Moonlight Sanctuary | OT7

Moonlight Sanctuary | OT7

Pair: Werewolf OT7 x F Reader 

Summary: In a chase, you find a cottage in the midst of the woods. Barging in, you found seven men at your aid and you never expected things to turn out the way it did. But you were forever grateful for how it did.

Genre: Fluff, werewolf au, human reader

Chapter Warnings: Violence, abuse

You aren’t alone. If you ever need a helping hand, our fellow social services, friends, and family will always be there. If anybody is going to be insensitive on this topic on my blog, you will be blocked. Borahae💜 

WC: 2297

The moon hung low in the night sky as you ran in the opposite direction of your house. Well, your brother’s house. You had never considered it a home the moment things took a drastic turn after your parent’s death. A home is a place where one feels safe and secure but this is… this was no home. 

You had no sense of direction as you blasted through thick foliage and wet mud. The sky was dark and thunder boomed when you left but now it was pouring. Drenched from head to toe, you felt your anxiety rise as the sky darkened and your lungs collapsed. You paused at the foot of a tree, bending down to catch your breath. You had no idea where you were going. All you knew was that you needed to run. 

Run. Run. Run or they will catch you again. 

The air was still with your heavy breathing and loud splatters of rain when you heard rustling sounds. Suddenly blinded by the onslaught of light, you made out the rough shape of your bulky brother. Fearing for your life, you quickly stumbled up and ran again. You didn’t dare look back but you dared to look up. 

The moon was shining bright tonight, despite the darkness that was chasing you. It casted an ethereal glow over the dense forest and if you tilted your head just right, you could see little rainbows in the making. You ran through the trees, heart pounding against your chest. You didn’t know how far or how close you were to your brother and his gang. At the same time, you didn’t know where the fuck you were. You could just imagine being eaten up by some sort of nocturnal animal in here. 

“BITCH! Come back here! Who said you could run away, huh?”

You tried to pump your legs harder - to give you more strength. But you found yourself short of any sort of energy. You didn’t have dinner and it was during your break did you sneak past the back door and run away from them, hastily slipping on your clothes for some decency. You carried nothing with you - just you, underwear, and clothes - which is essentially whatever you were wearing. 

“Ey! I swear you’re going to get it from me when we catch you! FUCK, you’re done!”

The sound of your own harsh breathing drowned out the haunting echoes of your abusive brother’s threats. For years, you endured his cruelty,  but tonight - tonight you had enough. He sold your body. Sold your body to his friends. You had sobbed and begged with every last shred of dignity you had but they never listened. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew you couldn’t stay there any longer. 

You stumbled through the woods on clumsy feet, the darkness of the foliage seemed to close in around you. You tried to keep your anxiety at bay, knowing it would do you more harm than good if you started to panic. Branches clawed at the exposed skin of your feet, the ground beneath the flimsy slippers you hastily wore was uneven and treacherous the deeper you went. Fear gnawed at your insides and despair threatened to overtake you. Breathing harshly, you tried to keep yourself calm. 

Just as you thought that all hope was lost and you would have to be running forever or be caught, your attention focused on the soft glow of light emitting from a cottage house. Without thinking, you ran towards it and pulled against the handle, trying every one until you found an open door and slammed it shut behind you. 

Sliding onto the floor, you placed your head between your legs, breathing through your mouth. You were tired and bruised. You heard before you saw someone stand in front of you, shadow covering half of your hunched over body. Your breath caught as you slowly took in the sight before you. You were the centre of their attention, their eyes reflecting the silver light of the moon. You were sure you weren’t breathing. THese were the folklore of your little village - stories passed down by the elders from generation to generation. 

Werewolves. 

Nobody believed that there were such mystical beings living amongst you. But you were certain that they were exactly what you believed. These seven men that surrounded you brought around them an aura of power and grace. 

You could easily tell by the tall and commanding figure to your left that that was the leader of the pack. He stepped forward, gait slow and steady, approaching you as if you were a scared prey. But you were quite the opposite. As you looked at each of them, they surveyed you quietly. Looking at each of them in their eyes, you felt a connection deep in your blood - a spark of recognition of what belongs. 

“Are you in danger?” he asked, voice low and soothing. 

You nodded, voice trembling as you replied, “My - my brother, he and his friends, they - they -”

The door was suddenly banged open as you stumbled into the man’s hold. You felt a sense of protection and comfort you had never known when you were with them. They surrounded you again, this time, as a protection barrier between you and your brother. 

You curled deeper into yourself. 

Without hesitation, a man grabbed your cheeks and forced you to look at his smiling eyes. “Hey! My name is Jimin! What’s yours?”

“Y/N, come here now.” Your brother commanded. Shivering in your spot against Jimin’s body, you shook your head and rejected him. You didn’t want to. 

“Come here now or you will regret it.” You shook your head. You didn’t want to go back to the life you once had. If it was considered life. 

“Come here and I won’t kill these ‘men’. They are vicious monsters, you know that.”

Your head turned when you heard your name being called. “You are safe here. We won’t let anyone hurt you now.” You nodded and turned away from your brother, clinging onto Jimin’s shirt tightly. 

“It’s funny how you claim to care for your sister when you sold her off. It is funny how you think you would be able to hurt us.” The man with cat-like eyes formed into slits. He certainly looked more like a cat than a wolf.

“HAH!” Your brother laughed maniacally. “You are a bunch of monsters. Werewolves? Ridiculous! You are not wolves nor are you humans. Monsters is an appropriate word to use for paws.”

“Shall we let her choose then?” The man with a fluffy head of hair said. 

The silence that followed was deafening. The tension in the air was at its peak and both sides were ready for an attack. 

“Come now, Y/N. Let’s go home, I’ll get you some ice cream if you cooperate now.” Your brother held his hand out, palm facing up - placating. He didn’t want to lose his face in front of his friends and males who didn’t even know you. 

But you refused. Your head went to Jimin’s neck as you stood up, trying to hook a leg onto his waist. 

Keyword: trying. 

You were just too short for him. 

The man with fluffy hair chuckled lowly at your attempts. Quickly hooking a hand under your thighs, he lifted you up onto Jimin’s hip. As he left, going back to his spot, your hand shot out to hold him in place, accidentally pulling against his hair instead. Your hand quickly retracted and your head shot up. 

“I -”

He was quick to soothe you, one hand patting your thigh in a soothing rhythm while the other went to your untamed hair, softly stroking the back of your head. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, okay? You can do whatever you want with me.” You hesitantly pulled against the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Stay? Please?”

He nodded. “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t dare go anywhere.”

The rest of the males reformed themselves to ensure that the three of you in the centre were protected. 

“I think it is clear what her choice is. Now leave.” The pack leader commanded, voice strong with power. You saw your brother’s friend pull him along. 

“Fine! Die with these mutts around you, whore!”

The cat-wolf lunged for your brother when the pack leader pulled him back. 

The males remained in the formation only when they were certain your brother was far enough and they couldn’t smell him from the distance anymore. Only then did they relax their posture, slowly turning towards you with worried eyes. You were no longer shaking in Jimin and the fluffy hair’s hold but your scent was still sour with fear. 

They cautiously moved up the stairs to the living room where they sat down at the sofa. You turned your head to look at them. All seven males were foreign to you - as foreign as the way they made you feel safe and protected. 

“Should we… say names?” The man with a whole sleeve of tattoos asked, eyes big and filled with curiosity - just like a bunny’s, you thought. 

“I’m Namjoon.” The pack leader started. 

“Yoongi.” You finally had a name for the cat-wolf.

“Taehyung.” The fluffy head of hair appeared into your view again. “But I give you special permission to call me TaeTae!”

 You nodded. 

“I’m Seokjin but just Jin is okay, yeah?”

“Me! Me!” The bunny man hopped up. “I’m Jungkookie!”

“You can call me Hobi!” 

Oh that man was filled with sunshine, you could clearly see. 

“And I’m Jimin but you already know that, little one.”

You nodded. 

“Would you like to ask us anything?”

You shook your head then nodded again, pointing to Yoongi. “Cat-wolf. Cat. Meow-Meow.”

Jungkook burst out laughing from your left, igniting a round of laughter that filled the room and lifted the heavy atmosphere. 

“For you, you can call me whatever you want, darling.” Yoongi smiled, gums out as he looked at you with adoration. 

In that moment, you felt their strength and loyalty, their offering to you of a sanctuary - a refuge from the darkness you fought so hard from. From those that have haunted your life for so long. 

As time passed, you became part of their pack - a human amongst werewolves. They were patient in teaching you their traditions and customs, their code of honour and their ways. You learned that they were the protectors of the forest, guardians of the vulnerable, and that they are the core value of the balance of nature itself. 

Namjoon, with his kind eyes and strong presence, quickly became a source of your strength and guidance for you. His knowledge and wisdom never failed to keep you entertained. Although clumsy, this man was the foundation of his pack. 

Seokjin, with his unseriousness and constant care, he helped heal the wounds that your brother and his friends had inflicted upon you. He kept you steady as you grew, always ensuring to pull you up when you got down but bringing you down when you were too high up.

Yoongi, the car-wolf, with his gentle hands and calm nature became another one of your rocks. He never failed to teach you something new that day and he most certainly cooked one of the best foods you have ever tasted - rivalling Seokjin’s. 

Hobi, with his everlasting laughter and sunshine, was an easy person to be around as you healed from your wounds. He never fails to make you laugh. With him around, there was never a dull moment. 

Jimin, with his soft and calming nature, he unintentionally healed both your emotional and mental wounds. While Seokjin cared for your physical wounds, Jimin was always a talking buddy that helped you through understanding yourself and your worth. 

TaeTae, with his outgoing mischievous nature, the both of you were constantly creating something to be cleaned up. Hand-in-hand with Jungkookie, the three of you liked to run out and about, being everywhere. 

Jungkookie, with his curiosity and strength, the both of you were always causing mischief for the others. Like partners-in-crime, the both of you would be curious about everything and anything, so the both of you would always take it upon yourselves to figure out the answers. 

But you have also come to realise that the entire pack was more than just a pack - they were a family. Each of them had their own unique qualities and were a force to be reckoned with. Today was a full moon and under the light of the glowing orb, you discovered a love and acceptance that you had never known. Your past, with all its pain and suffering, seems to fade into the background when you are with them. Embracing the new chapter of your life, you ran forward with them, putting your full trust in the seven males you had learned to understand. 

With your heart and spirit soaring, you felt the exhilaration of the transformation, the wind against your fur, and the pure joy of being truly free. In these moments, you knew you had found your place - a home amongst those who have shown you the power of love, trust, and transformation. 

As you looked up the the moon, you couldn’t help but feel a huge wave of gratitude. The moon led you here today - to the sanctuary - a place where you were no longer a victim but a survivor; that you were no longer alone but in a place filled with love and acceptance. 

As you howled at the moon and cuddled amongst your pack, you came to realise that sometimes, safety and love are found in the most unexpected places. For instance, in a moonlit sanctuary of a werewolf pack that had become your everlasting family. 

𝐀 𝐏 𝐑 𝐈 𝐂 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 — 𝟏

banner by @itaeewon 🌹

pairing. min yoongi x female reader (oc)

genre. arranged marriage au, angst, fluff, eventual smut

w. mention of parent death,overthinking ; anxiety, smoking, yoongi falls sick; he's confused; fluff?

wc. 10k 🤕

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The voices in his head refuse to shut up.

He's driving back home, but his wish to lie in bed has long faded. A bitter taste lies on his tongue for now, constantly feeling the bile rise up to his throat and making him want to puke out.

The wind flushing against his skin is freezing cold; but he doesn't think of the cold or the autumn wind now. Neither the smell of stir fried Kimchi nor the smell of fried chicken or the snacks and meals, for he's passing through the streets of Seoul right now, a starless, dark night.

But the smell of fried Kimchi pancakes seems to have paused his flurry of thoughts, if anything, the smell: the smell itself provides a small comfort to him. If it would've been some other day, he thinks, Jeongguk might've dragged him here and made him eat till they belched and slept with full, happy stomachs. It wasn't often that he used to visit the streets or pass by them; and neither was it often when he used to eat out. But if by any chance it'd be an outing, or a random pass-by the streets, with Jeongguk , he'd know that he's not gonna return home with an empty stomach.

That kid had a bottomless appetite and seeing how enthusiastic he was about his food made Yoongi feel full.

Yeah, he was invited to dinner meetings all the time, but the familiarity of a homely place like such where one didn't have to pretend, to be prideful or maintain fine airs about them, or couldn't burp or sigh at the taste of the delicious food, was not it. Or could wipe your runny nose at the spicy seasoning floating through your taste buds. Something as mundane as chewing felt like a sin in such places.

They're meant to be just for business. Nothing else.

But here, you can curse and swear with soju running raw in your blood, enjoy the local cuisine market on screen with elderly uncles; letting yourself free without any worries for tomorrow. A place where you weren't monitored all the time; or were expected to behave; a place like such, Yoongi realized, he cannot recall if he had recently visited.

A very strange sense of nostalgia washes over him.

A very weird one. He didn't know if such nostalgia was supposed to feel this intense, not when he has memories floating in front of his eyes.

He almost feels like he's seeing everything in front of him. He doesn't realize his pupils are shaking wildly because it's all the memories which are flooding in his system, the memories which he has already buried within the cobwebs of a dungeon in his heart and never wants to pull them out. His throat feels dry, and even a huge gulp of saliva doesn't help.

It's funny how tight situations can have variations too.

He feels the taste fresh in his mind, his mouth. The taste of flesh against his own mouth, rough and inexperienced, hot and needy. So hot, so raw, the breath and the bitterness of coffee his own tastebuds tasted as his warm muscle sneaked into the cavern, wet and warm, full of smokey eagerness: he had wished the night never to stop.

He did not want the night to break to dawn.

His first kiss.

Funny, because the younger him had drowned in the feeling, and the feelings, the raw actions were seemingly reciprocated with such urgency, that his own hands were restless, roaming all over where they could reach the soft, warm flesh,and how he wanted that time never to end. His veins were caught in a fire he burnt himself in, a burn which has left scars forever in their wake.

Once started, everything has its end destined in the pathway.

Daegu. A similar, very similar fast food street. In between the dark, damp walls where the rotten leftovers were left to the scavengers,were possibly dumped, the smell so pungent and foul, a place so dimly lit, but the flames inside his heart were bright enough to burn the whole place.

He hadn't thought of how terrible the place was, or how it grossed him out now. The memory of the place is hazy, just as fragments of burnt paper, but the feelings still coursed through his veins like hot iron. And so the blurred lights of the stalls merge with his sight now to his memory, and suddenly, it stops.

The nostalgia felt like the dust flying in a hot summer noon, like the loo, which everyone tries to avoid.

And the tightness in his chest isn't nearly as tight as it used to be all the times the memories flooded him.

He doesn't really like nostalgia. It is a feeling which always hangs within your memories, a strange emotion which always leaves a trail of melancholy behind it, no matter how good the nostalgia might feel to be. No: there's always a feeling, ratther, a question in your mind about what if. A desire to live a life based on the past, totally ignoring how good your present can be.

Humans are never really happy with whatever they own, because suddenly they know the worth after it's already too late. You can only mourn.

But not anymore, though.

" Yoongi? "

Broken from his trance, Yoongi looks to the source of the voice. Even before looking at the person he knows it's him through the smooth, steady voice. An unfairly proportioned, carved-by-the-god-who-took-her-time face, with curious, bright almond eyes almost covered with black, fluffy tresses of hair greets him.

Ah, yes, he has to crane his neck up to look at the man.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, his senior, and one of his bestest business partners one can ever wish for. A friend he always looked up at. (quite literally?) The CEO of Kim Corp., Seokjin might be a man better visioned, more experienced, more thorough, and even more free-minded than Yoongi is, with a sense of humor enough to make you wheeze till tears on a gloomy day, or even annoy you at your best. An unfairly handsome man who seemed to age backwards and maybe could accidentally be casted to any movie and you won't even catch him slip.

One of the bestest friends you could ask for.

Yoongi found himself smiling at him more widely than he was used to.

"Hyung. "

The older man's eyebrows shoot up at the sky. Sure, he has seen Yoongi smile, or try his hardest to feign to do so too, but oh boy. You don't see Min Yoongi grinning at you often, for why the grin seems a bit too genuine ( mind you, he was more than happy to see him smiling like that. A smile which he feels can brighten up anyone's day.) : a smile which somehow made the cheese tteokbokki resting in his tummy dance, but well...

For now, all he does is offer the plate of cheese corn dog, piping hot towards the grinning man, silently urging him to take one.

“I'm sure my eyes don't spread misinformation, but is this really Min Yoongi whom I'm seeing here at this street, standing here, letting the world look for free?”

"I definitely cannot tell you about your eyes, if you offer your corn dogs to every stranger you meet on the street...so I can't really tell if it's anything to you, though. ''

Yoongi shrugs, and Seokjin rolls his eyes, wrapping his free arm around Yoongi's smaller figure with a snort, leading him to the stalls nearby, but not before flooding him with a river of questions to Yoongi who occasionally answers one or two.

“Jokes aside, I can tell you have a lot to tell me. Hey, don't gimme that weird stare: that works only with your officials. Tell me more, and all that can happen above a nice platter of crispy fresh kimchijeon, ha, the aroma!”

And Yoongi had no chance but to comply. Above all, he was thankful to have such a jouvial company at such a night.

“You gotta be shitting my dick.”

Seokjin audibly chokes on the bite of his crispy pancake, and with a muffled cough, looks up at Yoongi. He again has one of his expressionless façade on his face, and Seokjin just maybe needs some time to process the why's and how's of questions popping in his head.

“I'd rather prefer a toilet.”

Yoongi says that almost nonchalantly, as if he's discussing how hot Seoul is. Unbelievable, but so Yoongi of him, he thinks. He shallows down his food, and presses his lips to a straight line, which screams that if you don't tell me right now...

and Yoongi knew that look way too well.

But however, again it surprises Yoongi himself again as all that he does is to shrug with a smug face and the man opposite him visibly frowns with his jaw open.

" Yoongi, my dude, you're getting married. You're getting married ! That too, all of a sudd— ”

Seokjin puts down his chopsticks to the plate, shaking his head as he gulps his food down. Shit, he was nearly choking on his rice..

“You- you're on the top among the powerful bachelors of South Korea, " Seokjin emphasizes with a click to his chopsticks, pointing it towards the man in the question.

“The last time I was told the stats, a certain Kim Seokjin was on the top, actually..”

Yoongi shrugs again, raising his brows with a playful smirk which only infuriates the man opposite to him. With the same energy, Yoongi clicks the chopsticks back, making a small circle in the air with the edge.

“It's you, actually..”

"Hey, that's not at all what I meant! "

Seokjin’s voice is full of excitement, pitched to the extent that Yoongi slightly flinches at the intensity. It's high enough for the customers beside their tables to peer curiously at them, some frowning or some chuckling. Seokjin visibly flushes, and Yoongi has his lips pressed to a thin line now. He's trying his hardest not to cackle, and the older man looks like he's trying to spot a place to bury his grave and sink in.

Seokjin quickly snatches away a napkin to divert the attention, clearing his throat and wiping his grease smeared mouth with the napkin.

And then, with a far more hushed tone, he continues.

"Wanting to know about your tea was a bluff bro, a bluff ! It's not often I see you in a casual sweatshirt and jeans. It's not often I see Min Yoongi in front of me snacking on Yachaejeon like the good ol times. I just wanted you to eat.

To spend time with me. To gain some weight because you're skinny. Because you don't eat. I just thought we'd be either heading home sober, catching up with what we've left behind or get wasted on a bar stall later at night, but you dropping a bomb like that wasn't it!"

“You're not calling my marriage 'your tea', are you, hyung?”

Yoongi's eyes are now narrowed to slits, almost like a cat’s when he's about to pounce on you, throwing daggers to Seokjin's way, who just nervously laughs, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

"Definitely not, my dongsaeng, haha.. All what I was saying......is, that if it hadn't been our fateful meeting, would I have ever even known about this te— errr, your marriage? "

Yoongi shugs, again.

"Don't think so. Word spreads fast. Mr. Kim hangs out often with the old man, so even if not, I was sure to be expecting your cheeky ass at my wedding, though. "

Yoonngi casually takes a sip of his soda, swirling the can in his hands to fizz it up, but soon realizes it has been a grave mistake to have said this to Seokjin who looks so shocked, almost to the point he sees his large, curious eyes glossy with fake emotion.

"This just proved you don't care about your hyung anymore."

Seokjin croaks, wiping the non existent tears from his cheeks. He almost looks like a dejected hamster, Yoongi thinks, but keeps that to himself. Yoongi is about to respond, when Seokjin suddenly scoots closer to him, and almost squeaks. He was almost lured to think that Seokjin was offended, but the mischievous glint in his eyes tell otherwise.

"Tell me, have you seen them already or not? Or shared a text? "

"I met her in person today itself, some few hours ago. I kid you not, hyung, don't- don't stare at me like that,” he quickly retorts as he sees how Seokjin's eyes widen comically, a thick eyebrow arching, “Your eyes shall pop out of your sockets if you do so. "

But just as soon, Yoongi watches his expressions go devoid of any amusement, exactly as he sees him during the office hours. Like the CEO Kim everyone knows and shits in fear, too.

Still not as serious as that, because the glint still sparkles in his eyes and food is stuffed in mouth, making his cheeks squish out as he chews noisily.

" Tell me, what is she like? "

RECEIVED : 8:20 AM

seokjin hyung : Another day, another slay 🔥

wake up lazy cat

bruh

…

RECEIVED : 8:35 AM

hey plz check i sent some money to u. get some food ur skinny

SEEN 8:35 AM

me : it's not there

RECEIVED 8:40 AM

seokjin hyung : HA

HELL OF A MEAN GUY YOU'D CHECK ONLY FOR MONEY! 💔

SEEN 8:45 AM

me : i’m a businessman for a reason.

RECEIVED 8:45 AM

seokjin hyung : rude (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

SEEN 8:58 AM

me : 👍

RECEIVED 8:58 AM

seokjin hyung : i hope u haven't forgotten abt our deal

SEEN 9:20 AM

?

RECEIVED 9:20 AM

seokjin hyung : what.

DELIVERED 10:00 AM

me : o yea i forgo

Yoongi makes a small tsk as his fingers accidentally tap on the send option, without him getting the chance to type the last "t".

And it somehow surprises him, because Seokjin, who replies within seconds, hasn't responded back, yet, and already two minutes have passed.. suddenly, a ping makes him look back to his screen and surprisingly the sound came from the talkie on his desk , now ringing continuously.

He receives the call, and is greeted by the crisp voice of his secretary. However, he's quick to recognise the distaste in his voice, too. But he doesn't press on it, because as far his voice is normally just as professional as he usually maintains, and is good at it. His voice is crisp, but Yoongi can read the irritation well-hidden behind it.

" Good morning, Mr. Min. May I let you know your schedule for today?”

“Well, Jeon, I suppose you know better?"

With a quick hum, Yoongi now sees the tabulated form of his schedule on his laptop screen. Cool, just as he thought it would be.

Another meeting with the designer group Jung's for the winter fashion week collaboration, which should end by almost 11:45, or max 12.

Okay. One excursion to the base point of d-7 duplex. Should stretch till 12:30, alright, another visit to the sketching department to see the collaboration work in progress, and the estimated time for visual sketches is done already? Impressive. Reviewing these would take his most time, as he is supposed to be commenting on them all before the designs are confirmed for the higher base project.

Maybe that's one of his favorite things to do, because he loves to see the raw skills float in front of him, the passion in their explanations, such young aspiring artists blooming with their artwork, and the creativity in their visualization of the ideas he could only admire as outfits.

He's glad to have such skilled visual artists as the roots of d-7,which he hopes he can express his gratitude once apart from a way other than just paying them wages..

Visual designing may seem easy, but there's really nothing in this world called easy.

Visual des-

“after years of applying and getting rejected, it was the last chance for me to be finally a visual designer for Valentino,which despite having many limitations,is the star of my dreams; only if I could attend the event at Singapore past this month, which on my presence, would approve me for so in the last streak. But past this month....”

His mind wanders back to your sweet face. That was random. The sadness and the helplessness laced within your voice made him close his eyes, and just again, he feels as if he's back to yesterday on the balcony at the Park's, with you standing beside him...

“That chick would be lured in here to design for us, without any further queries. "

The sudden, bitter voice makes him snap his eyes open, focusing back to the screen. He couldn't just..

What's this?

13:00

Lunch with Mr. Old Min.

His first instinct is to call Jeongguk right away, and ask whatever the fuck is this.

Does that old bastard think that any circumstance like this would make him desirable enough to be seen daily? He can barely stand him for a few minutes, now, for lunch? It's not like he actually has ever maintained the ‘ideal’ father status ever even now or back when Yoongi was a kid.

Ha.

And for what, prey? If it's about any bullshit he spoke about yesterday, he wasn't sure if he could bear it anymore.

Yoongi wasn't sure if his suspicions were actually correct as he feels like a man like him would have nothing to talk about but that, about how this marriage is a step towards his son's future, but he knows better.

It's all business to the old man.

He rubs his eyes, dejectedly. This is just the beginning of the day, and woah, what a start.

Well, he had no other options but just so exhale and say fuck it all, and start the day.

No matter how hard he tries to ignore the shrill, annoying voice of the lady in charge presenting the presentation, a draft of the outfits designed inspired by the renaissance, he cannot help it. He doesn't even know how and why are the sparkling elements added to the outfits relevant to the era where everything designed was a result of prolonged, deep thinking. When people were evolving.

Elegance and sophistication were a close observation, but chic was not the style how Renaissance was based on. And this lady is trying her best to explain otherwise, saying that maybe these are inspired but they as well should have the cliche of the 21st century as well, as Yoongi thinks that it's not at all a good idea.

Blending trends with the original idea might not be the best out there, especially when it feels like the outfit design looks rather frumpish.

The lady in charge is simply groveling to win hearts but by the bored looks, Yoongi knows that many are thinking similar to what he is. Yoongi was rather impressed at how fast the design was finished earlier in the day, but now he feels that maybe it was all in vain. There's a small spark of hope inside him which says that maybe the other team has a better idea than this, and let time be no further wasted in this experiment.

It could've been, only if the theme was different.

He tries to keep a straight face, maintaining his professionalism with a rigid posture. A quick peek all over the conference room convinces him just exactly that his thoughts match with everyone else in this room, especially the head of the illustration team, whom he's acquainted with. Jung Hoseok. Everyone else in this room is at least trying to suffice the bland explanations, but he's not at all even trying. He looks pissed, his eyes shooting such criminal offensive side eye glances that Yoongi almost wishes to laugh, but he knows better.

A glance to Jeongguk, and he sees the poor kid struggle to keep himself from frowning, hard. Jeongguk is one of the most creative people he has ever seen, and he often wonders why he is not putting his skills at the right place, rather than having a major in business and being in that field.

To be the jack of all trades is hard, but Jeongguk excels them all.

Besides, most of today's schedules were totally messed up, and the meetings one after one were delayed for one reason or another. It's nearly 12:30, he notices by the giant wall clock above the whiteboard. The toe of his left shoe taps slightly to the floor with a rhythm, getting roasted second by second by the never ending speech.

He only wishes if the main points were jotted down here..

“Painters like Michelangelo, made it clear with the carving of—”

“ It would be much appreciated if the real point is explained, rather than just beating around the bush, Miss Choi. Irrelevance is highly avoided. ”

Hoseok’s raspy voice takes over the shrill voice of the lady who visibly is embarrassed, too flustered to gather the correct words to speak. Yoongi is somewhat thankful that someone finally spoke up, but he feels a tad bit bad for the girl : her idea was nice, and rather creative, just not fitting the winter nor the theme actually fit for the week or the topic. Or is it actually the nervousness which seems to creep out from her to him making him feel bad for her, because a few moments ago, Yoongi himself was close to losing it all.

His words have her fumbling with her files, something Yoongi knows is because of fear.

His gaze meets her nervous ones right to the opposite end of the table, and he sees defeat in them right in the moment he sees the pupils shake. He's been in this field for way too long to understand that helplessness, that dejection.

He sees her step back with a bow, mumbling something which he couldn't hear. She nods lightly, and sweeps back to her destined place.

Yoongi silently wishes if she could fight back for herself. If she could point out the valid information, but seems like she wasn't prepared for that. She wasn't prepared to be interrupted, too.

And so it's not really surprising when he notices the whole conference room having a thick air of tension and Yoongi does not have to assume anything. The members of the Illustration team are visibly intimidated by their head, who's now tonguing the inside of his cheeks, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration.

Yoongi knows that the prompt response has been shit from his side— he doesn't even know who's to blame now.

Maybe he needs to speak up.

“Rather strange for the total prompt, but overall, better than what has been used for add ons, ” Yoongi begins, attracting the attention of the whole team, and everyone present seems to be a bit more attentive, a bit better with their posture, including Hoseok as well, whose eyes are on him.

All eyes are on him.

Normally, or even in a parallel universe, or him some ten years ago would've freaked out, fidgeted, squirmed on his seat- but now he barely feels the effect on him. It's all a daily basis thing, all calculating eyes on you and all what you're left behind is to just think, think and think about what meaning they could possibly hold behind them. Nervousness and fear flooding in your veins you're left with sweaty palms and a quivering mind, but for Yoongi, he was used to it all.

He does not care now.

“ Mr. Min, I think better— ”

Hoseok begins but Yoongi knows what he's about to speak on. He wishes the prompt to be given to Yoongi’s department. Yoongi wishes otherwise, because just because of a mismatch of prompts, he doesn't want any more dilemma to choose— the Jung team is overall flooded with skill, and he wishes them to bloom; he knows that this batch was particularly picked for the newcomers who are freshly picked from the team of art and management resources. D-7 are a group of professionals, but Jung Team are known to be ametures.

He scrolls mindlessly through the internet, but maybe not too mindlessly.

And so he raises a palm to stop the younger man speaking, and thinks it is rather bold of him to quirk a brow in return. Well yes, maybe he wasn't used to being questioned after that, so. Maybe he wasn't used to it all.

“ I think a few modifications need to be done at some point, otherwise it's all good. ”

He sees Hoseok's jaw drop slightly. He sees all the other members present in the room having their eyes widened, including the girl who was just presenting— What did they expect? Yoongi watched the gears in their brain work quickly, and by the time Yoongi spun the paperweight in his fingers, he blinked at Jeongguk, and the younger quickly took the initiative.

Funny, he thinks, because never in these ten years had Yoongi ever been so in place with an assistant, and it has been seven years since Jeongguk has been his assistant. Never had he ever talked about how a blink, not even a nod could signal him to do the deed of ending for the day.

Well, Jeongguk knows him just as he knows Jeongguk, he thinks. Maybe, maybe it's not vice versa to this point.

Subconsciously, his lips quirk upwards at the sight of the younger getting up, fixing his coat.

“ I think we should wrap up for the day, everyone. ”

His voice, professional as ever, echoes in the room and suddenly everyone's business like manners breaks, relaxing in their seats. Yoongi too, let out a breath he didn't know he was holding onto.

Jeongguk’s round eyes meet his own, and Yoongi nods, slowly watching the members leave one by one, a small hum of conversation peeking in between them all. It's rather comfortable , he thinks. Yoongi relaxes back in his seat, loosening up his tie knowing well that his schedule for the day has ended. Well, not really—

“ It was gracious of you, hyung. ''

his eyes flick through to see Hoseok’s curious eyes set on him, and in his peripheral vision can see Jeongguk cock a brow at him, somewhat questioning like. Hoseok’s cold and competent demeanor has been shed off totally, as his child-like countenance holds surprise towards him.

“ That was the least I could do, Hoba. ”

Yoongi replies with a short hum, and he knows that the human bunny must have his eyes jumping out of his sockets to hear him talking to someone informally, something which doesn't happen often in the office premises. Hoseok’s face blooms in a heart shaped smile, his whole soul brightening up. That's a contagious smile.

He hears a sound of surprise from Jeongguk, on turning to him. He assumes that he's great at hiding that too, because he quickly clears up his throat and nods. Yoongi smiles a bit at him, and upon collecting the files, the three men head out for the rest of the day.

Yoongi is trying his best to not just fucking slam the plate of roasted shrimp on this man’s face.

He wishes absolutely nothing but a comfortable bed because his back hurts from sitting in such a straight posture for hours, not even having the time to stretch his aching limbs. Not to mention this uncomfortable suit which was once uncomfortable, but he's been wearing it since the morning— is he to blame?

oof, a part of him wished to roam nakey nakey in his home, but that..eh, cannot be.

He totally cannot ignore how fancy this place is, and he can see the whole Seoul from the large, spacious windows. Rooftop restaurants usually feel nice with a vibe so free and open, but not in front of this man who makes him want to deliver straight punches on his face and dislocate his jaw. The younger him was forced to oblige by his father's commands, but the him now doesn't see why can't he just fucking trash this old man till he—

He bites back the anger rising up to his throat. It's not often his father wishes to “ see him ” and be polite all of a sudden, not when it's because of him Yoongi has a bitter time managing something he didn't wish to even engage in. But maybe he has long gone through the stages of grief and acceptance has been his companion, so he has to grit his teeth the hardest to tolerate it all. He has seen it all. He has endured it all. Does he still have to?

“ Why aren't you eating, son? ” Oh, right. You wanted me to be here just to eat.

“ I’m not hungry. ”

Yoongi tries, or desperately hopes his lie isn't blatantly obvious, because he knows his tummy has been rumbling for an hour or so, but there's no way he'd be dining with this man. Not only does he hate how this old man has no etiquettes, chewing loudly or arguing with a damn waiter for a toothpick, he also hates his presence in common.

If he knows Yoongi well, Yoongi knows him just as well too, to know that this is just an excuse and he wishes to do something else, and that's enough to silence down his hunger.

“ Have you chosen any destination for the wedding as of yet?”

I knew it. Yoongi knows how selfish this man can be, and for him this question doesn't make any literal sense. He just met you yesterday, and there's no way..he expects Yoongi to move so fast, like that. What does he think he's in, 526 AD?

“ No. ”

Yoongi found himself speaking before he could think properly, seeing the old man in front of him wipe his mouth and cock a brow. Alright, if he's trying to communicate silently.. he guesses time has taught him better. To keep this non permeable layer on the top of his persona especially infront of this man, he knows he does it well. He won't utter a single word, because for the sake of fuck, he just saved your number in his phone a few hours ago! You cannot just expect him to do anything related to the marriage so quick, especially when his father's initiative had him tossing around his bed sleeplessly the whole night.

He would not let him use his fiancee for the profit of his own company. It's fucked up, not only in a single way but more than one. He's not much of a family guy, but marriage cannot be one sided- and for you, maybe he's lowering himself down enough to try and be a good guy for you, but does this old man ever even think of something which isn't business?

“ Do you not think time’s enough? You were told about the marriage a week ago already, ”

the man's voice has annoyance laced within, and Yoongi nearly snorts at his audacity.

“ Is it your wedding or mine, father? ”

“ You need to make it quick, ”

his retort comes back, and Yoongi can't help but feel satisfied at his growing anger. He knows to play the game, because this old man has been acting as if it's his own marriage. First, he gives you no other options and keeps on his emotional blackmail of never getting a partner who has been in his life for more than a year, second, for how it can benefit the Min family as the only heir.

Yoongi has long ago swept away the anger suppressing the guilt of his own mother being in his life for less than his teenage years, but he's tired. He kept on running forward without noticing how much this old man hurt him, but there has to be a time where you need to stand up. Maybe not for yourself, but for people who're soon going to be a part of your life. It's not always about yourself, but people you care about.

Yoongi found it ridiculous. Marriage just to make kids and raise them up like a handful of peas let out in a open windowsill. Just to make kids. And even possibly, money.

Yoongi found the idea suffocating at first. His own parents’ failed marriage had a big contribution in his way of thinking how arranged marriage can also be a forced marriage if the goal is only to lengthen the generation, not at all thinking that the parents involved are also humans. Humans with feelings cannot be forced to live a life destined to be forever with expectations, which could often either lead to success or failures. But to Yoongi, success in lives like these were forced failures masked with the stench of cash to make them look lavish.

So the thought of making it "quick" is enough to make him hiss in irritation. His eyes are now narrowed to slits towards the old man, anger slowly making its way to fog his already hunger ridden brain..

“ Why. ”

“ I've already told you, son. ”

“ What, Yeseul isn't talented enough as you promised she was to the team? ”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, visibly watching the old man try his hardest not to crumble down to flames. Comically, one would see smoke coming out of his ears. It makes Yoongi snorts out a humorless snort.

“ It's none of your business, do you get that? ”

The old man nears slightly with his neck down, eyes set firmly on Yoongi. As a child, the stare used to scare him the fuck out of his balls, but now this stare is enough to make him stifle a laugh. The manipulative stare which he expects everyone to become his puppet with. Well, I just hit his nerve.

“ My wedding, and none of my buisness, you say? ”

“There are other ways I can ask her to, I'm just trying to make it seem well ordered. ”

Again he goes. The same manipulative tone. If he thinks that his position can get him everything, maybe even if his arms reach longer than Yoongi’s imagination do, but Yoongi knows it well that he's all bark but a rare bite.

He would not let this happen. He knows his father is a corrupt man, who uses unfair means in his business. This is why D-7 is owned solely by Yoongi, who was once under partnership with his father. Yoongi has totally bought all the shares, making D-7 go public and him being the biggest investor. Thrusting in people not eligible enough to be in art, his father had already infected the industry more than enough, and now he wouldn't absolutely let the small shares marking the small partnership to the old man rise up.

“ Genuinely asking you. You could've opted any other way you're insinuating, but why this, out of many? ”

Not a pretence, but out of pure curiosity. He may as well as think this to be many reasons why he can bother Yoongi, but the pricking question hanging in the margin of the sword, that the danger lies just in the end.

Nepotism can be buried by the strength of dollars, but in some cases revolting unscrupulous businessmen like him, he knows that this would be a hot topic for the media. And the mere thinking of using someone so innocent and dragging to this pit of hell is honestly enough for him to throw up. You're already a hell of a talented designer, and if he wishes to invest your designs under the name of his good for nothing wife to whoosh up the sales, he'd rather not marry you.

That's.. a different thing now, isn't it?

His father keeps quiet. Yoongi feels the burn of his stare digging holes in his skull, however, lets out a deep laugh at the end.

“I guess you're naive enough to not know how profitable it can be for both : her, you, and even me.”

“ At least I know for Yeseul, it is not. ”

“ She's your mother,”

Stepmother, he almost wishes to hiss the word out, but saying it out loud would definitely make bile rise up to his mouth, because his already starving self cannot physically bear any more stress than already he has been carrying around. He's not ashamed to say that his stepmother is younger than Yoongi himself, and an absolute gold digger, who he doubts even has a degree of graduation.

Such an ostentatious person gets often compared to Mrs. Min, his mother by all the rising gossip every single day. Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, knowing that this conversation would rather have such wounds pricked up inside his heart which would have him bleeding longer than he could bear.

“ No. ”

He sees the old man flare his nostrils in anger, kissing his teeth: and Yoongi doesn't even feel a bit sorry for it. It is what it is. And he would not make any fuss about it. He'd rather call that woman his sister than his mother, and seriously? Yoongi doesn't give two flying fucks about who she is. Yesterday the discussion didn't go too well, and he felt a lot more bothered than his manifest could muster, but he knows that his father's current wife, Yeseul, has no skill or whatsoever to be the president of the corporation his father owns. It is what it is.

And not even an exaggeration, he knows that it's all the glitters and gold which attracts her to this sophisticated man; it wouldn't be long time from now when he'd be left again with a balding head and an empty bank account.

Someone younger than Yoongi himself and he wants to call them his parent.

Ha.

And that's the reason why the old man wishes to hire ____ to work under him, but in the end the credits would go to Yeseul, because apparently that woman had promised his team to be a better visualization designer.

He wants Yoongi to marry you, so that the hiring would seem rather natural, and Yoongi thinks that it would only drag you more to the mud of the industry and gossip, which he does not want.

“ More like my junior. ”

Yoongi cocks his brow, sipping some water from the glass nearby his wrist.

“ Remember that she's my wife. My legal wife, and your mother. ”

A bitter scoff escapes Yoongi, his nostrils flaring at his sentence as he peers down to his empty plate.

“ She is not my mother. ”

Yoongi makes sure he stresses on the word not, dragging out each syllable with a rough taste on his tongue. He can tolerate many things, but not the absence of his mother, which has left a gaping, open dent in his soul forever. The only gentle presence he ever had in his growing years was her, the only person he called his family, that too, is no longer present with you.. he could feel his stomach churn with anger.

He had a single mother. And though she was no longer with him, he does not consider anyone else to be in the same position as his mother. A mother who raised him up, sacrificing everything for herself. Despite having another parent, him, he never even had his shadow touch any of them. He feels anger totally cloud his mind, now that the gentle touch of your soul had touched him, he was about to lose it all.

“ I fucking dare you to even lay a finger on ___, her you fucking stink. I’ll make sure that no amount of money can heal you afterwards.” Yoongi growls loudly, raising a sweaty palm up and ordering for the bill.

Yoongi is out of his head, and he totally has lost his sense of rationality. Triggering the pain of his dead mother along with barrelling his fiancee to this topic makes him a person he doesn't know yet. Yoongi is done with this conversation, this sick conversation about his morally grey buisness.

And he totally misses the somewhat shocked and fearful, agape mouth of the old man in front of him as Yoongi sweeps his coat out of the headrest after paying and marches out of the venue without taking a look back. his head is throbbing with pain and stomach is wild with ugly sensations.

He wishes to take this slow, talk to you more and atleast befriend you and be comfortable before any preparations, but this situation.. he doesn't fear his father anymore, but. It's you. It's you who he fears because of the industry, because of the dirt which smears every part of him. He's used to it, he had to make himself so, but he cannot let someone as pure as you be contaminated.

Once again it's all a haze infront of his eyes. The strong wind hitting his face from the open car window does nothing to soothe his burning thoughts, and neither does the low humming of music in the radio. It all feels a blur.

He remembers not much, or rather forces himself not to. After that, eh, meeting with that old man, the only thing he knew was to call Jeongguk and ask him to clear all his schedules for the day.

The voice from the other side sounded very concerned, but Yoongi is thankful he only asked whether he's alright and let the topic drop without dragging it much. He just hopes that Jeongguk understands. And then he's straight up driving somewhere he doesn't know where, but he's tired. Mentally, physically, and every way possible.

He's tired of thinking so much. He's so tired he totally missed the constant buzzing of his phone on the center console.

Little does he know that not receiving his calls has sent Seokjin to hayware.

All what he knows are the words, the flashes of memories which float infront of his eyes and the constant struggle to keep himself as where he is and not getting lost in the moment, to fall back within the memories. The constant ache in his head which replays your voice saying, “ I don't ” and the picture of your sweet face. The constant scowl he remembers of his father saying he wants him to marry you only for his own profit.

Did you really mean to sacrifice your passion for a stupid marriage?

His grip on the steering wheel is so tight, his knuckles have turned white. What if the old man approaches you and lures you to work for him? Yeah, of course for an outsider that business would look so organized, so well planned, but only people like Yoongi know the truth.

He's the sweetest to anyone who doesn't know him well. Hell, even he believes that the woman he married might not know him any better. He could sell your soul to anyone in front of you with you being totally oblivious.

All that glitters isn't gold.

He knows your passion for art even if he doesn't know you. He knows that maybe you'd be willing enough to work for that man, but would that be okay if that woman, Yeseul takes all the credits and you've lost your deserved recognition? Would you be able to manage to be afloat on the dirty smear of the industry without blaming yourself?

Would you hate him? He won't listen to shit. An artist has every rights to be credited and if it's snatched away by every means, he really wonders if you'd be alright with it. Alright with the theft. He doesn't gives a single fuck about the ever shitting media who just needs a topic to whisk on untill it's shit. He just cares about you.

Wait..

Does he—?

But one thing he already knows is that the news of his marriage would be enough of a bonfire starter.

He's now leaning on his car, aching limbs begging to have a seat but the tension in his spine doesn't budge.

Even if he had promised himself, he finds himself slipping down his mask, each time the memories of his happy self, his young happy self with his mother comes to his mind and the realization floats that he cannot rewind those memories any more. She's no longer with him.

All he knows is the burning sensation of nicotine filling his lungs all down to his toes, and the puff of smoke released out releases his tension, even by an inch if that is, too. He breathes out the smoke through his nostrils, fidgeting with the small silver lighter in his hand. He knows that it's a shitty, wrong way to cope up with anxiety , although his healing nails thank him for letting them be.

But at least the cigarette does not tell you anything. It does what it's supposed to do, what it's meant to do, what it's made to do, and dies.

So much like a human.

The park he's standing in the corner of is noisy, but somewhat tolerable. The warm air is making him feel stuffy, and the cool place has the least effect on him. The place feels..nice. He blinks twice, feeling his eyes burn with the hot weather, too.

Somehow his mind convicts back to you.

And somehow, knowing very well that his father's company is filled with back stabbers.. somehow if the information is leaked abroad, would you be alright?

God fucking damn it. Why is he thinking about all these when you're possibly oblivious and thinking of your marriage?

What are you doing now?

How are you?

How did your day go?

Why would you want to marry a guy like him?

All these thoughts are totally enough to make him squirm. Why does he care? He just met you yesterday. He knows not much except some things, but still, the pull to just know about you is eating him up right now. It's just crazy how the thought of you not liking him irks him a Lot, like, a Lot.

Shifting the cigarette to his left hand, he reaches to get his phone from the console. His throat feels dry as fuck, almost feeling as if it'd crack up.

He'd kill for a bottle of water, but well, even swallowing his saliva feels like a mountain breaking down on him. It's been a long time since he checked on his phone other than calling his secretary. He should've checked, because the upcoming projects do have connections to files which only he has access to. Well.

.. alright, there's a spam email.

…..next, a Google chrome updat—

…..?

…

[ Seokjin Hyung : 95 missed calls ]

[ Seokjin Hyung : 350+ unread messages ]

Yoongi felt a sweat bead run down his temple.

He totally forgot about the fact that he was supposed to meet Seokjin nearly an hour ago, and when he sees the endless thread of texts, he almost feels like tearing up.

The poor man had texted him since 12:30 asking if his schedule is light enough for their meeting, or he'd meet him some other day. The texts get vigorous after each text, angry emojis and random keyboard smashes asking him about his condition. The guilt is slowly building in his lower tummy to know how considerate his cousin is, and how ignorant he was to him.

They had a deal about visiting the local mall and hitting the game zone, but..

He wishes to call him, so bad. His throat is running dry, and the throb of his head deepens, more. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he desperately wishes he had the courage to call him and talk, and maybe actually share his problems, but he knows Seokjin would be so mad… not that it's like Seokjin is a person who's out of control, but as a caring friend, he sometimes gets a bit overactive.

He knows Seokjin would be the only person who'd understand him better than anyone else, but maybe calling him after he's cooled down would be the best option. He knows Seokjin isn't that level headed, but he deserves an explanation, and maybe he isn't ready right now.

And so he leaves the texts as they are, texting back a single “i’ll call u back asap”, and navigates to his contact list. He's contemplating hard, right now. The “ favorite ” starred contacts stare at him, Seokjin, Jeongguk, Taehyung, and then..yours. His fingers hover over Seokjin’s for a while, and then, over yours.

Maybe it's not the right option to call you. Nope, not at all. Why would he even think that? You two aren't even friends. Not when he doesn't know if you're free enough to talk to him, not when he doesn't know if his call would be a disturbance.

Not when he feels like his call would annoy you. He shouldn't, because it's been just a day you've shared numbers, and wouldn't it be too early to call and just ask,“Hey, whatcha doing? ” Nah, that would be way too awkward. Way too—

“ Mr. Min? ”

A soft voice chirps beside him, knocking out all the air out of his lungs. He has never been this reactive to a voice, blame his fucked out state. He catches himself turning immediately to the source of the voice, arms beating flat against his windowsill, gasping.

Wildflowers.

He's met with a faint smell of honey, and jasmine, and the mixed smell of wildflower bouquet that greets him, the cluster of yellow and small lavender flowers resting with the lush greenery among them. His brows furrowed slightly at how a bouquet of flowers is what he sees in the beginning rather than the voice, but a small moment of realization takes place when he sees the person hiding behind the gigantic bouquet.

“ Fuck. ”

He doesn't notice how a cold breeze caresses his flushed, hot skin, as a pair of warm, doe eyes stare up at him.

You.

“ ____? ”

“ Did I scare you off? ”

Your lips quirk upwards, a hard attempt to hold back your giggles to see how flustered he looks, surprised till the extent you'd say, if comically, he looks like a cat caught playing with boxes at midnight with his fur sticking up in all the directions, wide eyed and mouth agape.

His eyes are still wide when he relaxes visibly in your presence, sighing down with a smile.

The faint smell of tobacco greets you and subconsciously scrunch up your nose. You're not a big fan of cigarettes, and maybe it's your instinct to shove away the smell. You didn't want to assume too much, but maybe you did get the bad boy vibes from this man. So his smoking didn’t really phase you as much as it should've.

Light beige shirt with rolled up sleeves and tailored pants. Pretty, flowy black hair parted on forehead, and pale skin flushed with a sheen layer of sweat. He looks really..handsome but also very adorable with those flushed cheeks, but also, so..tired at the same time.

His eyes scream for rest.

Out of so many people, you have to admit it. Min Yoongi was the least of your expectations. A simple walk from your favourite florist to back home, there's a lovely little park, where you often visit for giggles and laughs, and honestly speaking, you couldn't even imagine Yoongi standing there, even if it was in a far corner.

You didn't really wish to say that, but a La Rose Noiré standing in the corner had actually attracted more attention than he'd even ever intended to. Would that be a co-incidence to say that he didn't leave your mind even if he had physically left your home hours ago, and now that he's standing in front of you?

His eyes lack the glint they had yesterday. His shoulders seem unfairly tensed, even if his posture is leaned back. You don't know him, yet, but there's a certain hue of coldness around his shoulders, and all the calculating gazes and stares he gave you yesterday, you somehow found the way to nudge into the warmer side of him, or so you assume.

He doesn't seem to be the most affectionate of a person, or so you assume, again. The internet, irrespective of their own words, never fails to regard him to be made up of stone. Is that anything new, though? you beg to differ. His quick consideration of your whole situation despite being demanding for both of you assured you that this man wasn't the man stealing the headlines and trends on twitter. Even if that was the bare minimum, you appreciate it.

“ I— I just didn't expect you here. ”

His words lag behind with a flurry of coughs and furrowed brows, and you see him shuffling his phone back to his pocket, crushing his cigarette underneath his shiny black shoes meanwhile. He doesn’t seem too well, you see.

His skin is paler than usual, and his silky hair slightly unruly, some strands sticking to his forehead. His skin seems to be a bit more flushed, too. He seems uncomfortable in general, and he covers his mouth to sniffle back a sneeze.

“ Mr. Min, are you not well? ”

No verbal response comes back, but a quirk of brows is enough to answer you. So unreadable, you think. But it does not take rocket science to figure out, does it? Without thinking twice, your palms reach up to his slightly sweaty forehead.

You have to tip toe a bit to reach up to him, but that's alright. Was your palm too cool or his skin burning that it felt like his forehead was a preheated yok?

No, you realize.

“ Mr. Min, you're burning up! ”

Not much of a response comes back, but his eyebrows simply shoot up a bit more, and a bit more coughs which seems to have flushed his face, even more.

He grunts something in response but you miss it, and your palm cupping his warm (and surprisingly soft ) cheek, the action catching him and you both off guard. His eyes widen and so do yours, feeling a heat wave rush up to your face. He coughs, and you immediately remove your hands from his cheek, your palm tingling faintly afterwards. And maybe your whole body too, with embarrassment.

Dear god.

You didn't really mean anything….er. Having the habit of being a bit too affectionate to your siblings would actually make you slip accidentally, you couldn't even imagine. Especially when it's..your fiance.

“ S-sorry. ”

You cringe inwardly at how fucking small you sound, especially hating the stutter that came with it. You wish the earth could suck you up before this conversation advances, right here and right now. It was an accidental touch, a touch which was more instinctive than intentional, yet you do feel that fuzz in your stomach, the fuzz which makes your heart skip miles.

He gives you a small head shake, rubbing his neck with his hands, not before muttering out an it's okay.

You feel relieved a bit, knowing that at least you didn't creep Yoongi out. Or who knows. That undecipherable gaze, those dark brown pupils and that neutral expression. You cannot really say what's going inside his head, and you can only pray otherwise. Oh dear..

Only if you had known Yoongi, you'd have known the effect of your cool touch on the poor guy. Of course you'd miss how Yoongi's heart felt like it's up to his mouth, trying to jump off it's way out to you.

Fuck, what was happening with him?

( literally ).

“ Mr. Min, you need to get some rest. Your.. your fever’s quite intense. ”

You see him clear his throat, running a big hand through his ruffly hair. He nods with a sigh, and you actually notice how pale he looks. He looks disturbed, sick and tired all together, and you suddenly ponder how much and what actually happened to him to be this stressed, but you don't whip on it.

“ Have you eaten? ”

Even if he was already pale, you see color draining down from his face even more, almost as if he himself was yeeted to a moment of epiphany. He wets his lips with his tongue, shaking his head, silently eyeing you for your reaction.

He has not eaten anything as well.

“ Mr. Min, make a call to your home, right now. To whoever is waiting for you. ”

His face morphs to a baffled expression, and you have to think that this was the only expression he has clearly shown you today. But whatever it is. You nod as a confirmation, confusing him even further. As you were told, his father and he live alone separately, but there has to be someone back home, right ?

“ Mrs. Kang…my caretaker would be present at my house, but..why? "

His voice seems way too groggy for his own good, and you can't help but pinch your eyebrows in concern. It seems that even talking is taking a lot of effort for him.

“ Call her, and let her know you won't be home tonight. ”

You have to bite your inner cheek to process how the word home sounds when you say that out loud, because another expression breaks out on Yoongi’s face : his lips part in a slight pout, asking a silent explanation from you. Another small adorable expression.

You bite your lips to cease the smile wanting to break free to see this man so cute that you have to stop yourself from giving in and squishing his cheeks. Who'd know that such an intimidating guy such as himself would be a small, steamed mandu when confused?

Well, at least you didn't. Dear me, he's way too adorable for his own good.

That would be inappropriate. Not after whatever you’ve just done.

Mentally preparing yourself once again, you advance just a bit more closer to him, pretending to offer him the bouquet in your hands.

“ Because you'd be resting at my house today, Mr. Min. ”

a/n : hello and i hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter of apricity 🤪 of course, this is an all new, re-written chapter which i finished in a single day after four months of procrastination 💪🏽🤕

all sorts of feedbacks are always welcome, and, i’m always open for an ask or a text hehe ;D

Slithered | JJK | Chapter 2

Pair: Mafia Jungkook x F Reader 

Summary: Jungkook was wandering the streets in the middle of the night and coincidentally passed the little flower shop you work at. Due to your odd working hours, you don’t have much socialising on a daily basis much less customers. So just imagine your shock when a handsome man, clad in all black, entered your shop in the ungodly hours of the night. Never would you have thought that the polar opposite of the worlds would collide and cause such a trouble. 

Genre: Fluff, mafia au, soft reader 

Chapter Warnings: mild violence, mildly creepy JK watching reader close up shop (if anybody does this irl, please smack the living shit out of them. Stay safe!), rape (I won’t go much into detail of this during the scene but it is implied. Do not be insensitive on this topic. For those who are sensitive on this, please do not continue reading)

A/N: Bold is for flashback.

WC: 2995

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You awoke to an environment that is completely strange to you and not to mention feeling like absolute shit. You weren’t quite sure what had happened last night after you blacked out. All you remembered was being carried by somebody and then - 

You jolted out of bed, head whipping around, trying to get a feel of where you were. The room was far too nice to be a hotel room, far too decorated. Unless this person lived in the hotel. But the moment you looked past the windows and saw endless trees, you knew you weren’t anywhere near a hotel. Most probably a landed property a little farther from the city. 

As you willed your heart to stop racing so much and give you a clear head to think, the silken sheets beneath your hands drew your attention. Softer and warmer than the ones in your house, you glided your hands through them, in awe of the sensations they give off. Whoever brought you back must be filthy rich. 

A sudden shiver ran through your body. 

Wait, your body -

You weren’t in your work clothes. You were in somebody else’s PJs! And from the size of it - 

You shook your head, hurrying out of bed, trying to locate your backpack. 

“No, no, no.” You were panicking. I mean - who wouldn’t in this situation but -

As you were turning over the room, you heard the bedroom door open and you rushed to cower in front of the sofa seats that were facing the fireplace. 

Please don’t come over, please don’t come over, please don’t - 

“That’s not gonna work ya know?” A husky voice sounded from behind you. Shooting up, you came face first with a pair of cat-like eyes and messy hair. As the man unwinded from the chair, you realised that he was in comfortable wear, sweatshirt and pants. Easily slipping his feet into his bedroom slippers, the man held out a hand towards you. 

“I’m Yoongi. Glad to see you’re awake. Jungkook is almost out of his mind right now.”

You were confused. Well, one of your questions was answered. This man standing in front of you is Yoongi. But who is Jungkook? And where were you? Who was the one that saved you if there were two in the house? 

You must have looked like you wanted to be sprouting questions as Yoongi opened the door and said, “It’s best if Jungkook explained the situation to you.” He turned back. “But excuse his over-enthusiastic energy. You were in bad shape and he was freaking out.”

You took his hand and let his lead you around the big, big house. The walls were filled with paintings and pictures, most doors were closed, and the architecture and design of the place felt very… traditional yet modern. Whoever designed it sure had an eye for the Renaissance period. As Yoongi carefully led the both of you down another flight of stairs, you ended up in the kitchen with another six males staring at you. 

Fiddling with the long shirt, you suddenly felt self-conscious. You just got out of bed, haven’t washed your face, brushed your teeth, or even combed your hair so much less say a change of clothes. You flinched at the sudden movement and sound of the chair when a muscular guy suddenly attacked you. 

Suffocated, you tried to push him away. You didn’t know who they were and you didn’t want anything to do with them. Recognizing the signs of an incoming panic attack, you tried to stay as calm as possible while trying your best to get out of the hold. 

Keyword: trying. 

This dude was strong as hell.

“Kook, let the girl go.” You wanted to run - run away from the whole situation. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. 

Out, out. You needed an out. 

Strong hands gripped your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. You cried out. 

“That’s it. Use the pain to ground you. Use it. Don’t lose yourself.”

That voice you recognise - Yoongi. 

You took deep breaths and focused on the pain. The ache as he held your shoulders harshly, the sting of his nails finding purchase in your skin, and the breathlessness you feel in your lungs. As your heart calmed down and your mind cleared somewhat, you looked around the room again. 

Before, you hadn’t noticed the looks of shock from other boys but now you do. Especially one. The one they call Kook. Must be the Jungkook guy. 

You got up on unsteady legs, Yoongi grabbing onto your elbow to ensure you don’t fall and another man - eyes smiling at you as he ruffled your hair - holding your back to give you more stability. But one thing for sure was that they were each pressing themselves against the walls of the room, giving you as much space and air as possible. 

You waved a hand. “I’m - I’m okay.” 

The man at the stove flipped a pancake and looked at you. “Would you like some?”

You nodded, hearing a bunch of ‘tsk’ around the room. 

“Why did you need to ask, Hyung?”

“It’s breakfast, who isn’t hungry?”

“Come on, Hyung, that was such a dumb -”

The man whipped around, pointing a spatula at the others sitting at the table. “Any more from you and you’ll be the one with no breakfast.”

The men instantly quieted. You laughed internally. The control the chef has over them and of course, you couldn’t not laugh at what the chef was wearing. 

A blue My Melody apron. 

Deciding that it wasn’t the best idea to laugh out loud like that, you kept silent, biting your lip. Of course that didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook who was intently looking at you. You weren’t exactly uncomfortable under his gaze but you weren’t comfortable either. 

You hung your head, putting your attention to your wringing fingers. At least you have something to do. 

You needed to know where you were so that you would be able to go back home and settle yourself. Whether it is to settle yourself or settle the mess you left over at the shop, you didn’t want to decide that now. 

Internally sighing, you were broken out of your thoughts when a bowl of bibimbap was placed in front of you. You were about to thank the man with the plush lips when you realised that - the portion was smaller than usual. Of course, not that you were complaining. 

You were completely at the seven men’s mercy. Wearing their clothes, staying over at their house, and possibly being saved by them. You continued to stare at the bowl, only breaking out of your thoughts when a concerned voice flitted over, asking, “Are you okay? Perhaps it’s too heavy and you would prefer something lighter?” 

You looked up to see a man fully dressed in an all-white suit, jewellery adorning his hands. You frantically shook your head, hoping that they wouldn’t take your silence as an offence. 

“No, no. It’s nothing…” You struggled to find the appropriate words to use. Without many social approaches due to your job, such a long talk was starting to make you nervous. Much less to say that you weren’t quite over what had happened. You felt disgusted. You needed a bathe - a shower - whatever - to scrub off the remains of the men who took you. 

You didn’t want it. You didn’t ask for it. 

You had hoped it wouldn’t end up in that type of situation. 

Subconsciously, you started to scratch your arm. 

You didn’t know what your parents were going to think. What were your parents going to say - to do? They wouldn’t kick you out now, would they? Your family was extremely traditional, sheltering you from a young age until you broke free from them. You needed air and wings and you made them yourself.

By no means that their sheltering bid you well. You were social but with the constant anxiety up your mind, you were always overthinking the worst situations. Keeping contact with your family was a once-in-a-month sort of thing. Your schedule did not match normal people’s and it was worse when you had nobody to talk to. 

So when you had started to suspect the rising crimes in the shop’s neighbourhood, you had no one to turn to - to confide in and to ensure your safety. Furthermore, you didn’t want to be a burden to the ones you call ‘friends and family’. 

You felt your heartbeat rising as you started to fret around. Without another word, you bolted up the stairs and by pure instinct and memory, you reached back to the room you woke up in. Dashing straight for the washroom, you quickly stripped and jumped straight into the shower. If you were in any other scenario, you would have taken the time to look and feel the tiles of the bathroom. You would have been so astounded by the sheer money the decorations speak off - so much so that your jaw would have probably dropped so far it couldn’t come back up. 

But you were in no mood to look around. Taking any soap, you lathered your hair and scrubbed your body. Looking down at your reddened skin, you could still feel the men’s touch and malice coming off of you. You brought the loofah to your skin and scrubbed again, turning the water to a blistering heat. 

You needed to get them off and out of you. The cascading heat was welcomed as you felt the burn. Tilting your head back, you winced at the crack in your neck. You were hurting and you knew it was wrong to do what you were to do. But the thought was just oh, so tempting. 

You held it in your trembling hands as you pushed passed the barrier. This wouldn’t be the first nor would it be the last time you would ever do this. 

I promise this is my last time. I promise. 

You had promised yourself so many times it was uncountable by now. 

It was odd - odd as Jungkook stared at your sprinting back. He had spent the time when you were asleep to read up on the post-effects of… what you went through. Jungkook involuntarily shuddered at the thought of him not getting there in time. 

It could have been so much worse. So, so much worse. 

It only got him even more worried when you didn’t come down after thirty minutes. Seokjin had placed a plate on top of your bowl to keep the food warm as well as your cutlery on the plate. Most of his Hyungs were licking their plates clean - not surprising when it is Seokjin Hyung cooking. Of course, Yoongi is compatible but their cooking styles were different enough and the food was always served that nobody really cared who cooked. 

Jungkook must have shown enough worry on his face that Jimin placed his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine, Kook. She’s a big girl. She should be okay.” 

Jungkook nodded, legs starting to bounce as he bit his lip and scratched the corner of his eye. Hobi Hyung quickly caught on and pulled his fingers away, holding them in his as we continued to devour his breakfast as if nothing happened. 

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later when Yoongi got up, not caring to put his bowl in the sink and left the kitchen. Silence suddenly engulfed the kitchen. Something was definitely wrong if Yoongi hadn’t cared to clean up. 

Immediately, Jungkook shot out of his seat, pulling Jimin along with him. He wanted to go where his Hyung would go and he knew precisely where he was headed to. So the start of Jungkook’s nightmare began. 

The three of them entered the room without so much knocking. After all, it was his room and Jungkook had full access to it. 

Of course.

But it was the still air and the prominent smell of blood that permeated the air that had the boys stopping in their tracks. Jungkook was the most sensitive both in his senses and in his personality compared to the rest of his Hyungs. So he dreaded the worst when he slowly unlocked his bathroom door and pushed it open. But the moment his vision cleared and he saw you, he knew that not even his worst memory of a mass of graves, hauling dead bodies into them, could ever compare to this. 

The steam was so much that it was smoking the atmosphere, humidity at its highest. You were lying against the wall of the shower room, hot water cascading directly onto your front as it flowed the red, translucent water down the drain. 

There was a moment of silence before everything went haywire. Jimin screamed, rushing out of the room, most probably to get the rest of his Hyungs and their doctor. Oh, the doctor will probably get a heart attack not just from his old age now. Yoongi had entered the shower, hissing at the heat as he stepped in and turned off the tap. He gently lifted you, placing you down onto the pile of towels Jungkook had laid out on the bathroom floor. 

As Yoongi quickly worked his nimble hands, drying you and ensuring that there were multiple towels stacked on top of you, Jungkook worked to stop the blood. 

Just how long were you in that state? 

He placed two fingers on your pulse. 

Beating but faint. 

You were alive but what if he had gotten in later? What if Yoongi Hyung did not decide to go up to check on you? What if -

“HOLY SHIT!”

“FUCK -”

“I didn’t think that it would get this bad!”

“Somebody get the DOCTOR!!”

Jungkook shook his head and focused on stopping your bleeding. His self-wallowing could be continued after you are in a less critical condition. Now, his only point was to ensure that you lived. 

Jin Hyung and Jimin slid down opposite him, helping him dress you and bound your wounds, carrying you to his bed and tucking you under the covers. By now, you were shivering like a leaf, face pale as you curled up into a ball. There was no leftover blood bags in the fridge that Jin Hyung could use. They didn’t even know your blood type and using one that was not compatible with yours could cause even more problems in your already fragile state.  

Right now, all he could do was wait. 

And to play the waiting game was the most tortuous way. 

Their doctor had rushed over upon hearing the condition you were in. As you were being treated in his room and Namjoon and Hobi Hyung had retreated back to their offices to get some work done, Jungkook went back to the bathroom. 

His brain was in such a frenzy when he saw you lying there, unconscious that he didn’t think before he acted. By instinct, he did the best he could, just like when one of his men was to be found bleeding out. 

Inspecting the bathroom, Jungkook spotted his razor lying in the middle of the shower room. Picking it up, he spotted specks of dried blood and dead skin clinging onto it. Tears began forming at the edge of his eyes as he quickly wiped them away. All his Hyungs were already worried for you and with the upcoming ball, he didn’t want to be any more of a worry.

As the youngest, he was the most doted on. He triggers his Hyungs’ over-protective system into overdrive and this was most certainly not the time to do so. He threw the razor into the bin, starting to scrub his shower room free of blood. 

Once Jungkook was done, he entered back into his room. Seeing you laying there with bandages tightly concealing the wounds he had found you in, Jungkook felt the familiar rising anger burning his insides. 

He didn’t know what to expect. 

That you would be awake? That you wouldn’t be shivering so much under his covers? 

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. 

“The loss of blood is currently causing the majority of the problem here and I’ll inspect the reasoning of what was used to inflict the cuts on her -”

“Razor,” Jungkook answered him lifelessly. “My razor. Dumped it in the bin already. Found it on the floor of the shower room.”

He could see that his doctor was taken aback. By no means of how he found you and the state that he found you in was ever kept a secret from anybody in this room but if the invisible wounds ran so deep, perhaps it was best if they were to do something before the situation progresses. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “Well then, it is best to ensure that there will be no sharp or hurtful objects or materials around her. A lighter way to put this would be to ‘Bubble wrap her but do not suffocate her’.”

The boys in the room nodded, clearly understanding the meaning behind those words. As the doctor left the room, he each patted them on their shoulder before heading over to the middle of Kim’s office. 

He was their private doctor, working with the Bangtan for over twelve years. Even before their solid establishment, Doctor Eun has been continuously nursing both the boys and their teams back to health every time a situation were to occur. Seeing the harsh world that they were thrown into, Doctor Eun saw first-hand how bad the boys - especially Jungkook - would go when their possessions were taken. 

He had seen the way his youngest looked. The look of pity and anger in his eyes, his stance, and his breathing. He could sense that the girl lying on the bed was no ordinary girl to him and he hoped that Jungkook would not do anything he shouldn’t. 

“Come in.”

Massive fuck you to everyone who is talking about Palestinians as if we’re already all dead and sharing more solidarity with our corpses than us living. “We will never forget the beautiful Palestinian people-“ how about you stop “making peace” with Palestinian extermination. My people are not going to be forgotten because we are going to live. Palestinians have already survived one genocide and have been surviving one ever since.

Do not ever let the idea that all Palestinians are going to die exist in your mind. Mourn the dead, fight like hell for the living.

Festive Feels | KNJ | Diwali Special

Pair: Namjoon x idol!reader

Summary: Namjoon and you go out on the streets of Seoul to celebrate the Festival of Light together for the first time. And as the night sky is adorned with dazzling lights and vibrant colours, illuminated with thousands of oil lamps, you rediscover the meaning of love and your connections. 

Genre: Fluff, idol reader, idol Namjoon, established relationship au

WC: 705

The city was alive with the warm glow of a thousand lights. Booths, people, and glowing lights brighten the heart of South Korea. In Seoul, amongst the vibrant colours and laughter, Namjoon and you walked hand in hand through the streets, enjoying the celebration of the Festival of Lights, Diwali. 

As the both of you walked through the streets, the air was filled with the scents of the festive delicacies and you just couldn’t help but resist the temptation to indulge in some traditional Indian sweets and food. You’re eyes tilted upwards, watching Namjoon savour a piece of Kaju Katli, his eyes lighting up with delight at the sweetness that coated it. 

Kaju Katli is a cashew fudge treat that is terrifically smooth, thin, and melts in your mouth. 

“Oh, this is amazing,” He turned to you, mouth still full as he proclaimed his love for the food. “How have I never tried this before.” 

You chuckled. “Diwali is all about sharing happiness and delicious food with our loved ones. So, this is perfect.” You leaned into his embrace. “Oh… the food.” Just the thought made you salivate.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the real magic of Diwali began. You pulled Namjoon onto a bridge. The cityscape slowly transformed into a wonderland as buildings, homes and streets started to be adorned with countless lights and festive decorations. It felt as if the city came alive for the festival. 

You pulled Namjoon off the bridge, walking in the opposite direction, as the both of you found a quiet corner in a nearby park. People around you were lighting oil lamps and it was tradition to create beautiful rangoli patterns on the ground. Buying a few packets of rice, chalk powder, coloured sand, and flower petals, you headed over to a fairly empty walkway and started. 

The both of you were eager to try your hand at it. Pouring small amounts at a time, colours painted the ground a beautiful shade as you carefully crafted intricate designs. Namjoon watched you intently, occasionally offering a helping hand.  

As you worked, you explained the significance of rangoli to him. “These patterns are meant to bring good luck and ward off evil.” As you finish off another pattern, you continue. “They are also a symbol of hospitality, welcoming guests into our homes.”

Namjoon nodded, his gaze never leaving your hands as you worked skillfully to form a delicate lotus pattern. “I love studying about your traditions and I’m honoured to be a part of your Diwali celebration.”

With the completed rangoli sitting in front of you, the both of you lit up your oil lamps and placed them in the centre. The soft, flickering light created a magical atmosphere and you felt like you were sharing an intimate moment with your beloved amidst the grand celebration around you. 

Children were screaming and adults were working around in the booths - but it felt like your own little bubble of peace.  

As the night sky darkened, the fireworks illuminated the galaxy. You and Namjoon looked up, faces reflecting the vibrant colours and patterns that burst above you. 

“It’s like a starry night but with so much more.” Namjoon remarked, arm coming around your waist to bring you closer to his body. 

You smiled at his analogy. “Diwali is a reminder that light will always triumph over darkness - a time to celebrate new beginnings and the victory of good over evil.”

Namjoon leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m grateful to share this beautiful festival with you and I hope our love can shine as bright as these lights.”

Tilting your head up to meet his vulnerable gaze - your hearts connected. “Namjoon, our love has always been a beacon, guiding us through our darkest times. It was, is, and will always be.”

As you refocused your attention on the fireworks that painted the night sky with radiant colours, you felt a sense of unity and togetherness - reminding you of the beauty of sharing traditions and creating new memories with the one you love. 

At that moment, you realise that loving truly was the most powerful light of all, illuminating your lives with warmth, joy, and endless possibilities. 

Sharing The Moment | MYG

Pair: Yoongi x reader 

Summary: You and your son went to D-Day 3 to support Yoongi. Your son stole the show after appearing on stage and ARMY was absolutely… swooned. 

Genre: fluff, established relationship, parents au, married au

WC: 1169

Before the both of you stepped into the stadium, you could feel the ground vibrating from all the fan’s anticipation. The arena felt alive before the real show even started. It was the last day of Yoongi’s D-Day tour in Seoul and all the fans were there early. Whether is it giving out fanmade gifts, food, or drinks, they - Is that a tangerine in her hand? And is that a whole bag of it?!

The atmosphere was electric but for you, today was something even more special. You were not only here as a fan but also as Yoongi’s family. While ARMY’s certainly had eagle eyes, they have yet to catch on that you weren’t the only surprise that day. Your son, Min Ji-Hye, a carbon copy of his dad, was the source of the surprise. His little body was buzzing with energy. 

Since young, Ji-Hye has looked up to his father’s music and absolutely idolizes him. Every time Yoongi works from home or comes home with new music, Ji-Hye would demand listening to it even if it is the rawest version. Of course, Yoongi tries to keep the cursing to a minimum whenever Ji-Hye is around. 

The both of you found your seats in the middle catalogs which the staff has reserved especially for the both of you. Ensuring that Ji-Hye wouldn’t fall off his bumper seat, you started to set the area for the both of you so that you wouldn’t miss a single second to find some water. You were so engrossed in ensuring that your son had everything he needed that you didn’t realise Jin and Hobi were standing right next to you. 

You jumped when you felt a light tap on your shoulder, immediately turning around with large eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t cause trouble for your husband if you got mobbed or something during his concert. But you found two laughing figures and calmed down once you heard Jin’s signature laugh. 

“Yah, don’t scare me like that!” You chided.

“It was you who weren’t paying attention! We were here the whole time!”

You were about to shoot back another snarky remark when - “Seoul, ARE YOU READY?” 

Cheers from all directions engulfed you as fireworks lit up the stage. Yoongi came blasting from the backstage and no matter how many times you have been to BTS concerts, you never get tired of seeing them perform. The raw passion in their movements and voices always ensures that the audience has one of the best concerts. 

You turned over to see Ji-Hye at the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the stage. You had dressed him in Yoongi’s stage outfit, complete with a cap that looked a few sizes too big (it was taken from Yoongi’s closet). With his cat-like eyes and gummy smile, he was essentially Yoongi 2.0. 

Watching your son sing and jump to the lyrics of his father, your lips curled upwards in a loving smile. While he didn’t quite understand the depth and innuendos of the songs, he was enjoying himself and you knew how much this concert meant to him. With the news of Yoongi’s enlistment, you knew that your time together would be cut short for two years. 

You had told him that telling ARMY a day after the concert wasn’t going to be the best decision but management pulled through so it was scheduled as it is. So both of you continued to enjoy the concert with the new addition of Uncle Namjoon. 

As the music filled the stadium, Yoongi delivered an electrifying performance, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric. His presence on stage was magnetic and the fans were completely enthralled. You thought that you could hold back the tears as he broke down in front of all his fans but the tears streamed down your cheeks, staining them in a salty caress. 

Amidst the sea of fans, Ji-Hye suddenly squirmed and wriggled his way past the people in front of him. Running down the steps, you tried to catch him when Namjoon suddenly grabbed your wrist. “He’s safe, don’t worry. There are guards everywhere.”

But you couldn’t help but worry. What if he got lost? What if fans start to swarm around him and he can’t make it to Yoongi or any of the guards in time? Your heart skipped a beat as you saw his little figure making his way up the stage. There was a collective gasp from the fans nearby as they realised what was happening. 

The surrounding security personnel recognised him and allowed him to approach the stage, guiding him carefully so that he didn’t fall down the large steps. Yoongi had just finished a ‘Life Goes On’ and was taking a moment to catch his breath when he saw little feet running up towards him. His eyes widened and broke out into a huge grin when he saw him, squatting down to his level and spreading his arms. The fans, realising that he was Yoongi’s son, started to cheer even louder. 

The moment Ji-Hye crashed into Yoongi, every ounce of fear that Ji-Hye would be afraid of the cheers washed away in that instance. Yoongi scooped him up, hugging him tightly as your son laughed into the microphone, causing another wave of cheers to vibrate the stadium. It was a moment of pure, unscripted love between a father and his son. You stared at the two most important people in your life on stage, celebrating as if they were the only ones in the world. 

The fans were absolutely swooning - taking in this whole scene with hearty eyes and red faces - their hearts melted by the sheer adorableness of the scene. They watched as Ji-Hye whispered something into Yoongi’s ear and Yoongi’s eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. 

Yoongi turned to the fans, holding Ji-Hye high above his head like the scene from Lion King. “This is my son, Min Ji-Hye.” He announced proudly. “He’s a little ARMY like all of you.”

The fans erupted into cheers, shouting their love for both Yoongi and his son. Ji-Hye waved at the crowd, his gummy smile wide, grinning from ear to ear. Your heart felt so big that it was going to explode. 

As the concert continued, Yoongi held Ji-Hye in his arms, dancing with him on stage during a couple of songs. It was a moment of pure joy and it was clear that this concert had become something extraordinary - not just for the fans but for Yoongi and your family. 

After the concert, Yoongi was still beaming with light as he continued to hold Ji-Hye in his arms. “You know, you stole the show today.” He chuckled to his son.  

Ji-Hye looked up at his father, eyes shining with admiration. “Daddy!” He swung his little legs. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

Yoongi’s heart swelled with love. “You can be anything you want. Just remember to always be yourself.”