’d know for sure. The fact that there is a placebo cohort for something like this is kinda fucked up. Whatever happened to ethics?” Jin scoffed. Jimin took another swig of the beer.

Should he? Should he take it out? The microchip was the physical embodiment of the state's reach into his very soul.

Jin could sense that Jimin was considering his idea.

“Honestly, it’s about damn time you did Jimin. Things are getting serious around here. We’re going to start taking real action, advocating for our cause. We want you in—we’ve always known you’re a smart kid. Good with words and all that. Hell, you’re not meant for the battlefield Jimin. You’re meant for a throne”

Jimin set the bottle down, again looking up to the skies. “I don’t want a throne. I just want to not be a fucking puppet anymore. For them, or for you guys”

“Then take what’s yours. This is what your brother wanted, Jimin. Be more involved. Take charge. Your girl didn’t give up on you—the state fucking manipulated her to give up on you. They took everything from you—it’s damn time you see that. It’s damn time you fight for what you deserve”

Fight. He was going to fight for you. He had promised you that. Promised himself that.

He reached for the back of his neck.

“Fuck the State” He mumbled, “I want this out. Let’s go”

Jin grinned ear to ear, “Fuck yeah!” He patted Jimin on the ack excitedly. “We’ve got a bot that can do it in the back, come on”

You—

“Y/n?” The soft call echoed in the sterile room. Your eyes, weighed down by the fog of unconsciousness, fluttered open. The harsh fluorescent lights above you forced a squint. A lingering scent of antiseptic filled the air, accompanied by the gentle hum of machines.

Behind you, a subtle tug and disconnect confirmed the unplugging of your chip from the machine. The cool room air kissed your skin, sending a shiver of unease through you.

“Good, your vitals are all normal. You’re doing great,” Namjoon's voice reassured. Turning, you saw his back as he typed notes on his laptop.

It came back to you: where you were. Who you were. Everything seemed to click. Your heart seemed to hurt. You couldn’t understand why.

“Do you remember Park Jimin?” Namjoon asked. You blinked in his direction.

“Who?” Your response was automatic, a clouded memory of someone fading into obscurity. The emptiness inside of you seemed to pulse.

Namjoon continued typing, his focus on the screen. “There’s a man,” he hummed, “I need you to go directly to him and look him in the eye to see if he is your soulmate or not. His file suggests he may be at the University Law Library. Try to minimize eye contact with strangers as you head there.” Namjoon turned back around.

You looked at him.

In those honey eyes. Those sweet, smiling, kind eyes.

A sharp pain in your neck burned.

They say you’ll just know.

come scream in my asks! thanks for reading you hotties~ lmk what you think <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

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daichiduskdrop · 9 months

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

CHAPTER 00 - PROLOGUE

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers, (might do smut in the future)

Warnings: loneliness, anxiety, indicated sa (hardly mentioned at all)

AN.: Hello everyone! This is pretty much my first time writing a FF, and English isn't my first language, so please be patient with me :)

If you enjoy this story, please let me know and I'll continue it. Don't hesitate if you have anything to say, I'm always looking for good advice. Please take care of yourself :))

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˚ · .*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was a bitterly cold and snowy day. The frigid temperatures had been persistent for days, and there was no sign of relief in sight. December had just begun, but it already felt like an endless winter. While the snowflakes were beautiful as they fell to the ground, they brought a feeling of sadness and loneliness.

You loved the hot chocolates you would make for yourself in the small kitchen, you loved bundling up in a soft blanket on the sofa and watching anothe movie. You loved the seasonal Christmas themed ads that were blaring at this time of the year from every corner.

Yes, you loved Christmas, you stopped to remind yourself. Of course you did. Yet still, there was this deep nagging. A feeling of desire, that carried sadness.

'It's snowing like the world is about to end' you thought as you looked from the window that tightly sealed. There wasn't much to look at, even thought the afternoon was only just ending, through the strong snowstorm there was hardly anything visible.

You didn't watch the final race of the snowflakes for much longer. Standing up from your wooden floor you made your way to your apartment door - or more so tried to. Your pillows, blankets, old books and canvases were scattered all around so it proved to be bit of a challenge.

Your room was a mess, it has been like that for far too long. Old newspaper cutouts glued on the walls, posters, painting without frames hung up or just pushed in the corner of the room, where shadows hid them well. There wasn't enough space for them all. Books stacked up in tall chimneys, your phone somewhere burried in-between. You didn't bother to look for it too much.

Lacing up your boots, you took a last look in the mirror. As an omega it was always expected of you to look proper and taken cared of, even if it wasn't always the case. Your heavy jacket felt too heavy on your shoulders, but you knew that you would quite literally freeze to death otherwise. A white woolen scarf was tied around your neck, covering your face up to your nose. It felt comfortable against your cheeks and the scent was also pleasant, so even as it grew older, you still kept it and worn it every winter.

You grabbed your wallet, and pocketed your keys. The small bunny keychain dangled with the movement. It used to be white with few brown spots, but that wore of with the time too. Still, even if most of the colour was missing, you liked it.

With the lock clicking behind you, you started walking down the open hallway to the apartment building entrance. The rooms were only on one side, so it didn't take much time until the cold air swept you from the right. The layer of snow on the wooden railing has grown to over 10 centimetres, and that was only from this day, since it got swept pretty much every morning. The landlord was quite sweet, as allowing an omega a home when they were alone with no alpha or beta in sight wasn't too usual.

Hiding more into your jacket you quickened your pace, and after getting down the steps, you started the walk towards the pharmacy.

Snowflakes fell into your hair, as you made your way down the few streets and roads. Luckily, not many people were outside and so your smell wasn't noticed. It really wasn't too typical to see omegas walking on their own, basically anywhere. The society had strict standards that were followed since,- well, forever.

While some protested, it was just always for the better, anyone to see an omega that's completely alone, unmarked or at least scented was basically free to do anything they wished to.

It made you tremble just the slightest bit thinking about it, but you blamed it on the cold that surrounded you and shook it off. While you were on the outskirts of Seoul, it wasn't like you were constantly alone.

Yes, you reminded yourself once more. There were people around, like that nice looking lady down the street holding a hand of a little girl. She jumped and squeeled in the heavy snow, only to get lightly scolded by the beta for almost slipping in the forming ice. Pups were always the biggest priority, at least in every good pack.

As you walked further and further from your home, more stores appeared, lighting up the streets just enough for you to be more comfortable. The neon sings of restaurants, grocery shops, clothing boutiques and more were bright for your eyes, colourful and soon you started hearing bit more noise too. There were more cars passing by, people smoking cigarettes outside on the streets chatting together.

With the snow crunching underneath your feet you made your way to the mall closest to your apartment. You dusted of as much of the snow from yourself as possible, and walked inside. It felt a lot warmer immediately, but you didn't unzip your jacket too much. You knew your scent would carry too much and people would eventually notice, so you just continued on your way down the escalator, keeping to yourself with the crowd of people going downstairs with you.

Infront of you was another grocery store, that got you thinking about buying some food. The snowstorms often lasted a few days, and you doubted that it would be pleasant to walk here again tomorrow. You didn't have a lot home right now, as you avoided going until it was impossible. Plus the store here was a lot cheaper than the small shops closer to your apartment, that made a big profit from all the-

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud sniffing behind you, something just lightly touching the back of your neck. Startled, you quickly turned, and nearly jumped from your skin. The man must have been in his forties, his eyes closed for a tiny second, before they opened and focused on your face. You averted your gaze, not wanting to seem like you wanted to start anything.

„What are you doing here alone like this?” his tone sounded concerned, but carried a weird undertone, that unsettled you even more. You felt chills run down your spine. You opened your mouth to answer, but your eyes could only widen more, as the last step lowered and you arrived at the floor. Stumbling, you regained your balance and nearly ran off in the way of the pharmacy.

Opening the door, a light bell sound chimed throughout the store, making few of the people in the queue turn to check the newcomer. Looking at your shoes, you shuffled to stand behind the last girl, her natural smell covered in a strong but very sweet perfume scent blockers. Growing up, in high schools, those were always popular for beta or even alphas to wear, to make themselves appear more approachable if their scent wasn't intriguing enough for their liking.

Such perfumes didn't work on omega scents, those were always naturally alluring and hard to cover. Scent blockers were then often used, but since you didn't go out a lot back in highschool, you hardly ever had to use them. You would, now being in college you were constantly around unknown people, so it would come with a nice benefit - sometimes all of the attention that came with being an omega wasn't nice at all. But those were expensive, and the even cheapest ones were bit too pricey for you. Plus the ones you ever tried always made you uncomfortable, and unsettled with how chemically they smelled.

The wet shoeprints with slight mud covered the tiled floors, as you patiently waited for your turn to receive your prescription. And so as the girl before you took the small bottle of medicine, thanked and made her way out again, you took the small paper from your wallet.

„Hi, what can I do for you?” asked the older man behind the counter. His hair was gray and his eyes seemed tired. With the winter season, there must be many people coming with bad colds.

„Hello,” you mumbled looking behind him at the shelves filled with medicaments, „I have a prescription of a medication from my doctor;” he leaned in closer to hear you better. Your voice was naturally just a bit too quiet. Placing the paper onto the sleek counter, you looked away as he nodded and opened it. Taking just a few seconds to read over its contents he bristled to the shelves, pulling out a brown bottle with a white cap.

„...Right here miss. I will just need you to sign a document, that states that your pack alpha is aware of this and agreed to your doctor decision.” smiling, his cheeks lifted as he took a paper from underneath the desk.

You blinked in a surprise, and felt your fingers start to slightly tremble. 'Since when was this a thing? You got your medicine just fine month or two ago, what --?'

„My pack alpha- I-”

He looked back at me after retrieving a pen with calm eyes.

„Yes miss, here... You just fill in your pack alpha's name, and your pack serial number, or if you can't remember the whole thing, you can just write your pack alpha's phone number, we can get in touch later and I will complete the form process with them. You don't have to worry about it at all.” Once again, the worker smiled brightly, seemingly trying to calm you down.

„I know the number is hard to remember, my daughters always forget it too.” lightly chuckling, you could smell just the lightest hint of calming pheromones in the air. Scrunching up the nose at the smell, your anxiety only risen.

If you won't get the medicine you will get in a lot of trouble, and miss even more college lessons, no, you can't miss anymore, and-

„umm- can.. can I just call them first? I'm not so sure-” your voice trembled just the slightest bit as you squeezed your fingers around the prescription. The man once again laughed and nodded his head.

„Of course you can! It's no issue. Just come back again with the prescription and we can go over this again miss.” Nodding slightly, stunned still, just turned on your heel and walked off, the ground slippery with the melted snow, making you almost slip a few times. You eyes clouded with tears and you sniffled loudly as you opened the pharmacy door. Defeated, you clutched your other hand in a tight grip, unsettled and confused. You could bet that your anxious scent was wafting off all over the place.

Your vision blurry, you started heading back towards the escalators, walking next to a shoe boutique and a barber shop, you reminded yourself of the way outside. Your plans were definitely different from this, and getting lost in a mall was also not included on the list so you tried your best way to walk where you remembered the right side entrance to be. With most of the people left by now, the 21nth hour was quickly approaching, and a many of trail scents left behind confused you even more.

More tears sprung up to your eyes, and your vision got even blurrier. Not having any scents to stick to, as the ones that were around when you walked to the pharmacy were exchanged for different ones, you were left in a sensory overload, not even noticing when a man bristly walked towards you.

„Hey.., hey, what's going on? What's wrong?” He bended to your eye level so you stood face to face. A white facemask was covering his face, so only his eye peeked through under his dark, long hair. A plain black newsboy cap matched with the long, thick coat that went bellow his bended knees. You looked away, just when your overwhelmed nose smelled that he was an alpha. A mixture of rain and a hint of levander that seemed to become more prominent every passing second. He was trying to calm you with his scent.

A small whimper broke out from your throat unwillingly. Your brain was just taking in bit too much for you to be able to process everything. Your scarf dampen with more tears falling onto it. The man hand quickly held your right arm, his other hand prying your fingers open, so you couldn't clutch your hands and accidently scratched yourself. He cooed at you and rubbed your arm while still holding your hand, squeezing just the smallest bit.

„...Hm? What is it?”

Looking up, you accidentally made eye contact, only to get yourself more stressed out. You were always taught to beware of any unknown people, especially alphas, and making an eye contact could be interpreted as a 'sure, let's get it on'.

His concerned eyes shocked you enough to stay like that for a bit longer. They were a lot cat like, and his eyebrows were furrowed, but not in a threatening way, no, it was worry.

„I was- was at the phar-macy..” you mumbled only to sob loudly, and your shoulders to start to shake. You looked at his facemask, trying to focus anywhere but at the alpha's eyes. Noticing you doing so, in a quick motion he pulled the mask bellow his chin, only to reveal a soft looking nose and full lips, left open just the slightest bit in focus.

His tongue darted out to lick them fastly, and he shuffled a bit closer, so the levander scent was even more prominent. „At the pharmacy? Did someone tell you something bad there? Do you not have enough money for your medicine?” His voice felt calming, but held a feeling of urgency in it. He stood back up, only to look behind you towards the store you came from just about two minutes ago.

„N-No.. that's not - it... My prescrb- prescrt-” stumbling over the word you whined softly, angry with yourself. This was really not what you needed to happen right now.

„Prescription kitty. What's with it? Had it already expired?” once again he lowered himself back down, but didn't let go of your hand and arm even once. Softly rubbing his thumb over your hand, he once again cooed at you.

„Need pack al-pha...” you cried out softly and looked at the floors. Frowning even deeper, he let go of your arm and pulled out his phone from his pocket. His other hand just pulled you a little closer, so his scent was even clearer.

The man fumbled with it for a few seconds, pressed it to his ear and waited, as the faint sound of ringing could be heard. A soft beep sound and another strangers voice went through, not loud enough for you to decipher.

„hey, where are you?”

„No, listen, I need you to come to the lowest floor, um- there is a,” whipping his head around he looked at the stores around us, „hairdresser shop here and uhh.. a pharmacy too, look just can you hurry please?”

„Ill tell you here, it's an omega .... Jimin-ah are you a fucking idiot?! Who said anything about heat? Aish..! Just hurry up, could you?”

For a second his scent got covered with a burning grass, a smell of agitation. Just as quickly as it came it was gone thought. Pocketing his phone once again, he looked back at you.

„My packmate is going to come here in a bit okay?” his voice once again soft.

„P-Packmate?” your eyes blew wide, only for more tears to come. What did that mean? Was they about to do something? Your worried thoughts circled your mind.

„Yea, but don't worry, okay? He's very-”

„Yah, hyung, what is it? What's going on?” you heard another man, only to be hit with another alpha scent, reminding you of soft vanilla blooms. „Gosh her scent is sweet..” he said lowly, so you hardly understood what he was saying. Looking up, you were met with eyes of another man. This time, circled rimmed glasses and a black face mask pretty much covered his whole face, only a small bit of his black hair peeking through underneath his dark grey beanie. A long, dark green trenchcoat with a crossbody purse like bag adored his body, making his shoulders stand out.

„I don't know...”

„Whats your name 'mega?” the newcomer asked, bending slightly to match your height too.

„..Y/N” you said as you looked away again. All of the scents were confusing you, and you shuffled at your feet. You could sense your flight or fight instincts start to come in, with how long you have been unsettled.

„..okay. Okay.” he sighed out. „My name is Yoongi, and that's Jimin. Kitty, where is your pack? Why are you here alone like this?”

You took a longer pause, too overwhelmed to answer quickly. It must have been bit too long for them thought.

„Hyung-”

„I don't ha-ve a p-pack..” sniffling, you avoided their gaze, hiding more into the scarf.

„..Well shit.” Jimin muttered, exchanging anxious looks with Yoongi.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˚ · .*ੈ✩‧₊˚

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts a/b/o #bts omegaverse #bts imagine #bts yoongi #bts jimin #hybrid bts #bts imagines #bts army #fanfic #strangers to lovers #a/b/o #omegaverse #bts smut #kpop smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts soulmate au

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7ndipity · 3 months

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Soulmate AU Scenarios

Jin x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: only partially edited, not proofread

A/N: These have been sitting in my drafts for soo long, I don’t even remember when I wrote them tbh, but I figured since I didn’t have anything else ready for today, I’d share these with the class!

(Note, these are part of my Non-Linear series, which means they’re unfinished and ask motivated, see m.list for details)

Masterlist Non-Linear m.list

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

J: (Feeling a shock when you touch your SM)

Jin braced himself as he wove through the crowded streets, trying to avoid bumping into anyone as the static air began to make his hair bristle.

Everywhere he went, tiny zaps of electricity would hit him, sometimes from just the slightest of touches. It was like wearing a wool sweater all the time, and it made him tense and anxious every time he left the house.

He had gone to multiple doctors and specialists to try and figure out what was going on, but all they could ever come up with was he was just hypersensitive to his type of soulmark, feeling things too intensely.

He had hoped that they would be able to help him find some sort of treatment or solution to his problem, but all they had basically told him was to try wearing extra layers to lessen the sensation and to just ignore it as best he could.

He made his way slowly down the crowded sidewalk, trying to avoid getting too close to anyone, but it was almost impossible to avoid bumping into a few people. By the time he made it to crosswalk, he could hardly stand the static buzz around him anymore, more than ready to just go home

Suddenly, he heard a small curse as someone behind him stumbled, falling against him.

“Yi-aish!” Lightning shot up his arm, sending him flying back in shock and pain. Heart pounding from the sudden jolt of electricity, he looked up to see you sitting on the ground, gripping your shoulder in pain from the shock.

Realization hit him as he stared down at you, his fingers still tingling from the intensity of the shock.

“A-are you okay?” He asked, hesitating for a moment before offering you his hand.

Glancing between it and his face, you cautiously accepted it, your expression mirroring his curiosity and concern.

This time, when your palms touch, neither of you felt a painful jolt, but rather a soothing warmth that spread up your arm, like sunlight in your veins.

He smiled shyly at you. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Jungkook:(sharing a very specific mark with your SM, SM’s tattoos/scars appear on your skin)

For the nth time today, you tugged down the sleeve of your sweater to cover your right hand, hiding the writing and designs that decorated your skin.

Having the same tattoos and scars as your soulmate would be enough to make anyone feel a bit self conscious at times on its own, no matter how beautiful you might think they are, but when your soulmate was someone famous, having such a visible marker of who you were bound to made you a target for all kinds of attention, some of which could even be potentially dangerous.

So many people tried to copy tattoos, trying to pass themselves off as the real deal, the only way to know for sure was to get some kind of test to know if it was regular ink or a ‘soul mark’ as they were sometimes called.

When the marks first started showing up, you were in complete denial, but the collection of designs had quickly grown beyond the point of denying, so you had switched to ignoring/hiding them. Lots of people chose to ignore their marks and make their own lives, and you knew enough about your soulmate to know there wasn’t a real possibility to be together.

Until your manager came by to tell you that you would be giving a tour of the venue/museum/historical site/smth where you worked to some very important visitors.

When you walked out and saw him standing there, it was like the world stopped. Everything seemed to slow for a fraction of a second, your breath hanging in the air as your eyes met.

But then, painfully, the world kept going. Everyone kept talking, your manager introduced you to everyone and left you to show him and his members around.

Pushing your initial shock aside, you focused on leading them around on the tour, answering any questions they had and chatting easily. You actually found yourself having a really nice time with them, almost forgetting your earlier nerves, until you noticed Jungkook's eyes on you, or more specifically, your hand.

As you had been pointing out something, he caught sight of the dark patterning over your knuckles, just barely peeking out of your oversized sleeves.

You tried to tuck your hand out of sight, but he was too quick, stepping forward and catching your arm, tugging your sleeve up to reveal the numerous, interweaving tattoos that covered your skin.

You locked your eyes on the floor, afraid of what he would say.

“Finally.” He breathed, making you look up in surprise.

He smiled down at you in disbelief. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn

#seokjin scenarios #seokjin fluff #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin soulmate au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook soulmate au #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts soulmate au #7ndipity

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whalyrae · 4 months

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DANCE WITH ME - CHAPTER 6

“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

Summary : All your life, you thought you were a beta, a simple and boring beta. Until everything change. But now that you've presented yourself as an omega, how will you manage to live and hide it from your six friends and best friend, all alphas and all in the same pack? (a/n : I'm a shit for summary I'm so sorry-)

Genre : soulmate au (of course I'm a bitch for this), omegaverse, bangtan alphas au!, omega reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 3k

Warnings : the usual one I guess, like smut, angst, fluff (yeah its a warning for some people ) mention of depression, abusive parents (physically and morally), violence and blood, PTSD, scars, self harm,…

Tag list : @ghostlyworld @kawaiikpoplover268 @scuzmunkie @iamkookiesforyou @00ihatesnaku @stellauniverse @akemiixx01 @aceofcards05 @strxwbloody @seoul9711 @amara-mars @alex-walker-86 @yoongicatcat @xicanacorpse

A/N : Remember me ? Ah, I'm so soooo sorry for the wait, really. I'll not vent again, I already did it last weeks. I'm sorry about the quality of the chapter too… it's not really corrected, there are probably lots of spelling, conjugation, syntax mistakes… I think I've lost the little writing talent I had, really, it's so frustrating :') With this writer block it hasn't really helped either… I can't put the ideas I have in my head into words, and it's getting on my nerves too much…!! Hope you'll like it though even a little, I'll do my best for the next one ! ♥ Thank you so much for all the love and attention you give to this story, you can't imagine how much it means for me !! ♥

Also I made a playlist for the story ! If you have any songs who made you think about the story, you can share it to me and I'll add it on the playlist !

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad | Spotify playlist

Chapter 5 // Chapter 7

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The room was silent after Jungkook's explanation. He and Yoongi had not waited to go to the oldest of the two's apartments where their partners were. Fortunately, since it was so late in the day, they were all there, and reunited in the same place.

Jungkook shared what he heard during your conversation with Wooyoung and Yeosang. When you said you were an omega.

Jimin was the first to react. Of course, he did.

“I can’t believe it…!” he exclaimed after a few seconds, “She’s my best friend… we’ve known each other since high school! If she were an omega, she would've told me! She can't have lied to me…”

Sitting between Hoseok and Taehyung, he brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs with a pout. He accepted Hoseok's embrace, who placed a kiss on his head.

The other boys stayed silent. Some of them were quite surprised to learn this, but Namjoon, Yoongi and Taehyung weren't so surprised to hear it, something inside them knew it, they just couldn't explain it.

"But that'd explain a lot..." Jimin added with a sigh, " she's quite... different recently..."

He obviously noticed the change in your behavior towards him recently. You were more distant and less tactile, and you tended to isolate yourself more in your room, whereas before, you spent all your free time with them, in one of their apartments.

At first, he thought that the classes and the dancing were exhausting you physically and mentally, like him. And knowing you, you tended to isolate yourself when you weren't feeling well. But it had never lasted as long as it did. He would never have thought that the reason behind it was... that you were an omega.

"We've all noticed it, I think," Jin replied, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful.

"But if she really is an omega," continued Jungkook, "why did she hide it from us? Would she be... afraid of us or something?"

The younger’s question left the room in silence. Everyone had heard about your misadventures with alphas, the behavior of your parents, and your brothers and sisters who were themselves alphas. And even though Jimin had always been the exception to the rule in your life, and now the other boys, you still had a certain reserve towards alphas. And that was as a beta. So, if you were an omega...

“It's not as if it matters anyway,” Namjoon affirmed, “whether she's a beta, an omega, or even an alpha, she's with us, she's part of the pack. But it's true that I'm wondering why she's hiding it from us.”

"Everyone has their wounds, scars, we all do, and we know that our little Y/N has some deep ones that haven't fully healed yet..." Hoseok spoke in a soft, understanding voice, stroking Jimin's hair in a protective, reassuring way.

"It takes time to gain someone's trust, even more so when someone has suffered mistreatment, abandonment, or physical and psychological violence." added Namjoon, crossing his arms.

Namjoon was right, and everyone agreed with him. For them, naturally, it didn't matter whether you were an alpha, a beta, or an omega. You were who you were, whatever your nature.

Everyone also knew what you'd been through with your parents, how they treated you, how they had treated you in the past.

None of them had ever said or done anything inappropriate to you, as they would to any of them.

This was the first time in your life since Jimin that you'd been treated like a real human being with respect and consideration, with no alpha, omega or beta stuffs behind it. You were simply Y/N. That was why you'd been able to open to them, to relax and feel at ease in their presence, but there was still a way to go, they were aware about that.

“It’s easy, we can just go and ask her." Yoongi stood up, ready to leave the apartment, "there's no point in speculating and making yourself feel bad," he continued, giving Jimin a gentle look, "I'm sure she'll be able to help us clear up this issue. She's the best person to tell us about it. "

Yoongi was the most impatient of all. But inside of him, he didn't want to admit that you had hidden something from them. Something that in one way didn't matter, but in another way did, more than they or even you realized.

“Wait hyung!” Jimin grabbed his arms to stop him. “Maybe it’s… something deeper than just a little secret she hides from us… If we go and find her now, she might panic, and things could go badly.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes but didn’t argue with him.

“I don't want to risk losing her... I couldn't bear that.”

Jimin ran a hand through his hair as he thought about how he'd felt when he'd seen you with San earlier in the day. Even though the interaction between you had been completely innocent, he had imagined you leaving him and his companions to go with him, Wooyoung, and their pack. This simple thought had given him a painful sensation in his lower abdomen that made him wince.

He knew you weren't interested in San, or Wooyoung, or anyone else for either (or so he thought). But despite everything, he still had this fear deep inside of him, of losing the people he loved.

"If you'd told her how you felt about her from the start you wouldn't be in this situation."

Jimin turned his head towards Taehyung, surprised and shocked by his words.

"Taehyung!"

"I'm totally right, Jin hyung! He already knows! We've already talked about it several times."

Jimin felt six pairs of eyes on him and shrugged. Yes, it was true that Jimin had confided in Taehyung several times about you. About his feelings for you that he'd kept deep inside him since high school, about his desire for you that only grew stronger with each passing day. More than once, Taehyung had tried to get Jimin to tell you how he felt, but without succeeding in convincing him.

To be honest, it wasn't really a secret that Jimin loved you and that you loved Jimin in return.

At least, it was obvious to everyone except both of you.

“Namjoon, Yoongi, and I were best friends too…” Jin giggled, “And here we are now.”

Namjoon chuckled and nodded. They had already talked about how they had become more than friends. A drunken evening together had been enough to loosen their tongues and open their hearts.

“We need to find a good way to figure out all of this,” concluded Hoseok, “and we should tell her, too. Everything.”

They all glanced at Hoseok. Some of them were tense, especially Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook. But Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon agreed with him.

“I don't know how you've done it, and I don't know how you've kept going all this time, Jimin,” Yoongi let out, stretching.

“Yeah, she's.... fuck I can't even describe it,” Namjoon muttered as he remembered what had happened between you and Yoongi a few weeks ago. In fact, it was that episode that had a triggering effect on him, on how he really felt about you. He also remembered noticing your change at that time, and that he would eventually get the answers to his questions.

Now he had them.

As for Yoongi, he didn't need all that to know that he felt an irrepressible attraction to you, the same as he felt for each of his companions.

They were all attracted to you. It wasn't the first time they'd talked about it, discussed a potential way to confess everything to you.

But how could they tell their roommate and beta friend that her seven alphas’ friends, one of whom had been her best friend since high school, all felt an attraction to her?

And what if her feelings weren’t mutuals to all of them?

“Listen…” Jimin began after few seconds, coming to his senses and straightening up, "I'll talk to her, let me talk to her first... but I need time to think about how to broach the subject, and with evaluations coming up..."

"Certainly Jimin, naturally." Namjoon replied in a gentle voice, moving closer to him and placing a kiss on his forehead, "whatever happens, you won't lose her. No one will lose anyone, I promise."

“But what do we do until then?” Asked Jungkook with a small pout.

“Well, I guess we had to wait, act normally, as we always have. We've been able to hold back all those months. Ah yes… years for you, Jimin.” Jin teased with a playful wink, ignoring the death gaze his boyfriend gave him, “we can hold back a little longer," he then affirmed with a nod, even if he was as unconvinced as his partners.

Their attraction to you was growing by the day. And the little encounter with Namjoon and Yoongi clearly showed that they were finding it harder and harder to contain themselves.

None of them wanted to lose you. And they would never, ever do or say anything to hurt you. They were all convinced that if you really were an omega, you had a good reason for keeping it from them until now.

°°°

You had no idea of the conversation going on upstairs, nor that Jungkook had heard a part of your call with Wooyoung and Yeosang. After hanging up with them, you left your room to go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Noticing that none of your Alpha friends were present in the apartment, you concluded that they had probably decided to spend the evening together. The idea pinched your heart somewhat. Of course, you couldn't blame them, they were together after all, you were just a friend to them (or so you thought). You didn't know why you felt this way. And you didn't like it. As if your life wasn't complicated enough as it was, with the sudden discovery that you were an omega that you didn't know how to handle or how to tell your best alpha friend without him thinking you'd been hiding it from him all these years. Losing him too... you didn't want to think about it. You didn't want to lose either of them.

One good news, however, was that there were currently no signs of potential heat. This gave you more time to think about how you would tell Jimin and the boys.

You didn't know when, or how they would show up, whether it would be like the first time, or not. But Wooyoung had reassured you that you'd feel the first symptoms coming on now that you were aware of your omega condition. With a sigh, you headed into the kitchen to prepare yourself something to eat. Tomorrow would be a busy day, as you and Wooyoung had planned to train for longer than usual, as the fateful date of the demonstration and therefore of the evaluation was next week, and you needed to keep up your strength.

You didn't have the energy or the mood to cook yourself an elaborate meal. Simple instant noodles would do. You were just going to add some meat and eggs to the preparation, nothing more.

It wasn't long afterwards, when you were waiting for the water to boil, leaning against the kitchen counter with your cell phone in hand, that you heard the front door open.

"Oh, you're back already?" you asked, noticing Jimin, Hoseok and Jungkook. "I thought you'd had a lovers' date or something."

Your tone had been sharper and colder than you'd expected. You felt your heart and stomach twist slightly. Your three friends who'd just returned didn't seem to notice though, and so much for the better.

"Not at all, with the evaluations coming up, we don't really have time for this sort of thing anymore!" replied Hoseok with a laugh, approaching her with his hands in his pockets, "what are you making? Instant noodles, really?"

Hoseok's tone seemed accusatory.

"Noona! You're a dancer! You need to eat better than that!" Jungkook exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling and shaking your head.

"No time or energy to make me a real thing. Would you like some too? Or have you guys already eaten? Don't say no and then steal my food as you always do!"

You heard Jimin's laughter, quickly followed by Jungkook and Hoseok.

Then, suddenly, reality hit you. It hit you as if a boxer had just punched you in the face.

Your head turned towards them, there they were, simply doing the simplest thing in the world. Talking, laughing, joking. And yet, it was as if it were the most beautiful thing, the most melodious sound you'd ever heard.

Your eyes widened, you stopped breathing for a few seconds, and you just stayed still, staring at them. Your heart was racing fast, too fast.

Oh.

Thinking back, what you were feeling, at that very moment, why your heart was beating so fast when you were with one of them, when you were with Jimin, since high school. This desire to always be with one of them, this feeling of security, of well-being, of safety you felt in their presence. There were no doubts.

Wooyoung and Yeosang had explained it to you. At first, you hadn't really understood what he meant at the time (or you didn't want to understand it, you weren’t ready for that truth), but now everything seemed clear.

As if the fog in your heart and mind had finally cleared.

The attraction of an omega to an alpha, of an alpha to an omega, only worked if the feelings were there too.

It was simple, and logical. You felt a bit foolish.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, drawing the attention of the three boys.

"Noona? Is everything all right?" Jimin asked, clearly worried.

You looked up at him and noticed with surprise that the water had probably been boiling for many minutes.

Jimin was standing not far from you, his beautiful brown eyes staring back at you. This simple eye contact between you had been enough to make your heart rate quicken again.

"Uh I... yeah, yeah everything's fine...!"

You turned to pick up the packets of instant noodles, noticing without much surprise that Jungkook had added two more.

Your intonation wasn't as confident as you'd hoped. You saw Jimin's gaze become more serious. He took a step towards you, making you take a step back.

You could feel his singular, distinctive scent invading you, as it had since the first day, you'd met in the high school dance club.

How could you not have noticed it before? How could you not have realized?

You were in love with your best friend.

You were in love with your best friend, and his companions, your friends.

Well, technically you'd realized it a few hours earlier when you called Wooyoung and Yeosang. But now, now that you were face to face with the people involved... now that you were confronted with the undeniable truth... things were different, totally different.

Your gestures were suddenly clumsier. You couldn't hide the fact that you were troubled for some reasons unknown to him.

To your relief, Hoseok and Jungkook were in the living room, seemingly focused on some program playing on the TV. But Jimin was still there, scanning you completely.

He was the one who'd known you best, for the longest time. He knew something was wrong, without really knowing exactly what.

How to tell him that in the space of a few weeks, you'd learned you were an omega, but on top of that, you'd just realized how you felt about him and your friends?

It was a lot to take in, to accept for someone who hadn't learned to express her feelings and emotions.

You had to calm down, not panic, not worry Jimin.

As for the last point, it was already a bit of a failure.

"Noona, please, talk to me..." he murmured, his hands resting delicately on your shoulders.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, resting your hands on his. They were so soft, you couldn't help but squeeze them, wanting to hold them longer.

You never wanted to let them go.

"I'm fine, just a little... stressed and tired, it'll get better after the evaluations, I promise."

Jimin didn't seem convinced, and you could read it on his face. You smiled at him and took him into your arms for a long hug, holding him tightly against you.

He seemed surprised at first, but eventually returned your embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and his head resting against your shoulder.

You made a decision. In truth, you'd made up your mind after your call with Wooyoung and Yeosang, but now you were sure and certain you wanted to do it.

After your evaluations, in less than two weeks, you'd confess everything to the boys.

... well, maybe not about your feelings for them. Not just yet, and maybe you never will. Never could your feelings be returned.

But you owed them the truth that you were an omega. You had an unspeakable fear of reliving the rejection you experienced with your family, but lying to your best friend, to your friends was worse than anything.

As you felt his warmth, his scent takes possession of your being, your body had relaxed.

"I'll always be with you Y/n, no matter what," Jimin murmured, his embrace around you tightening, and you couldn't contain the shiver as his breath brushed up against your skin, "you and me against the whole world, remember?"

He lifted his head, and you stared at him a few seconds before letting out a laugh. You hadn't heard those words since high school.

"Hey lovebirds, you're cute and all huh, but we're starving!”

"We're not lovebirds!" Jimin and you exclaimed at the same time, causing Jungkook and Hoseok, the one who spoke, to burst into hilarity.

You stepped back from Jimin and turned your back to him while he bickered with his two partners, mostly to hide your face and your blushes from them. You took the packets of noodles, the pre-cut meat, and the eggs. You put everything in the boiling water pan, taking long, slow breaths, trying to calm the pounding of your heart.

Damn it. Those guys will really be the death of you.

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casuallyimagining · 8 months

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Set Me Free || myg (teaser)

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: TBD (at least 10k. unclear if this is a one-shot or not) Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff, more to be added Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, more to be added

Notes: I don't really know when I might be posting this. I'm still in the process of writing it, but it feels about halfwayish done, and I'm excited about it, so I wanted to share!

teaser under the cut

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were toddlers and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Now he wanted you gone.

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the jewel cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger.

I am very curious to know your thoughts on this. I'm so fucking excited to post. stupid grad school is getting in the way of me being able to devote 100% of my time to it, but god I'm trying so hard to get it done.

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purpleyoonn · 6 months

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baby (you complete us) 12

C H A P T E R T W E L V E

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: protective bangtan, anxious mc, mc has a panic attack, more of mc’s background, mentions of bullying, some issues with consent, mc has all the feelings, Hobi bonding with mc, some cuteness overload,

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

beta’d/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias

masterlist // chapter 11 // chapter 13

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Previously on baby (you complete us):

“Thank you for doing this, Noona! We will tag you when it gets posted!” Yeonjun exclaims once you were done filming in front of one of the portraits outside of the café.

“Thank you! It was fun. I could really go for a drink now though!” You laugh as the boys agree with your statement, Taehyun and Soobin pulling your arms and dragging you into the café.

The café was one of the things you didn’t get to see on your tour with Songun, given it wasn’t near the meeting room you met the boys in. You were still shocked when you walked in and realized the café was more like a cafeteria, with many different food options, vendors, and drink options galore. You were awestruck, ignoring the laughter coming from the boys as they dragged you to the smaller coffee vendor.

“What drink would you like, Noona?” Taehyun asked you as he began looking over the options. You looked over the menu but didn’t see anything you recognized so you just told him to pick something out for you.

His eyes grew wide in excitement, animatedly looking over the coffee options as you turned around, looking for a seat nearby. Your knee was giving you trouble as you could feel it shifting with every step you took, and you needed to massage it soon before it inevitably popped out.

You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your new friends, and a sure-fire way to do that was to have your body work against you. You couldn’t stand the looks you would get whenever you had to pop something back in or massage your body to counteract the pain you felt in your joints.

You moved to the counter to pay, only after receiving a weird look from the barista did you realize you forgot you didn’t have to pay for anything. You nod your head awkwardly, not waiting for the boys as you moved to the closest seat and began massaging the muscles around your knee cap. You couldn’t stand up any longer or you knew your kneecap would pop out.

You sit down slowly, with care, and place your drink on the table before bending down a little to massage the muscle to the side of your knee cap. It was a long-practiced massage, something your specialist recommended to you when you were in school and always on the move. You were regretting not bringing your cane with you today, thinking you wouldn’t need it.

You always did this to yourself. You had a good day yesterday, so you thought you would have one today. But of course, why would you have two good days in a row?

“Are you okay, Noona?” Taehyun had come up to you, noticing you had disappeared from next to him. He was concerned that you were hurt, seeing you rub at your knee. The entire building knew about your disability, a few concerned words overheard by one of the staff after walking past Jin and Sejin had spread to everyone within the span of an hour.

Your head shot up at Taehyun’s question, not realizing he was standing in front of you.

“Y-Yes, I’m okay.” You nod your head as you speak, trying to reassure him you were fine, but failing to do so as your stutter gives you away. You try to play it off as you forgot the word for yes, but he just shook his head.

“Do we need to go get hyungs?” Taehyun asks just as the others walk over.

“Go get hyungs for what?” Beomgyu questions Taehyun before seeing you and the way you were practically cradling your knee. “Ahhhhhh.” He nods his head in understanding.

“Do you need us to go get the hyungs?” Heuning Kai ask you softly, leaning over so he was almost whispering in your ear. You appreciate the sentiment, but it seems people were beginning to look your direction anyway.

You look around shyly, not wanting everyone to know what was going on.

“Everyone is curious about BTS hyungs’ soulmate.” Yeonjun states, seeing the way you were looking around. “The announcement was pretty big, especially after the one they put out about trying to find you.” You let out a sigh at his words, understanding what was going on but that didn’t mean you necessarily felt comfortable with all the looks.

“Why don’t we take you back to Hyungs? They should be having a break right now…” Yeonjun trailed off as he looked at his phone.

“Okay.” You stood up slowly, testing your weight on your knee, hiding your wince at the sharp pain.

“Oh! I promised them I would bring them something back from the café!” You make for the counter again but hands gently push you back into your seat.

“Rest, noona. We will go get hyung’s favorites!”

-*-*-

And grab their favorites they did. Not only did they arrive back to the table with three drink carriers and two paper bags filled with pastries, but they insisted to helping you to bring everything back to the practice room, Soobin even assisting you in walking once he realized you were favoring your leg.

“You better put your arm back by your side, Soobin!” You chastis for the third time, seeing him bring his arm back out to try and carry you. He kept insisting that he didn’t want you walking on your leg and that he should carry you back to the room, but, of course, you insisted the opposite. You weren’t fragile and didn’t need to be carried anywhere.

“Hyung, will you get the door please!” Beomgyu and Taehyun plead out, trying to not have the drink carriers fall as they make it to the door. Soobin looks at you again, before moving over to the door of the boys’ practice room, music still blasting from the speakers. You recognized the song this time as the chorus to Idol plays. As the door opens you begin to limp over to Yeonjun who holds one of the pastry bags and a drink carrier.

“Here, give me one.” You hold your hand out, but he shakes his head.

“Noona, you’re hurt. It’s okay.” He steps back, moving towards the open door but you just follow him.

“I’m fine though! I promise. I just want to help.” You insist again, stepping into the room and still reaching for the pastry bag.

“Noona you’re hurt. You don’t need to be carrying anything.” Yeonjun is stubborn, you’ll give him that, but unfortunately, someone overhears his words. Footsteps come pounding towards you and Soobin and suddenly you are picked up, your chest pressed against theirs and your thighs tossed around their hips.

“Jungkook, I’m fine!” You whine as soon as you realize who picked you up, his scent making you feel calm despite your embarrassment. You slumped in his arms, trying to hide yourself in his sweatshirt hood as he walked away from the younger boys.

“What happened?” You hear Namjoon ask Heuning Kai as he was closest to the leader.

“Y/n Noona hurt her knee at the cafe.” Was his simple reply, not exactly knowing what happened to your knee.

Jungkook carried you over to the seat you were sitting in before, and proceeded to kneel in front of you and holding your leg up so he could look over your knee. He instantly became a “doctor” prodding and running his fingers over the expanse of your knee, trying to feel for anything out of the normal.

Yoongi and Taehyung also came over, leaning over Jungkook and looking at your knee, the three men ignoring your attempts to push them away. You were bordering the line between feeling embarrassed and humiliated and it had your cheeks red and eyes blurring with tears.

“Please stop. I’m fine.” You repeated, trying to get their hands off of you. You didn’t care that they were your soulmates at this moment, you just wanted to go back to your hotel.

“Please stop touching me. I’m okay.” You tried to push Jungkook’s hands away, but he was more focused on your knee, even though his touch wasn’t helping in the slightest. You could tell that the others could hear you, Jimin and Namjoon glancing your way and Hoseok trying to get the focus of everyone off of you by asking the boys what they had brought.

You felt like you were in school again, getting made fun of for your knee dislocating in gym class. You hated everyone watching you, trying to see if you were faking or not, ignoring the pain and tears rolling down your cheeks as your gym teacher stresses over your disfigured knee, wondering if she should call and ambulance.

The insults “attention whore” and “lazy” running through your mind from when you were younger as everyone in the room continues to look at you now, Namjoon and Jimin beginning to walk your way as Jin says his thanks to the boys. One final prod of your knee from Yoongi has you snapping, pushing them away from you and pulling your knee to yourself.

“I asked you to please stop touching me.” You push out, trying to stop the tears already flowing down your cheeks. You were even more embarrassed now, crying in front of them. You hated how emotional you get, especially when you get stuck in your head with your past.

“Baby, I—” You cut off Yoongi, his face shocked at your actions.

“I think I would like to go back to my hotel now.” You whispered, withdrawn, and looking down at your lap. You felt a tug in your chest as Jungkook moved closer, trying to get you to look at him.

“Baby, We’re sorry. We just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“We got worried when we heard Soobinnie say you were hurt. Our instincts took over.” Taehyung finished Jungkook’s thought. Namjoon tried not to interrupt, but he knew he had to.

“Our instincts don’t make us ignore the words of our mate, though. We all heard her ask you not to touch her.” Namjoon scolded the three, even Yoongi looking down in guilt.

“We are all so sorry, Y/n. We should have listened to you; there is no excuse.” Yoongi spoke up, his eyes piercing your own as he spoke.

Jimin, Jin, and Hoseok stood a couple feet away, watching as you close in on yourself. Jimin couldn’t believe how everything changed so quickly. They were making such good progress with you, their bond with you was growing and solidifying and now, he was only hoping you didn’t change hotels and block their numbers.

“Honey, please stay. I know that you want your alone time, but you just entered the next stage of the bond with Jungkook. It will hurt both of you if you are alone for two long now. At least, until we all have completed the bond.” Namjoon explains. “Besides that, I don’t think you really want to be alone right now.” His town turning in on her.

And he was right. The first stage of the bond had just solidified with Jungkook the night before. You knew what would happen if you were apart for long. You also knew you didn’t want to be alone. You hated that he was right about that.

All you wanted was to be comforted, to be wrapped in their arms and told that everything was okay. You’ve never felt like that before. Usually you want to be alone, lying in bed and wrapped under the covers, completely hidden from view.

Now, all you wanted was to be comforted by your soulmates.

One look from you was all it took for Jungkook to lift you off the chair and into his arms, sitting himself down and holding you in his lap. The tug in your chest finally settling, the embarrassment and insecurity slowly ebbing away the longer he held you to him.

Once the others started moving away, Jungkook having motioned to them while you weren’t paying attention, he began to comb his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he did so. He knew it helped soothe your mind and calm your body.

“I am so sorry, baby. I need to open my ears and become more aware even with my instincts screaming at me.” He squeezed you a little tighter. “Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t leave.” You could truly hear the fear behind his words, thinking you would leave them.

Jungkook had really thought he messed up everything. He thought you were going to reject them now; he was so sure about it. He tried not to imagine the pain the others would feel at your absence, and only hoped he could fix things between you.

“I may not…understand the bond like you do.” You started, still trying to find your words. “But I wouldn’t reject you all over something as small as this.” Almost immediately Jungkook began to protest.

“It’s not ‘something small’ if it makes you cry.” He adjusted you on his lap so you were now facing him. “We are all still getting to know each other, still growing the bond our souls have. I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it now, but I would like to know what made you cry so I can fix it.” He brings his palm up to your cheek, cupping it. “I hate seeing you cry. It makes me want to fight who or whatever it is that made those precious tears fall.”

You look down again, trying to decide if you had enough courage to tell him the real reason behind your tears, or a slimmed down version of your feelings.

“I uhm, was embarrassed.” You decide to tell him, to try and explain what was going through your head.

“When I was younger, before the doctors had figured out what was wrong with me, I was just known as “clumsy” and “lazy” by everyone. No one ever taking my pain or injuries seriously. Even doctors just told me it was my weight, despite being healthy. I was told I was just looking for attention.” You tried blinking away your tears, feeling them begin to pool on your waterline.

“It got really bad when physical education became a class in middle school and high school. I hadn’t received a diagnosis yet which meant I had to push my limits for a grade. One day…” You pause, swallowing down the choking sob so you could talk.

“We were supposed to be running the mile for our fitness test. I was in eighth grade and barely lasted one lap before my knee dislocated. It wasn’t the first time any of my joints fully dislocated, but it hurt all the same.” You began to explain the memory you flashed back to. You couldn’t help but grip his shirt tighter, your body full of anxiety.

Jungkook almost wants to tell you to stop. That he doesn’t need to know, not if it makes your heart hurt, or if you are pushing yourself to open up to him. That was the last thing he wanted to do, to push you into anything.

“I remember falling to the ground, my knee in excruciating pain. I hadn’t gotten used to the feeling yet, but I didn’t want to have everyone looking at me and wondering “What did she do now?” like I did this on purpose. I didn’t want anyone’s attention and I remember swearing to myself that I would finish the mile. So, I moved to put my knee back into place but the teacher had already seen me on the floor.” You grimace, remembering vividly how she ran up to you.

“Her voice seemed to be attached to a microphone as she yelled across the field, telling me not to touch my knee and asking if I was okay. She made a huge deal about it, sitting next to me and trying to figure out if she should call an ambulance. She even got another teacher involved.” Jungkook was confused, wanting to know what you meant by making a big deal out of the situation.

“I had spent months already putting my knee back into place and with everyone looking at me I just remember starting to cry, pushing my teacher away. Everyone’s stares on me, the whispers I could hear and the laughter coming from some of my classmates had me feeling humiliated. I felt even worse when my teacher did call an ambulance.” You whispered the last sentence, unable to stop the tears from slowly falling down your cheek.

Jungkook now understood everything, with the help of some of the Soul Bracelet messages he remembered reading. (read: that he continues to read every night so he doesn’t forget anything) He recalled reading multiple messages where you vented about growing up hearing that you needed to stop “attention seeking” and that you were faking your injuries, with classmates making fun of you, and no one believing you, that day was just a culmination of everything at once. Your dislike of attention and being the center of it, especially when injured, now made complete sense.

He couldn’t help it, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up so he could see you. The feeling of your wet skin under his thumb as he wiped away your tears was something he didn’t want to feel again under the circumstances. Placing a soft and slow kiss to your lips, trying to push through his feelings of love and admiration for you, he held you close, closer than he already was.

He knew he would tell the boys this later on, somehow, but for now, you needed him.

“I am so sorry, baby. For everything. I will do my absolute best to stop that from happening again now that I know.” Jungkook kissed your mouth again, a chaste kiss that had your lips tingling. You don’t think you will get used to that, ever.

-*-*-

You were able to be held by Jungkook only for a little bit longer, seeing as they did have things to do today. But after receiving his hoodie again, you were happily snuggled into it eating your forgotten watermelon cup from earlier. You had borrowed Namjoon’s headphones, after repeatedly asking if he was sure, and watched TikToks on your phone.

You don’t know how long has passed before Taehyung is placing kisses to your face in a quick attack to steal your attention. A squeal escapes your lips as the headphones fall off your head and another set of kisses is aimed.

“Oh baby! We’re all finished which means kisses!” Taehyung sings, making you laugh at the reminder. But before he can give your face even more kisses, he is pulled away by Jin.

“Hi, baby. We have some recording to do in the studio, but after that we were hoping to take you to dinner. Then maybe some movies at our place?” Jin smiled at you, seemingly nonchalant but on the inside, he was freaking out. His eyes showed the hope he had for the evening, showed his desire to just get to know you more and spend time with you.

To you, it sounded nice. Just a simple night with all seven of them. It’s not something you’ve had the chance to experience yet. You make the first move this time, moving forward and putting your lips on his plump ones, shocking the man. Jin was in heaven at the feeling of your lips on his and he almost cried when the kiss was over, your big smile aimed at him ones he opened his eyes again.

“That sounds nice, Jinnie.” You verbally respond to his words, making the others silently cheer at your acceptance.

You move to snuggle back into the couch, only for Jin’s hand to move into your line of vision, his palm up and ready for you to take. You look up at him, confusion written on your face.

“You didn’t think we were going to leave you here, did you?” Jin’s tone was teasing but held a real question, wondering if he didn’t make the plans obvious enough.

You did actually think the plan was for you to stay in the practice room. You didn’t know what rooms you had access to yet, despite the boys saying you had access to everything they did. You didn’t know if they were just saying that or not.

“Oh uhm, okay.” You didn’t answer his question, but the blush of embarrassment on your cheeks did. But Jin, nor the others, said anything about it. They knew the relationship between you all was still so new, so innocent that they didn’t want anything to go wrong, not like the incident earlier.

You took his hand and he helped you up off the couch, not letting go of your hand as he led you out the doors and through the building until you reached the studio he was talking about.

On the way to the studio, you walked by numerous staff members but your eyes stuck on the trainees who passed by as well. There were a couple groups of them, probably going from class to class, you thought. They bowed to your group a couple of times, some of them even stopping to bow a full ninety degrees. It was weird seeing it, but you knew it was a show of respect for the boys.

Jin was first up to do his thing in the studio, your eyes barely catching the soft wink he sends you as he gives your hand a small squeeze before letting go and moving into the booth as your vision swept over the recording studio. There were buttons and keys of all kinds and you were curious and wanted to push every single one, needing to know what each button did.

Hoseok caught your eye and put his hand on your lower back, moving you to sit in the producer’s chair and he knelt by your side. He knew it would take some time for Jin to get himself ready in the booth, so he took the time to indulge your curiosity.

The others watched on as Hobi spoke animatedly about the digital audio workstation, pressing buttons and telling Jin to speak into the microphone to show what each button did. Hobi loved the way your eyes lit up when a particular button made Jin sound like a chipmunk. He loved the sparkle in your eye and the fascination with the workstation. He couldn’t help but imagine you and him in the studio one day, making a song together.

When Jin was ready, Hobi let you stay in the chair, telling you what buttons to push while he instructed the room. Hobi, along with Namjoon and Yoongi, were in full producer mode now, but still held patience as you pushed the buttons and used the workstation.

As each member went into the booth, Hobi would let you know how to save the audio and would give you the biggest smile and praise you for your work and help.

“You could be our producer!” He smiled so wide that you ended up blushing under his praise. You felt like a little kid, wanting to do anything to make Hobi smile and praise you again.

“No, no. I’m just pushing the buttons.” You tried to play it off but he just shook his head, shaking his finger at you.

“Nope! You are now our producer.” He stated it with such conviction that you had to look away from him, not wanting him to see you blush, your cheeks surely lobster red by now.

Once the boys were done, two hours or so had passed. Hobi explained to you that they just needed to record some adlibs for their final song for the album, and that it would be quick. Having seen some “Bangtan Bombs” where the boys were in the studio, you could only guess they were normally here for hours and hours a day.

You had been so relaxed and at ease that you didn’t even realize Hobi had slipped his hand in yours, intertwining your hands together so he could hold it. It took him helping you out of the chair for you to notice. You didn’t realize how easy it was to feel comfortable with Hobi, to feel like you had known him forever.

Being with Hobi was easy and simple. Effortless.

It was like you could go to him for anything and you knew he would just smile and listen to you. It also helped that he had a penchant for squeezing your hand in reassurance, as if speaking to you in morse code. He just smiles softly at you and hums under his breath. His actions speak louder than his words, the silence filled with so much that you don’t even notice the silence when you’re with him.

As you all move to the big SUV to go to the restaurant the boys rented out, you pull Hobi so sit next to you, feeling the same way you did with Jungkook the previous day. You wanted to see who he was beyond the cameras of Bangtan that you got to know him from. You had a sweet smile on your face, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you laid your head on his shoulders, smiling softly, wanting to stay in this moment for a little longer.

The car ride was filled with music and lots of talking; Taehyung asking what the name of the restaurant was, Namjoon asking what kinds of movies we all wanted to watch that night, Jungkook asking what snacks we were going to have, all while you and Hobi just talked. You asked him about his family and he asked about yours.

You already knew about his older sister, and he somewhat knew about your siblings, but he

still listened attentively as you talked about your family.

“My older sister is protective and was the one to help me get my diagnosis after my mom passed. She went to every appointment with me and made sure I was eating and drinking. She actually made a joke at one point that you all would be my soulmates, and after I got off the phone with you the first time, I immediately called her.” Hobi smiled as he listened, glad to know that you had someone there for you when they couldn’t be. It hurt to know you suffered through so much in such a short time frame.

He rubbed his thumb across the top of your hand, trying to soothe you as he noticed your voice shaking a little.

“My brother, on the other hand, is also protective, but like the stereotypical older brother way. He is the only other one of us who has met his soulmate. Lena is super sweet and they met in middle school. She’s like an older sister to me.” At some point, everyone else in the car had stopped their conversations to listen to you. They wanted to know everything they could, and they loved knowing you had a supportive family by your side.

When you got to the restaurant, you ended up sitting in between Hobi and Jungkook at the large booth. Jin took control of ordering the food, while Hobi and Jungkook whispered to you what Jin was ordering so you knew what was going on. It was really sweet.

While waiting for the food, you joined in on the movie conversation that Namjoon and Jimin had started. They seemed to be fighting over two different movies and you questioned why you couldn’t just watch them both. They looked at you and began trying to get you to see their point of view.

“We don’t want to watch it again because its boring…”

“He always falls asleep during the best parts!”

“There are so many mindless plot points that…”

Your head was whipping back and forth as you tried to keep up with their arguments, the boys speaking so fast you eventually had to give up. You sat back down in your seat, returning the soft smiles that Jin and Yoongi gave you from across the table.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. They always get this way about movies. We tend to just pick one out and put it on before they notice anyways.” Hobi leans over and whispers in your ear, making you nod your head in understanding.

“They get passionate like this over movies, huh?” You ask, almost rhetorically, as you watch it firsthand. You smiled as you watched them, Jimin throwing sass making Namjoon roll his eyes at the younger man.

“They are more alike than I think they realize.” Hobi whispers back, “They are both passionate beings. Just in different ways. But they both have strong feelings about what they believe in, which makes the debate about which movie to watch an entertaining and sometimes chaotic event.” Hearing his words, you had a new perspective for the two boys, not even just in the capacity of arguing. It was like a new light shown on the two men and it had you wanting to know more about them.

After Hobi’s words, a multitude of waiters came over and placed plate upon plate of food down on the table. The entire table was covered with food and it was at this moment you realized just how much food the boys could eat. You guessed most of the plates would be empty by the time you all were ready to leave.

Your guess was cemented once Jin grabbed his first piece of food, signaling to everyone else that they could start. You didn’t know what to grab, everything looking so good, that you were kind of sitting there in awe. You were shaken out of it though once you saw chopsticks placing meat onto your empty plate.

Hobi, on pure instinct, was making sure you had enough food on your plate before everyone else got their pick. He tried giving you a little of everything, but he also gave you some extra meat pieces, knowing you had a liking for them from your KBBQ trip with the maknaes.

Once Hobi put the first piece of meat on your plate, however, Taehyung and Jungkook noticed and also began putting food on your plate. Soon enough your plate was overflowing with food, and you had to stop your mates from continuing to give you more food.

It was a sweet gesture, but you couldn’t even make a dent in your plate. You ate slowly, savoring every flavor and taste you could. Despite not being used to Korean cuisine yet, you were slowly falling in love with all of it. Unfortunately, you could not handle any spice. You wanted to, but your mouth would slowly descend into flames if you even tried to eat anything even remotely spicy.

So, at one point, you’re pretty sure you asked for a drink refill three times within ten minutes.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked you, noticing you fanning your mouth from the heat as you slowly chewed your food.

“Uhm, yeah.” Your voice was pitched higher as you tried to reassure him you were fine, eyes watering and cheeks heating up.

Jungkook just quirked his eyebrow at you, automatically catching you in your lie. Taehyung was the same way with spicy foods, so Jungkook knew you were battling against the foods he had put on your plate. He didn’t mean to, he only wanted you to be able to try everything.

Movement from the side caught your attention, as Hobi found a small empty plate and began removing everything on your own plate that was spicy and depositing it onto the smaller plate with the help of Taehyung. They both had seen how you reacted to the food and Taehyung helped tell Hobi everything that would give you trouble, knowing from experience.

It was nice and heartwarming; it didn’t make you feel like a burden. Normally if this happened, if you tried to do something about it, like ordering a glass of milk, you friends would make fun of you, or your family would complain that they had to always go through the trouble of not getting what they wanted because you couldn’t handle anything spicy.

Despite having a supportive and loving family, it was hard not to feel like you were a burden growing up. Sometimes a single scoff or deep breath of air from someone could have you becoming silent, trying to hide behind your hair.

The boys didn’t make you feel this way. They didn’t make exaggerated movements as they removed the spicy food from your plate; they only sent you reassuring smiles and glances as they made sure they removed everything.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t like spicy foods either.” Taehyung reassured you again, before starting to eat his food, not giving the situation a second glance or thought. It was nice and left you smiling as you continued to eat slowly, still struggling with using the chopsticks you were given.

For your first meal with everyone, the boys wanted to document it.

“Okay everyone, smoosh together!” Jin yelled out so he could get everyone into frame on his phone. He was the one taking the selfie, his long arms giving him the advantage as he sat at the end of the table.

You had your cheeks almost pressed to Hobi’s as he had an arm around your shoulder. Your height was not giving you any advantage as you tried not to be hidden by anyone. You were standing on your tippy toes and smiling as big as you could, showing just how truly happy you were in the moment.

This was the first time you truly felt a part of the soul group and connected to each of the boys.

“Okay…and 3, 2, 1!” You blinked as the flash went off, hoping that your eyes weren’t closed in the photo. Jin took a couple of pictures, each one had everyone doing something different, at one point, Jungkook and Hobi both pushed their fingertips into your cheeks causing laughter to bubble from your throat.

“Are you gonna post those on Weverse, Hyung?” Jungkook asked once the photos were taken and everyone was moving towards the doors, content from their bellies being full.

The boys had all tried being active on all of their social media, but they were all still partial to Weverse, liking that they got to interact firsthand with Army. They loved reading the comments on their posts and hoped that you would come to as well.

“Yeah, but I don’t know which one to post.” Jin responded but knew he would probably post a different one to each of the Bangtan Official social media accounts.

He zoomed into your face on the last photo, laughter clear on your face as your eyes were closed. He wanted to take more pictures of you, thinking you were the perfect muse for his camera. He couldn’t help but to think you were the perfect fit for them, for their soul bond.

Jin was happy you were their missing piece.

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agusrkive · 2 months

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“Do you wanna see my cat?” gone wrong.

summary: woman faces the consequence of inviting an innocent guy into her house who just wants to see her ‘cat’.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

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angelicyoongie · 1 year

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lovesick (IX)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 11.4k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, dissociation/panic attacks, mild dub-con (character trying to force a kiss), other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold!

Previous - Next

You pull a chunky sweater – Namjoon’s, you think – over your head, the thick wool settling heavily on your shoulders. It makes you want to crawl out of your own skin whenever you have to wear their clothes. You don’t have much of a choice, though, unless you want to freeze your ass off.

They thankfully had enough forethought to bring some of your clothes with them the night they broke into your apartment, but the majority of it isn't warm enough to fend off the dropping temperatures in the cabin. You may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. You know it wasn’t an accident that your warmest clothes were left behind.

You pick at the sweater, frowning, as you nip at it with your nails. You know it’s childish to ruin their things but it’s truly the only way you can act out without foiling your plans. Screaming at them won’t help you one bit and you need some form of outlet for your anger. By the time they pick up on all the tiny holes in their clothes, you’ll hopefully be long gone.

Standing in the middle of the room, you listen intently in the direction of your closed door. When the hallway remains silent, you dart over to your bedside table, carefully opening the heaviest book there. You pull out the thin metal bookmark that’s been nestled strategically between the pages, clutching it in your hand as you hurry over to the window.

You bend down, finding the place you left off yesterday before you resume digging it into the space between sash and the windowsill, slowly chipping away at the paint.

You found the bookmark completely by chance, having it literally fall into your lap a little over a week ago. It was the first time you had dared to touch your belongings after you woke up. Somehow, not touching your things made everything feel a little less real, like if you just wished hard enough, you would blink and find yourself back in your apartment where everything belonged.

But, after a week of pretending you didn’t want to throw up whenever one of your kidnappers brushed up against you, the craving for something familiar became too great.

The bookmark had felt like a godsend. Your heart had squeezed painfully as you remembered that Heejun had gifted it to you many years ago – how it was the first thing he bought after he received his first measly paycheck back when you were teenagers. Who would have thought it would end up being the only tool available to you to escape the stalkers you had so desperately tried to protect him from.

You drive the bookmark in with a huff, hitting the edge with your palm.

You’re pretty confident you’ve been trapped in this cabin for two weeks, give or take a few days. So far, sticking to your plan has been harder than you anticipated. It’s tough, acting like your skin doesn’t crawl when they try to hold your hand, or that your face doesn’t want to twist into a murderous scowl whenever they look at you. No matter how sweet or thoughtful they try to be, you can’t stop thinking about the things they’ve done – the torture they’ve been putting you through for the past year. Even if it goes against every fibre of your being to be around them, you know that this is your only way out. You have to make them trust you, make them comfortable enough to let their guards down, and that’s when you’ll be able to escape.

You never expected it to be easy – how could it be? – but the pretending is beginning to take a toll on you. You’re tired of being locked up, tired of being watched, tired of being around them. It’s a fatigue you can’t escape from no matter how much you try to sleep, and the constant weariness has caused a few near slip-ups already.

It made you unable to stop yourself from jerking away from Taehyung’s hand, despite hearing his footsteps coming up behind you in the hallway long before your arm was touched. It made you flinch when Yoongi stroked the top of your head in passing, even though you had seen him coming. It made your eyes narrow when Hoseok passed you a cup of perfectly normal water.

The weariness is faint, but it’s there.

And somehow, every time it breaches the surface, Jimin is always there to catch it.

He seems to particularly enjoy pushing your buttons. It might be because he knows, at least suspects, that you’re only acting, but Jimin always has a calculating look in his eye when he invades your personal space, when he pushes himself too close for comfort. He’s clearly not that easily fooled by your little act, but you have no clue how to convince him otherwise.

You wince as you hit the bookmark a little too hard, the metal leaving a deep indent behind on your palm.

You take that as your cue to stop chipping away for today, not willing to tempt fate by continuing and risk getting caught. After returning the bookmark to its hiding place, you step back to the window to sweep up the little chips of loose paint into your hand.

Sighing, you take in the sorry state of your precious plants, the poor things having browned and wilted from the increasingly colder temperatures in the cabin. You know there’s no way to save them now that they’re already half-dead, but the dark soil is still of use to you, especially since it proves to be a perfect cover for paint shavings.

You dust off your hands, gaze sweeping over your room to make sure nothing looks out of the ordinary. Deeming everything fine, you turn your attention to your closed door, squaring your shoulders as you listen to the muffled sounds coming from somewhere else in the cabin.

You can do this, you tell yourself, even though both your heart and mind screams no. Straightening yourself out, you glance back at your wilted plants as you open the door. Seeing the dead leaves makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

The only thing you can hope, is that you’ll get out of here before you share the same fate.

You stare down at the pastel yarn in your lap, fingers nimbly casting on another stich as you knit. You enjoy the mindlessness of it – of how you can let your mind wander while your hands work on their own. It's a hobby you picked up a few years ago by chance, when you were procrastinating writing a paper and ended up falling down the rabbit hole of watching people knit chunky blankets at two am. You’ve gotten decently good at it now, at least enough to know some basic recipes by heart.

A sudden huff on your left almost makes you lose a stitch.

You cast a quick glance over at Seokjin as the couch shifts, your own needles pausing as you take in the absolute mess he’s made of the yarn in his hands. Seokjin is pouting down at his creation, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he fumbles awkwardly with his knitting needles. Judging by the jumbled thread around his fingers, he’s just been creating knots for the past few minutes. The sight would’ve been endearing, maybe, if the situation was different. You can picture it a little too easily, how head over heels in love you could’ve been with Seokjin if he had approached you normally. How you would’ve swooned with fondness watching him try so hard to share your hobby with you.

You shake your head, casting the thoughts away before they can settle. It doesn’t matter what could have been when the reality is still this – you’re trapped in a cabin that’s god knows where because he, and the others, are crazy. Whatever weird thing they’re trying to pull by bringing you things you like and participating in your hobbies isn’t going to work. You know that biting your tongue and enduring their antics is an necessary evil, that spending time with them will only help you to better understand what makes them tick - but each passing day is only bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

“That doesn’t look right, hyung.” Hoseok chuckles as he walks past the couch, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

He takes a seat on the opposite couch, pulling Jungkook’s feet into his lap. Jungkook is reading one of books Namjoon brought for you, his doe eyes suddenly growing big as he seems to get to particularly interesting plot point. You don’t think it’s a coincidence that he picked the same book you finished yesterday.

As is, you’ve been seeing a lot of them over the past few days.

The boys seem to have worked out a system, something that’ll help them keep up appearances and avoid bringing any suspicion to themselves. It sounded like Hoseok was the one that came up with the idea – of the boys grouping up to stay in the cabin in rotating shifts. Both Seokjin and Hoseok have employees to take over their shifts, Seokjin giving the excuse that he’s trying to branch out the business and thus needs to visit florist fairs out of town, and Hoseok simply stating he wants to take time off for himself now that the shop is doing well. Jungkook can mostly do as he pleases, it’s not like any of your professors take attendance, but you’ve heard him whining to Seokjin about doing extra shifts at Déjà Bloom to make up for the eldest absence.

It seems that Taehyung and Yoongi are established enough in their careers that they can work from home (or the cabin, rather) a few days a week, but you’ve heard them grumbling to the others that their presence is often needed in-house to finish up projects. Jimin, on the other hand, already works in shifts at the station, three days on, one or two days off. You don’t doubt he somehow managed to charm the other officers to give him the best shifts – they seemed willing to break their backs for him the times you visited the station.

It’s Namjoon you’ve seen the least to.

It’s not that surprising, not when he basically runs the local library by himself. He’s already ranted twice about how little support the library gets from the city, so you think it’s safe to assume that he doesn’t have the funds to hire another full-time worker to help him out. You should be glad that it doesn’t leave much time for him to come to the cabin, that he can only come up during the evening and stay until the morning after every now and then, but it only seems to leave him even clingier than normal. The cabin feels extra stifling whenever he comes to visit, with how he constantly hovers around you, holding your hands and hugging you close so that you don’t catch a cold, darling. It makes pretending you don’t mind it just a smidge harder every time.

“I’m trying my best! It’s harder than it looks.” Seokjin whines, hair flopping dramatically as he flings his head back.

You watch his throat bob, lips still pursed in a soft pout as he gently calls out to you, ”Y/n, can you please help me?”

You press your lips into a strained smile, sighing internally as you look at the knotted and lopsided creation in his hands. You don’t even quite understand how he’s managed to tangle it up so badly in such a short time, but the only help you can offer him at this point is just to unravel the whole thing to start anew.

“Sure, give it here.” You murmur.

Seokjin flashes you a sheepish grin as he hands the yarn over, the tips of his ears turning pink as you grimace at the mess. You pull the knitting needles out from the last remaining stitches, tugging on the yarn to find the first knot you’ll have to untie.

“You know you don’t have to force yourself to do this if you don’t enjoy it, right?” You say, staring down at the string as you work to loosen it up.

Honestly, it would be better for you if he didn’t. I do have to spend time with them, but you’d much rather just sit in awkward silence over being reminded of them every time you go to do one of your hobbies after you get out of here.

“I’m not forcing myself to do anything, angel, I want to learn how to knit. I might not be very good right now but I still enjoy it, because it means I get to spend time with you."

You don’t meet the lovesick gaze that burns into the side of your face.

Hoseok does an exaggerated shudder on the other couch, jostling Jungkook’s legs with the movement. ”You’re so sappy, hyung, you’re going to make me gag.”

Seokjin makes an affronted noise, chucking one of the pillows behind his back at Hoseok in retaliation. The pillow ends up veering too much to left, smacking right into the youngest’s head instead of his intended target. Jungkook startles at the impact, too absorbed in his book to even see it coming, shocked eyes blinking back at Seokjin as the pages slip from his grasp.

“What?–”

“Ah, Seokjin hyung, stop bullying Jungkook! The poor baby didn’t do anything wrong!” Hoseok snickers behind his hand as he fusses over Jungkook. He tucks some of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear, gently patting his cheeks to bring him back from the unexpected shock.

“Jungkook-ah, h-hyung didn’t mean it!” Seokjin stutters.

Drowning out their bickering, you turn back to the tangled mess in your hands as Jungkook uses the opportunity to tease Seokjin, joining Hoseok to gang up on him. Your brows furrow as you work on an especially difficult knot, the yarn tied so firmly you struggle to get a hold of it. You’re so focused that you almost don’t realize how the sound of Seokjin’s exasperated voice and Jungkook and Hoseok’s laughter makes your movements falter, heart squeezing in your chest.

You brush of the weird feeling immediately, refusing to linger on the implications as you chalk up the odd moment of weakness on your growing cabin fever.

By the time you’re almost completely done with unravelling Seokjin’s creation, you feel a gentle nudge on your arm. You glance up to find Seokjin already staring at you, his face lighting up as you meet his gaze.

“You know what, angel, I don’t think I ever got to tell you about the time I first saw you.”

You give him a weary look, already knowing you’re probably not going to like where this is going. ”What do you mean? The day at the flower shop?”

“No, the first time, Y/n.” Seokjin smiles, a little bashful. ”It was, eight – nine? months ago, when I was on my way home after closing the shop. It was weird, I ended up taking a completely different route than I normally do and I wasn’t even sure why. There was just this pull, an urge to follow this unknown feeling and figure out what it meant. It ended up leading me to a random grocery store and I suddenly knew there was something I desperately needed in there. I had no clue what it could be, but I figured it would come to me as I walked around.”

“I had almost made my way through the entire building when I finally rounded an aisle, and watched as some kid ran straight into your legs, knocking you over. I almost thought I was dreaming when I felt the pain in my own legs as you connected with the floor. I had already come to terms with never meeting my soulmate, and there you suddenly were, right in front of me.” Seokjin’s voice is thick with emotion, his eyes glossy as he reaches out to take your hand in his.

Because you have to, you allow his warm fingers to wrap around yours, letting it chase away some of the chill in the room despite the fireplace roaring with life close by.

Hoseok and Jungkook look enraptured by Seokjin’s story, and think you can see a faint tremble to youngest’s lips. His tale clearly resonates with the other two, and you have no doubt the others would react similarly if they were here to hear it. It makes you a little jealous, almost, how they get to have memories of relief and happiness over finding their soulmate, while yours is shrouded in terror and confusion.

Seokjin gives you an apologetic smile, squeezing your hand as he says, "I’m sorry I didn’t help you at the time, darling, I was just too shocked.”

“It’s okay.” You murmur, ignoring the what ifs vying for attention in the back of your mind.

There’s one odd thing about Seokjin’s story though, something you’ve never heard about happening between unknown soulmates before.

”You mentioned feeling a pull? What’s that about?"

You think Heejun mentioned how he felt drawn to Jaemin for a few weeks after they found each other the first time, like their soulbond was urging them to strengthen their newfound connection. But that was after. There was never a pull that lead them together in that library, it was only luck – coincidence.

“I’m not sure,” Seokjin admits. ”It was the first and last time felt anything like it.”

“I got that feeling too, that day at the charity event. I normally don’t involve myself in other people’s business, but the thought of not checking out what was going on made my heart ache.” Hoseok adds, a small frown on his face as he rubs his chest.

“Me too. I wasn’t supposed to be in that shared class with Y/n last semester. I had enough credits to drop it, but the thought of doing it made me feel really anxious. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack the one time I actually tried to withdraw from it.” Jungkook says, hesitant eyes flickering from you and Seokjin’s intertwined hands to your face.

“I never felt it, though.” You frown.

You would’ve known if you had, right? If they all had such strong reactions, then there’s no way you could’ve missed all the signs.

Seokjin hums, something contemplating crossing over his features as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. ”You’re not from around here, correct?”

Well, you’re definitely not from here, bumfuck nowhere in the middle of the woods. You bite back the snarky reply, knowing it won’t do you any good to voice it out loud. You’re sure Namjoon must’ve given them the rundown on everything he knows by now, especially with the extensive file he has access to, but since you’re trapped out here for god knows how long, you might as well humour Seokjin and play along.

“No. The city I grew up in is about two hours south by train.”

The three men all nod along like it’s new information, Seokjin even seeming a bit surprised. They would all make fine actors, you think.

“Why did you move here, then? If your friends and family were all back home.”

“The university is nice–”

Hoseok interrupts you with a tsk. ”The university in the next city over is miles better and you know it, sunshine.”

It is.

You even had the grades to be accepted there, if you had wanted to go.

“So? Why did you pick this specific university in this town?” Seokjin prompts, one eyebrow quirked.

You pause. Why did you pick this city to study in? Live in? It wasn’t the best option you had. Hell, the courses aren’t even that interesting compared to what’s offered at other universities. Heejun chose to join you after you had already made a decision, so it’s not like you can blame it on him, either.

“It … felt right.” You breathe.

That’s the only answer you have. There was just this feeling of rightness that washed over you when you settled on your current university, like this is where you were always supposed to be.

Seokjin looks pleased by your revelation, nodding his head as if to say there you go.

You feel yourself growing pale, heart racing and palms turning clammy as the truth slowly but surely sinks in. This entire time you had lived with the belief that the bond didn’t affect you, that there must have been a mistake – something you might be able to change. But this, this means that the pull had been there for you too, that it manifested itself with you first. You just didn’t know it.

None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t come here.

You stare down at the yarn in your lap, at the knots that have been untied and those that are still there. Maybe this was something you were never able to change. Perhaps Namjoon was right, that all of this was destined, and you would’ve ended up here no matter what choices you made.

You’re not sure what hurts most – the idea that fate handed you over to them, or that it was your own soul that betrayed you, tricked you, into this hell of a reality.

Inhaling deeply, you feel the crisp air rush down your throat, nestling deep into your lungs. You keep your face turned towards the weak rays of sunlight streaming through the balding trees, lips twitching at the faint warmth that caresses your face. This is the first time you’ve been outside in weeks and you’re going to use the time you have for all that it’s worth.

The sound of crunching leaves interrupts your moment of peace.

You open your eyes slowly, steeling yourself before you turn back to look at Jungkook. He’s been keeping his distance since you came outside, letting you have a few minutes to yourself. You’re not stupid enough to think that this is him trusting you, though. Jungkook has been tense ever since you stepped outside the cabin, body strung as if he’s only waiting for the moment he’ll have to jump into action to hunt you down.

Thankfully, you’re not dumb enough to believe that you’ll manage get away even if you do try. It’s no coincidence that it’s Jungkook accompanying you outside, it’s easy to tell from his physique alone that he’s likely the strongest and fastest out of all of them. There’s also no chance that Jungkook suddenly decided you bring you outside by himself, without the others being involved first. You knew from the moment Jungkook hesitantly approached you that this was a test.

A test for them to see if you can be trusted; to see if you’ve been broken enough to stay, or if you’ll attempt to run away.

It is tempting, now that you’re outside with the soft ground under your boots and the gentle wind brushing through your hair, but you know that playing the long game is the only thing that will truly get you out of here.

You hug your arms to your chest, pulling Jungkook’s padded jacket closer to your body to fend of the chill that’s started to cling to you. ”I’m getting cold, do you think we can walk for a bit?”

As it is, you’ve barely even moved away from the old house. He lead you out back, to the beginning of the open field behind the cabin, but you haven’t dared to venture much further without his permission. You want Jungkook to take the lead, to let him believe that he's the one in control even if you don’t trust a single bone in his body.

Jungkook pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, doe eyes flickering between you and the clearing nervously. He’s still standing a few feet behind you, just enough to give you the illusion of privacy despite the both of you knowing that you have none.

“We can walk to the tree and back.” He stumbles over the first word before he clears his throat and nods in the direction of the big oak tree in the middle of the clearing.

It’s not as far as you’d like, but you have a feeling it’s to make sure you don’t get too knowledgeable about your surroundings. Either way, you need to stretch your legs and move around to make sure your muscles work once you actually can escape, so the tree is better than nothing.

“Thank you.” You flash him a bright smile, a sense of ugly satisfaction curling in your gut at the way it makes Jungkook almost trip over his own feet.

You fall into step besides him once he closes the distance between you, allowing your arm to brush against his as you trudge through the withered grass and moss. The brief contact is enough to make Jungkook flustered, and even though you hate it, you know you have to keep initiating it in hopes that it'll break down his walls faster.

“The hyungs ..” Jungkook starts, his mouth pinching into a faint frown. ”The choices they made weren’t the right ones, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad people. I-I don’t like keeping you here but they – we – are scared of losing you, of you not giving us a chance if we let you go. They’re only trying to do what’s best for all of us, even if it doesn't seem like it right now.”

He sees the unconvinced look that passes over your face before you manage to school your features, the slight purse of your lips that tells him you’re not fully ready to accept the truth just yet. He continues still, voice filled with gentle mirth as he talks about the others.

“They’ve helped me a lot. The hyungs sort of took me under their wing the moment I met them. I-I, um, didn’t have the best childhood, my parents weren’t always k-kind, but the hyungs have always tried to make up for it – to make sure I never had to deal with that kind of hurt again. My s-stutter used to be much worse before, before they showed me what it felt like to be safe and happy.”

Your treacherous heart aches for him. You release a soft breath, letting go of the urge to take Jungkook into your arms with it. You keep your eyes on the pale blue sky, whispering out a simple, ”I’m sorry.”

“I-I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad for me.” Jungkook rushes to say.

”I don’t even know why I said it, I-I just … want you to know that deep down, they always mean well. When my parents cut me off, Seokjin hyung offered me a job even though business was too slow for an extra part-timer at the time. I hated working for hyung in the beginning. He practically forced me to, saying that exposure to people would help me overcome my shyness and s-stutter. I was always so anxious I couldn’t sleep the night before my shifts, worried s-sick that the customers would be mean and make fun of the way I talked. It was rough, but it helped. Hyung was always there to make sure it nothing bad happened. Seokjin hyung and the others have all taken care of me in their own ways, even if they may seem unconventional to others. The hyungs just care, so much, about the people they love. I-I really don’t know where I would be without them."

“I believe you.”

You don’t doubt that the others have taken good care of Jungkook, or that they all care for each other. You would have to be blind not to see that they’re all close friends, that they all love each other, regardless of the influence of the faint soulbond they share. They might mean well, they might think they’re doing the right thing, but that doesn’t excuse anything that has transpired in the last year.

You still hate them.

That won’t ever change.

“You do?” Jungkook’s doe eyes grow wide with surprise. His lips stretch into a happy grin when you nod, his soft curls bouncing against his cheek as his steps seem to get a little more pep in them.

You crane your head back as you reach the tree, looking up at the sun through the barren branches. You watch a couple of birds fly across the sky, spreading their wings as they dance with the wind, swooping and rising as it pleases them. Oh, how you wish you could join them. You’d be willing to give almost anything for a pair of wings to get yourself out of here. To fly away from the rotting earth under your feet and the heat of Jungkook’s gaze on your face.

You can see him toing at the fallen leaves out of the corner of your eye, his breath hitching every time he opens his mouth to say something, only to regret it and screw his lips shut immediately. He pauses, his chest rising and falling with unsure breaths, before he timidly admits, ”I-I think I might have been the one that helped Tae hyung send roses to your apartment.”

The suddenness catches you off guard. You turn to properly look at him, dumbfounded, as you wait for him to go on.

“I-I didn’t know it was you at the time! Hyung pulled me aside one night when we were all hanging out and asked me if I could help him deliver some flowers without Seokjin hyung knowing about it. Hyung looked so shy, so happy, when he mentioned he had found his soulmate and wanted to woo them properly. We never really talked about our marks – but Taehyung has always had the most trust in the soulmate system, he has always believed he would find his other half. So I-I was really touched that he wanted my help with something so special.”

“Tae hyung never gave me a name, just the address and the apartment number it should be delivered too. I-I didn’t know where you lived since I always left my letters in your locker, so I didn’t connect the dots until I saw him in Hoseok hyung’s shop. Back then, I wanted to respect hyung’s wishes and keep it a secret, he didn’t seem ready to share it with the whole group yet. He seemed particularly worried about Seokjin hyung, that it would affect him badly because his own soulmate had died–”

Jungkook looks like he’s bitten into something sour as the word leaves his tongue. He shakes his head, eyes rolling before he adds, “which obviously wasn’t true – but I understood his reasoning at the time. I regret not asking him more about it, though.”

You blink at him, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place. That is why Seokjin didn’t have any information about the roses, because Jungkook had done it off the books.

For the first time since you stepped outside, Jungkook adverts his gaze to the ground. He hangs his head, a deep furrow appearing between his brows as he stares down at the dying grass. Jungkook pouts, his lip beginning to wobble before he hurriedly pulls it between his teeth. The scrape of his teeth as he bites down on the soft flesh leaves a faint sting in your own; the cruel reminder of your bond causing you to clench your fists.

Jungkook sounds regretful, quiet, when he finally says, "I wish I hadn’t helped hyung cause you even more pain.”

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a brief moment to collect yourself. What are you supposed to say? It’s okay? Because it’s not. I forgive you? Because you don’t.

You turn on your heel, shoving your fists deep into your pockets to hide the way they tremble. ”You didn’t know.”

Jungkook lets out a wounded sound, something close to a hiccup, as he keeps his head bowed in apology.

“I’m still sorry, Y/n.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Remorse you can work with. If Jungkook is truly regretful of what he’s done, you should be able to use that to your advantage.

You swallow thickly, stepping closer to nudge his shoulder with your own. Jungkook’s dark eyes shine with guilt as he raises his head, face nothing short of distraught as he meets your gaze.

“Let’s go back, Jungkookie.” You give him a weak smile, the nickname foreign as it rolls off your tongue.

It has the intended effect though, as you watch Jungkook’s mouth fall open, a star struck expression taking over his features. You’ve been mentally prepping yourself for this moment for days, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. This is the first time you’ve reciprocated the same closeness, familiarity, that they’ve been suffocating you with ever since you got here. The fact that Jungkook is the first one to hear it is a big deal, one you hope will make the others jealous – miserable – as they hopelessly wait for their turn.

You take a step forward, waiting for Jungkook to snap out of his daze before you continue walking any further. The guilt on his face has softened into something sweeter, doe eyes sparkling, as he begins to lead you back to the cabin.

You can work with this, you think. Maybe if you continue to focus on Jungkook, on the remorse he carries and how eager he is for you forgiveness, you can manipulate him into letting you go. Maybe you can go out for a walk again, ask for some alone time now that he thinks you won’t run–

You squeak as you step on a patch of frozen mud, feet sliding out from underneath you. In the fraction of the second it takes for Jungkook to grab you, all you can think is; not again. He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as he drags you away from slippery patch. Your face is smushed against his padded jacket, your chests falling and rising in tandem from the scare.

You swear it’s like a flip has been switched ever since you got here, your clumsiness levels having gone from ten to a hundred. You were never this bad back in the city; but you also were never this caught up in your own thoughts with planning possible escape routes, either.

“I’m fine.” You blurt out before Jungkook can open his mouth to ask. "Thank you for catching me. Uh, again.”

Jungkook hugs you close, arms squeezing around your waist in reply before he leans back to look at you. The proximity makes you gulp, your throat suddenly painfully dry as you stare at him up-close. With his face so close to yours, you can’t help but notice the small mole beneath his lips, or how pink and glossy his mouth looks after he mindlessly wets it. The cold temperature outside has given his cheeks a healthy flush, adding even more charm to his already cute face.

Despite everything that has happened, you can’t deny the fact that Jungkook is handsome. Pretty - in fact.

Your heart tumbles in your chest as Jungkook takes a tiny step closer. You can barely even feel his hands anymore, the pressure on your waist so light you would think you were made of glass. It’s a stark contrast to how bone crushingly heavy his gaze feels. There’s something intense, yet nervous, in his eyes as they slowly roam over your face, almost like he’s carefully committing every detail to memory.

Your brain is screaming at you to step away, to run, as his face cautiously moves closer to yours, but you can’t seem to move, feet frozen to the cold ground. Even with the sun shining down at you, you swear you can make out stars in Jungkook’s dark eyes as he leans in. Heart racing, you tilt your head, eyelids swooping low as the air fogs up between you.

A particularly harsh breath of air escapes from your lips, the force strong enough to create a misty cloud that momentarily separates you from Jungkook as the condensation drifts upwards. The fleeting veil between you is enough to snap you back to your senses. The weirdly anticipatory fluttering of your heart screeches to a halt, immediately being replaced by a violent shiver of horror as the air clears.

“Jungkook.” Your voice sounds strangled even to your own ears.

Jungkook stops in his tracks as you call out his name, dazed eyes sweeping up from your lips to the strained expression on your face. You would think a cold bucket of water has been dumped over his head with how quickly he releases you, hands yanked away from your body as he stumbles back.

“Y/n, I–” He cuts himself off, face fluctuating between longing and sadness as he looks away. Jungkook shoves his shaking hands into his pockets, voice weak as he says. ”Let’s go back to the cabin.”

You nod, tightly gripping on to the sides of your jacket as you curl your arms protectively around your middle. You once again fall into step beside him, the distance between the two of you much greater than it was before. Your heart is still galloping away in your chest, your stomach tight with nerves. You should be disgusted, repulsed, that Jungkook tried to kiss you, but all you can feel is just – confusion. Jungkook wasn’t the only person that leaned in.

For a split second, no matter how brief it was, you wanted it too.

You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, keeping your gaze firmly locked onto the ground as the cabin’s shadow begins to loom over you. This isn’t good. It’s hard to weed out the cause of your moment of weakness; maybe it was cabin fever, or maybe your basic need for human affection latched on to the person that seemed the least threatening. Or, perhaps worst of all, maybe your soulbond is beginning to turn on you – beginning to accept them despite the circumstances forcing you together.

You cast one last glance up at the weak sun, hugging yourself tight. You whisper out a small prayer to the remaining leaves rustling in the trees, begging that all of this won’t cause you to lose yourself. That you won’t lose sight of the only goal you have.

Escape.

In hindsight, you should’ve known the pretending could only go on for so long.

You breathe in slowly through your nose, carefully scrubbing away any traces of dirt from the carrots in front of you. Cold water flows over your hands whenever you go to rinse one off but the sensation barely even registers, your mind all too aware of the eyes boring holes into your back.

You had jumped at the chance to help Yoongi in the kitchen – any low effort activity that still made it seem like you wanted to be near them were your favourite – but you hadn’t accounted for Taehyung and Jimin to join you as well.

It's unnerving, feeling their eyes following every minuscule movement you make as you follow Yoongi’s instructions. The tasks he gives you are superficial, washing vegetables and stirring pots, but there’s not much else for you to do when you’re not allowed near any knives. Still, regardless of how simple they are, you try to take your time doing them whenever you help Yoongi out.

Normally it’s just to buy yourself a few extra minutes of silence in the kitchen since the others tend to stay clear of it, but now, it’s the sinking feeling in your stomach that makes your movements drag.

Taehyung and Jimin are up to something. You’re very aware that they aren’t as gullible as the rest - that they’re on to what you’re trying to do.

You carefully place the shiny carrot on the cutting board besides you, listening to the steady chop chop chop of Yoongi’s knife as he dices it up for the stew he’s making. He’s muttering something under his breath, his dark brows knitted together in concentration as he stares down at the knife.

He never rushes you, you’ve found.

Regardless of the reason why – maybe he believes you’re being slow to spend more time with him or maybe he knows you need a break from the others some times – you know Yoongi doesn’t mind it. After all, it means he gets more alone time with you.

“Ah–” Yoongi pauses, knife hitting the cutting board with a dull thud. ”I forgot the new spices in the car! I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” You nod, feeling uneasy as you run another carrot under the slow stream of water.

You look over your shoulder, watching Yoongi step back from the counter, knife still in hand as he turns around to face Taehyung and Jimin. He points it in their direction, eyes narrowed as he drawls out a stern, ”Behave.”

Taehyung scoffs, childishly turning up his nose at Yoongi’s demand as he leans back in his chair.

“I’m offended, hyung. When have we not?” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Yoongi’s jaw locks, a frustrated rush of air leaving his nose. ”Like I said, I’ll be right back.” He shakes his head as he goes, throwing the pair another pointed glare before he exits the kitchen.

The moment Yoongi steps out the door; Taehyung and Jimin’s eyes seem to snap to each other like magnets. It’s nothing more than a quick glance, but even just that brief contact carries enough weight to make the alarms in your head blare.

You whip your head back to the sink, hoping they didn’t notice you watching them. Sending out a silent wish for Yoongi to return within the next ten seconds, you resume cleaning the vegetables in front of you, praying the pair will leave you be if you look busy enough.

Only a slow second passes before Jimin’s airy voice calls out to you from the kitchen table.

“Baby, is Yoongi hyung working you too hard? You know you can just relax and let us take care of things, right?”

You stiffen at the question, muscles locking up under the wave of tension that grips your body. Forcing your hands to keep moving, you let out a strained answer in return. ”I-I don’t mind. I like helping out.”

“Ah. I see.”

You can't be sure, not with your back turned and his expression hidden from view, but you swear for a split second that Jimin sounded jealous.

“So, you’re enjoying your time here, then?” He asks, voice deceptively calm.

Nervous, you wet your lips, scrubbing harder at the squeaky clean carrot in your hand. What game is he playing?

“Of course.” You say, proud of the way your voice doesn’t falter.

Jimin hums. The sound is accompanied by slow rhythmic taps against the kitchen table, almost as if he's unknowingly thrumming his fingers as he thinks. Except – the motion is too controlled, too deliberate.

He’s trying to set you on edge.

“There’s nothing you’d want to change? You like being here with us?”

It’s a trap, you know it is, but how can you do anything else besides walk right into it? You can’t tell Jimin the truth. Not when you’ve already come this far.

Jimin must revel in the knowledge that he’s got you cornered.

You clutch the edge of the sink as a chair screeches behind you, soft footsteps padding across the floor until you can feel someone hovering behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut as Taehyung’s familiar cologne invades your nose. You can’t focus with him, who’s practically danger personified, standing so close.

What’s taking Yoongi so long?

Gritting your teeth, you slowly place the clean carrot on Yoongi’s cutting board, praying Taehyung doesn’t notice the way your hand trembles. Jimin asked you a question, but you can’t seem to recall what it was, his voice all muddled together in your head. Flustered, the only thing you can seem to focus on are the soft puffs of air hitting your hair, Taehyung quite literally breathing down your neck. You must take too long because you suddenly find yourself being spun around, the world moving too fast until you find yourself caged between Taehyung’s arms, pressed against the counter.

You jerk back, surprised, heart in your throat as Taehyung’s intense eyes stare you down.

“Answer Jiminie's question, babe.”

You hold his gaze, your skin crawling as you muster up a shaky smile.

“Y-Yes. I didn’t see it at first but I understand it now, why you all did it.” The words are painful to push out, your tongue hesitating to curve around your blatant lies. ”I’m h-happy here – with you.”

Jimin makes a delighted sound, but it’s just as fake as the bravado on your face.

“Are you now? That’s great, baby. I guess none of us are making you uncomfortable, then? We haven’t been ah, overstepping, any boundaries?”

“Of course not.”

Taehyung cocks his head, face flat as he asks. ”So you don’t like Jungkook and Yoongi better than the rest of us?”

“What?” You breathe, taken aback.

You can’t believe your plan might have actually worked.

It’s been a few days since your outing with Jungkook and you’ve been nervously waiting for one of them to bring it up. There’s no way they didn’t wring him out for details afterwards. Maybe they haven’t caught on what you’ve been doing at all, too busy stewing in their jealousy of the others?

“You seem to have grown … close, lately.” Taehyung frowns. ”So, do you? Like them more than us?”

You hate them all equally.

“No.” You’re quick to shake your head. The longer you manage to convince them you care for all of them whilst giving a few special treatment, the better. It’s bound to cause some friction between them, no matter how close they are.

Taehyung lights up, his boxy smile coming in at full force at your rebuttal.

A cough from Jimin is all it takes for it to disappear.

A shiver racks down your spine as you watch the light dim just as quickly as it arrived, his grin faltering as suspicion seems to creep in. He inches closer, scrutinizing your face as he asks, ”Y/n, do you love us?”

“I–” You swallow thickly.

You assumed they would ask at some point but not right now. Not when you’re already struggling to keep your panic at bay and your head on straight. You feel like you’re walking on a tightrope, the edges fraying at both sides.

Still, you manage to force out a shaky, ”I’m your soulmate, how can I not?”

That seems to be enough to placate him, Taehyung’s smile returning once again. This time though, his lips stretch into something more sinister than kind. It makes you realize your mistake a little too late – you never should have worded it as a challenge.

“Yeah?” Taehyung leans in, eyebrows quirking as his gaze dips down to your lips. ”Prove it then.”

You freeze as Taehyung’s hands find your waist, long fingers holding you firmly in place. Your mind races as his face draws closer and closer, Taehyung darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

They tricked, lured you, right into this. You never had the upper hand. It seems that the only person who’s been played is you.

Your eyes widen in alarm as his flutter closed, gaze darting around wildly as you look for a way to escape. There’s no natural way for you to duck away from Taehyung, no lies that will make sense. They’ve caught you and you have no doubt they’ll tattle to the others if you don’t kiss him.

The rational part of your brain is yelling at you to just do it! – you’ve come too far to throw all that progress away over a simple kiss. But the rest of you aches, mourns, the idea. To give yourself away so easily to someone you hate so deeply. Taehyung may see someone he loves, someone he thinks he knows; but all you can see as you look at his face is anxiety and terror; your sanity slipping through your fingers like sand.

He’s so close, brows starting to furrow in confusion as he never meets your lips, unaware of how you’ve been pulling back to keep your distance. Your neck is starting to cramp from the odd angle, hands shaking by your sides as Taehyung’s sweater brushes against them.

He lets out an annoyed breath, the fingers on your waist tightening as if he’s going to pull you against his chest to get you closer.

You can’t. You can’t, you can’t–

Your hands fly out, pushing Taehyung away. You feel cracked open, panicked, the fear and anger you’ve been suppressing ever since you woke up here spilling out and engulfing you from head to toe.

The force causes Taehyung to stumble back, shocked, until he hits the edge of the kitchen table. He blinks at you like he doesn’t understand what’s going on, like he doesn’t know what he just tried to do. He raises a hand as if he’s going to reach out for you, come back, despite your rejection.

They’ll never change.

They’ll never understand.

A sickening wave of terror crashes over you, mixing with the panic as it builds and builds and builds– until you finally, simply – break.

“Do not touch me.” You let out a shrill scream, a note of hysteria colouring your voice. ”How could I ever love you, when this is how you treat me? When you’ve ruined my life?”

Straightening up, you step away from the counter, pulse roaring in your ears as you stare Taehyung down. "The thought makes me sick. Our soulbond is a mistake, a cruel joke, and I don’t accept it. I’d rather die than fall in love with the likes of you – any of you."

Taehyung looks stricken. He must’ve known you weren’t completely truthful if he decided to scheme with Jimin, and yet, he clearly didn’t quite grasp just how vehemently you actually hate him – them. Underneath the panic, there’s a sick sense of satisfaction curling in your gut as Taehyung’s throat keeps bobbing, his dark eyes welling up under your hard glare.

A heavy silence settles over the kitchen as your voice tapers off. Yoongi’s soup has begun to boil and sputter, but you can barely hear it over your own ragged breaths. The burst of bravery you had is already dying off, leaving you trembling in place as it dawns on you just how badly you’ve fucked up.

You startle as Jimin’s low whistle fills the air.

“There she is.”

You jerk your head in his direction, finding Jimin languidly leaning back in a chair, seemingly unaffected by everything you just hurtled at them. You can detect a hint of annoyance, like he’s angry he was proven right, but the smirk pulling at his mouth speaks louder. Jimin looks amused, excited, that you finally showed your true colours.

“What?” You seethe.

“I knew it.” Jimin’s gaze feels like tiny knives, the coldness in them a terrible juxtaposition to the growing smile on his face. ”You’re not broken in at all, are you, baby?”

Bile shoots up your throat so fast you’re surprised you manage to not throw up. You clench you teeth, hands shaking with rage by your sides.

You want to punch him so, so badly.

Even though you know you’ll only end up hurting yourself in the process, you still find yourself moving forward, vision zeroed in on Jimin's gloating expression.

You’ve only taken a few steps when Yoongi rushes back into the room, Hoseok hot on his heels. They both look you up and down, checking for any visible injuries, before they take in the fury on your face.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks. His concern morphs into anger as he looks from you to Jimin and Taehyung, their wildly different expressions painting quite the story.

You have enough wits left to know that you need to leave before Jimin opens his mouth. Yoongi may be annoyed with him now for upsetting you, but you’re sure that’ll change once he hears what you just threw in their faces. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this is going to turn out very bad for you.

You take your chance as Hoseok hisses a low 'Park Jimin’ under his breath, sidestepping Yoongi as he stalks over to Jimin’s chair.

Bolting out of the room, you manage to catch Yoongi so off guard that he doesn’t have time to stop you, and Hoseok is too far away to grab you even if he wanted to. You run past Seokjin in the hallway, surprise blooming on his face as you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Panicked, you grab the desk chair, propping it under the door handle to hold it shut. You have no key, nothing to lock it with, so you hurriedly shove whatever furniture you can up to the door, creating a makeshift barricade you know won’t hold them back for very long once they hear the full story from Jimin.

You fist your hair, eyes burning with tears as you pace around the room. You flinch at the loud yelling carrying all the way from the kitchen, six voices rising and falling as they argue heatedly. The door muffles the sounds, but you can still hear your name being shouted back and fourth, over and over again.

Your chest feels so tight you can barely breathe, lungs refusing to expand as terror clings to your body like a second skin. Everything you worked for over the last month was all for nothing, there’s no way they’ll ever trust you after this. You stumble forward, gripping the edge of the bed to steady yourself. There’s no doubt in your mind that they'll do something more drastic to feed their fantasies, that they’ll chain you up somewhere and lose themselves so deep in their delusions that their last bits of sanity will slip away if it means they’ll get to have you.

“No, no, no…” You let out a muffled cry, silently sobbing into your hand as you keep pacing around the room, desperate to find anything that might help you.

You nearly collapse to the floor when you notice something shiny poking out from under your bed, the metal gleaming in the muted light. The bookmark. It must’ve fallen out when you pushed your bedside table over to the door.

Rushing over to snatch it up, you weigh the cool surface in your hand as you spin around to face the window.

You’ve already doomed yourself by blowing up at Jimin.

There’s nothing left for you to lose.

Heart in your throat, you hurry over to the window. You find the small patch you have left, using all the force you can muster to quickly chip away the last of the paint sealing it shut. You dig it in, gritting your jaw as your palm aches with every hit. The yelling in the kitchen hasn’t seized so they must be too engrossed in their arguing to notice the faint pain.

You drop the bookmark to the floor as the last touch of dried paint is gone, gripping the ledge of the window as you start pushing upwards.

It’s not moving.

“Come on.” You grunt, exhaling harshly through your nose as your arms begin to burn under the strain.

You step back, giving your muscles a moment of rest before you resume your grip, putting all your remaining strength into one final push. You’re not sure what does it, maybe it's your adrenaline giving you one last boost, or maybe the universe hears your whispered please against the glass, but the window groans – and opens.

You blink at the fresh air that rushes in, in disbelief that it actually worked. You can get out of here.

You can run.

Wasting no time, you throw a leg out of the window, twisting around to grip the ledge as you carefully lower yourself to the ground. The cabin is only slightly raised from the ground but this isn’t the time to be hasty. Not when you can taste freedom in the crisp autumn air, the dark woods around you welcoming you in with barren branches. If you hurt yourself now, it’s game over.

You wince as your feet reach the freezing ground, the cold seeping right through your woollen socks. You hold your breath, sticking close to the wall and hunching down whenever you pass by a window. You’re going in the opposite direction of the kitchen, but you can’t take any chances.

It’s only when you’ve peeked around the edge of the house, making sure the coast is clear, that you sprint directly for the woods surrounding you.

You hit it at an angle, making sure you won’t be seen from the front of the house while still keeping yourself somewhat parallel to the dirt road you noticed before. It’s too risky to use it, your recapture almost a certain thing if you do. There’s a greater chance of shaking them off under the covers of low branches and fallen trees, so you stick to the dark woods, knowing it’s your ticket out.

You duck under a branch, breath fogging up the air in front of you as you run. Everything aches and burns, but you push through it with clenched teeth, ignoring the taste of blood in your mouth. Being held in the cabin for a month has ruined your stamina, your body protesting the intense movement more than normal but your flight instinct is enough to keep you on your feet. You can barely feel them underneath you; the wet mud coating your socks has chilled you to the bone.

Wheezing, you push a thorny bush out of your way, not even registering the deep cuts they leave on your hands. The pain doesn’t matter. You’d sacrifice a limb if it meant you would get away from them.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, but it’s not far enough. Not when you can still make out the faint, panicked screams of your name echoing through the night.

Their calls makes your stomach twist in fear, a terrible reminder of what awaits you if they catch up with you. They must know what direction you’re heading in by now, but you intend to use your head start for what it’s worth. You’re going to let the adrenaline pumping through your veins take you as far as you can go; until your body collapses, or you’re somewhere safe. Whichever comes first.

It feels like you’ve run for an eternity through the woods by the time you see gravel turning into concrete.

You halt by the tree line, clinging on to a low branch as you gasp for air. Your lungs are burning, collapsing, and the air you gulp down stings with every breath. You’re so tired you can barely stand anymore, and yet, you know you need to keep moving. You need to reach the small cluster of lights twinkling far, far away in the distance.

You press your forehead against the cold bark, hoping the dark spots clouding your vision will settle down if you can only catch your breath. Startled, you wince as something light floods through your eyelids, gaze snapping open to find headlights illuminating the dark roads in front of you.

You sway on your feet, staring at the car driving towards you in utter shock. It’s coming from the direction of the city, which means it can’t be them.

You’re saved.

You stumble into the road, waving your hands desperately as you yell for the car to stop, stop, stop, please stop!

The driver hits the breaks hard, the harsh headlights blinding you as the tires screech against the road. You raise a hand, shielding your eyes from the bright lights. The driver’s startled scream is muffled by the car, the vehicle groaning as it’s forced to come to an abrupt stop a few feet away.

You squint as the driver’s door is flung open, the outline of a man scrambling out. He grips the edge of the door, chest heaving with what you assume is quick breaths from the near miss he just had. The apology for scaring him is on the tip of your tongue, but before you can say anything, the man releases a harsh exhale into the night, the car lights illuminating his breath as it drifts upwards.

“Y/n?"

Your heart promptly drops to your stomach.

Namjoon.

He looms over the car as he shuts the door, the soft click loud as a gunshot in the quiet air.

It can’t be, he – he left yesterday. You allowed him to hug you for far longer than you liked, all because he was supposed to be gone for two days. Not one. Namjoon wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the cabin today. It didn’t even graze your mind that the driver could be him – that fate could be so cruel to lead you right back to them.

You slowly lower your hand, a new surge of panic building inside of you.

You can run, but you’re tired, and Namjoon is not. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll catch you before you even make it off the road. It’s not like you can knock him out and steal the car either, you wouldn’t have been able to overpower him even if you were freshly rested. He’ll drag you back to that cabin kicking and screaming, or – you have one last thing you can try.

Dread weighs you down as you rush forward, making every step feel slow and sluggish, wrong, as you propel yourself right into Namjoon’s arms.

“Namjoon,” You choke, clawing the back of his coat as you press yourself closer, tighter. ”Please – please, take me away from here. I only want to be with y-you, not the others. Don’t make me go back, please.”

“Darling,” Namjoon breathes, utterly overwhelmed. The strong arms wrapping around your back feel like steel bars, caging you against his chest, sealing your fate. ”I don’t understand, Y/n, what–"

“I need you. Only you.”

You just need him to accept, to take you away. He knows the others, knows where they’ll look first and what they’ll do, and once you’re sure you’re safe from them, you’ll figure out a way to escape from Namjoon too.

You flinch at the sound of an incoming call connecting to the car’s speakers, the volume loud even through closed doors. Pulling back, you twist your head just enough to glance at the name displayed across the media system.

JIMIN.

The call disconnects when it isn’t picked up, and your blood runs cold as another one immediately comes in, Hoseok’s name replacing Jimin’s.

They surely can’t know that you’re with Namjoon right now, they’re probably calling to let him know you’re gone, but it only ramps up your nerves, lighting another spark on the fuse that’s already burning up too fast.

Namjoon is staring at the same spot you are, expression tight. The furrow between his brows grows deeper the more he thinks, and you need him to not to that. You need him to trust you. Forget the rest.

“Namjoon,” You whisper sweetly, smiling through the tremor in your voice. You reach up to cup his face, turning his full attention back to you with an icy caress. His skin feels burning hot against you chilled skin, a low buzz spreading from the tips of your fingers all the way up your arm the longer you touch him.

Namjoon looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock at your willing affection. Everything about him is tense and unsure, but he still leans into your palm, seeking comfort in your touch.

“The others ... they can’t c-care for me the same way that you do. You’re the only soulmate I need, the only one I want. Won’t you please take me away? I really l-like you.”

You let your voice grow softer and softer the closer you lean in, your last words practically whispered into his lips. Namjoon shivers, his dark eyes turning hazy at the close proximity, at how his dreams are so close to coming true.

Nausea swirls in your stomach as his hot breath spills across your mouth, your heart thundering in your chest. Everything just feels so numb, frozen; your emotions too frayed and exhausted to act up, and your body too chilled to move. Still, you use the shaking hand behind Namjoon’s back to pull him closer, your iced lips clumsily grazing the side of his mouth.

This is it, you think as Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed and his breath hitches, you have him.

You just need a little more, just one proper kiss to convince him and then your escape is secured.

You’re just about to inch off the ground to make sure you find his lips when something pained flashes across Namjoon’s face, and he leans back, out of reach.

Confused, you watch as he releases a deep sigh, turning his head to gaze up at the night sky. He watches it for a second, seemingly finding whatever answer he was reaching for, and looks back at you.

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Namjoon asks, his dark eyes brimming with hurt.

“W-what? No!” You scramble to pull him close, both hands tugging on the lapel of his coat, but Namjoon doesn’t budge.

“I want to believe you but I can’t, darling.” He shakes his head. ”I have to bring you back.”

“I can’t! Please, I can’t go back, this isn’t what I want–” You plead, desperate, as you try to push away from Namjoon’s chest.

He simply tightens his grip in response, pulling you flush against him until you can feel his heart racing alongside your own. He shushes any attempts of begging, rocking you back and forth as you heave in his arms.

"I would love to whisk you away and keep you all to myself, but it wouldn’t be fair to the others, Y/n. You’re their soulmate, too.”

Namjoon’s voice sounds murky and muffled, insignificant, in comparison to the terror gripping your body.

You can’t go back.

Whatever it is they have in store for you, you’d rather die than experience it.

“What about me?!” You sob, hot tears burning down your cheeks as you weakly hit Namjoon’s chest. ”How is any of this fair to me?”

Namjoon pauses, thinks, before he rests his head on top of yours; nodding into your hair as he says, ”It’s not."

“It’s not fair to you, but this is the best we can do. We’re trying, Y/n, and it's about time you start doing that too.”

Something in you shatters.

Your heart, you think. Maybe your mind.

They don’t care. No matter what you do or what you say, if it doesn’t match the reality they’ve made up in their heads, they won’t care.

You’re on your own. A scared little lamb clever enough to escape the slaughterhouse, but not smart enough to avoid the wolf. And now it’s bringing you back to be eaten, torn apart, by his whole pack.

Your body can’t handle the myriad of emotions that crash over you all at once. You slump in Namjoon’s arms, legs giving out underneath you. He holds you close, murmuring something you can’t make out as you stare up at the night sky with glossy, unseeing eyes.

You’re just so tired.

The past year has been one big trauma, one you never processed, and now, you got a taste of freedom only for it to be crushed under the tires of Namjoon’s car.

You’re exhausted.

Your vision tilts as you’re lifted of the ground, your numb feet barely feeling the ground leaving them.

You’re cold.

The night sky grows darker and darker, swallowing up the stars one by one as you’re carried around the side of the car. The darkness fills your sight until it’s the only thing you can see, a blast of warm air engulfing your body as a door clicks open.

A low apology is whispered into the car. Dry lips press against your forehead.

You give up.

a/n: please consider supporting me by buying me a ko-fi! 💖

wooo lots of things happened in this one! what do you think about y/n’s chat with seokjin? her walk with jungkook? what vmin was trying to pull in the kitchen? did you think namjoon was going to show up and take her back? let me know, i’m eager to hear your thoughts!!

you know the drill - everything is unbetaed so please excuse any mistakes!

stream indigo and wish seokjin a happy b-day!!

#bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #ot7 x reader #bts au #yandere kpop #bts soulmate au #yandere x reader

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