Relaxing In Nature

Relaxing in nature

230624 - vogue japan on twitter: Yoongi for VOGUE JAPAN

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Shiner

You've grown to love your emotionally unavailable husband, but part of you wonders if he feels the same about you. The final part of the Vows series, read the rest here.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Genre: Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: Sex, swearing, Yoongi gets a black eye

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6k

You blink yourself awake and stare blankly at the ceiling, trying to orientate yourself.

Yoongi’s bed. You can tell by the smoothness of the white ceiling, and if you widen your senses, by the feel of the soft, crisp sheets under you.

His smell on the pillow under your head.

You gradually become aware of an ache in your jaw, like you’ve been grinding your teeth.

You turn your head to look at the other side of the bed. 

The throbbing headache hits you like a sledgehammer to the temples. You moan a little and close your eyes again, but it doesn’t stop the room from swirling wavily around you.

Oh shit. 

You’re going to be sick.

You leap up, stagger to the bathroom, curl your arm around the cool porcelain of the toilet and hurl.

The contents of your stomach splatter into the water, and you groan again, retching until there’s nothing left inside you but bile.

You look up frantically when you hear footsteps.

Yoongi? 

He’s meant to be on a business trip.

You fumble for the flush and jump up to wash your face.

Your husband’s seen you in all forms of unattractive but he doesn’t need to see you with vomit on your face.

You splash water on your face, look around hurriedly for your toothbrush. 

Just in time.

Yoongi appears around the corner of the bathroom door, nose wrinkled.

‘It smells like sick in here,’ he observes.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise. ‘I’ll get it cleaned up.’

Yoongi approaches you. 

‘I’m not surprised you were sick, considering how drunk you were last night.’

You freeze with your toothbrush in your mouth and goggle at him.

Questions run through your head.

Why is Yoongi back early from his business trip?

How does he know you were out last night?

And finally, why the fuck does your husband have a black eye?

You rinse and spit, open your mouth to ask, but all that comes out is a whimper.

Yoongi looks at you unsympathetically as you press your fingers over your eyeballs.

‘Come on brat, Mrs Gye made us breakfast.’

***

You reach for the toast in the middle of the table and frown, confused, at your bruised knuckles.

The skin’s split over your index, and the rest of your hand is bruised.

Yoongi says, taking a sip of coffee, ‘you throw a mean left hook, wife.’

You gape at Yoongi. 

‘I punched you?’

Yoongi looks at you thoughtfully. ‘Don’t you remember?’

You dredge through the haziness of the night before, trying to remember.

‘Why did I punch you, Yoongi?’

Yoongi gives you a level look. 

‘Think hard, wife.’

You realise Yoongi’s skipped all the endearments he usually uses for you.

In fact, he’s been distant with you all morning.

‘I’m sorry, Yoongi, I can’t remember,’ you plead. ‘Can you tell me?’

Yoongi finishes his coffee, gets up.

‘I have an important meeting in a couple hours,’ he says. ‘I need to get ready.’

As he leaves the room you can’t help but feel you’ve done something terribly wrong.

***

A week earlier

You know Yoongi doesn’t like it when you fuss over him when he leaves for business trips, but you can’t help it this time, when he’ll be gone on the day of your wedding anniversary.

It’s not your first wedding anniversary, you’ve been married for years, but it’s the first one since you proposed to him.

Yoongi had laughed when you pointed it out.

‘You and your romantic heart, jagiya,’ he’d said, affectionately.

You’d laughed at his expression, but you’d felt a pang of disappointment in your chest just the same.

You’d changed the subject quickly, and he hadn’t brought it up again.

Now you’re standing on the front steps of your house in your pyjamas to say goodbye.

‘I might come see you in Bruges,’ you say hopefully, as Yoongi leans in to give you a hug.

‘I wouldn’t bother,’ Yoongi says, practical as always. ‘I’ll be working flat out.’

He studies your expression, and his face softens. 

‘I’ll be back soon enough,’ he promises you.

He lowers his lips to yours, wraps you in his arms.

‘Eat well when I’m gone, ok? Look after yourself.’

‘I will,’ you reply. You reach out for him again, but he’s already stepping away, getting into the car.

You wave him goodbye with your best smile.

***

Your phone lights up in your peripheral vision as you’re getting ready for bed.

You grab it so quickly it flips out of your hands onto the floor.

You swipe quickly. 

Your husband’s beautiful face fills the screen. He’s got one hand loosening his tie as he sits back.

‘Hey,’ you say, teasing. ‘Do I know you?’

Yoongi smiles at you. ‘Forgotten me already? Don’t worry, I left you something to remember me by.’

You tilt your head at him quizzically.

‘Check the bedside drawer, jagiya.’

‘How’d you know where —-‘

‘You always sleep in our room when I go away,’ Yoongi replies briskly. 

‘You don’t know me,’ you mutter, out of habit.

Yoongi just laughs. ‘Go on, check.’

You reach over and pull it open, pick up the gift box and card inside.

‘Open it,’ urges Yoongi.

You tear open the card. 

It’s plain ivory cardstock, with a message in your husband’s familiar, barely legible scrawl.

Happy wedding anniversary. I’m sorry I can’t be there. 

The rush of emotion you feel takes you by surprise.

You flip your screen so he can’t see you blinking away tears.

Yoongi’s voice sounds through your phone.

‘I can hear you sniffling,’ he says, dryly.

‘Allergies,’ you reply.

‘Are you allergic to me being a perfect husband?’ asks Yoongi, sounding completely serious.

You furrow your brow.

‘If the card makes you this emotional, wait until you see the present,’ Yoongi says.

‘I’m opening it now,’ you tell him as you unravel the silver bow and lift the lid.

You’re grateful Yoongi can’t see your face as you stare at the delicate bracelet in the box.

It’s beautiful, expensive, tasteful.

You have no idea why it makes you feel so flat.

You muster up as much enthusiasm as you can as you say, ‘It’s beautiful! Thank you, Yoongi.’

You flip the screen so he can see you.

He looks worried.

‘If it’s not to your taste, jagiya —-‘

‘It’s very beautiful, Yoongi,’ you assure him. You fiddle with the clasp, wrap it around your wrist. ‘I like it a lot.’

You lift your wrist to the camera so he can see.

‘I haven’t got you anything yet,’ you say, worriedly. ‘I was hoping to see you on our anniversary —-‘

Yoongi says, quietly, ‘I’d love to see you, but I can’t promise you much time.’

‘I don’t care if there’s not much time,’ you say. ‘I can take care of myself, Yoongi, I’d love to see you too.’

‘Let’s think about it, ok?’ Yoongi says. ‘We can decide tomorrow.’

Now he sounds tired too.

You feel guilty for pressing when you know he has a lot on his plate.

‘Sure,’ you say, trying to turn the mood of the conversation around.

You smile brightly. ‘Thank you for my gift, Yoongi.’

‘I’m glad you like it, jagi.’

‘I should let you get some sleep.’

He doesn’t protest. 

‘Good night, Yoongi.’

‘Good night.’

***

You and Yoongi never actually agreed that you would fly in to see him, and you feel a twinge of nervousness as you step out of the airport in Ostend.

This close to Christmas, the weather’s chilly, and although it’s early evening, it’s already dark. You wrap your scarf around you as you wait for your car. 

At the hotel, you realise you don’t know Yoongi’s suite number.

You bite your lip nervously as you wait for Yoongi to answer your call.

The dial tone rings out.

You’re trying to decide what to do next when he walks into the hotel.

Your beautiful, polished husband, skin glowing and flushed with cold, his dark hair and eyes in striking contrast, his perfectly fitted navy coat unbuttoned over his perfectly fitted suit, walks in with his media director Park Gyuri.

His stunning ex-model ex-girlfriend Park Gyuri.

Your stomach drops, and it’s at that exact moment that he looks over and sees you.

He blinks at you, open-mouthed, then he’s changed direction and is walking over to you.

‘Jagiya,’ he says, as soon as he’s close enough.

He wraps you in a hug, and you hold him tightly to give yourself time to gather your composure.

You’d known that Gyuri was going to be on his business trip, she and Yoongi travel together often, she’s a core part of his team.

It was one thing knowing it, and another to see them walk in together.

Belatedly you realise the rest of Yoongi’s team have arrived too.

Yoongi pulls back to plant a kiss on your lips, and you hope he can’t feel the hammering of your heart.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ Yoongi says.

You meet his gaze.

Your husband is stunning, of course, but he also looks tired.

‘I hope it’s ok that I came,’ you say. 

You sound formal even to yourself, and Yoongi frowns a little.

‘Of course it’s ok, I’m happy you made it,’ Yoongi tells you.

‘I’m free this evening, we can have dinner together. I’ll get Sungho to make a reservation, ok?’

Yoongi glances around, looking for your bag. ‘Did you bring any luggage, jagiya?’

‘I have to leave tomorrow,’ you tell him. ‘I didn’t bring any pyjamas, is that ok?’

There’s a spark in your husband’s eye. ‘It’s ok, I’ll keep you warm.’

‘That’s what I hoped,’ you say.

Yoongi laughs, grips your hand firmly. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he says, dropping a kiss on your head, and the tightness in your chest finally starts to ease.

***

By the time you step out of the shower, Yoongi’s sprawled out on the huge sofa, so quiet and still you know he’s asleep.

You sit yourself next to him. Like this, his face is at ease, the frown line between his brows that you’ve seen more often lately smoothed out. 

You rarely acknowledge to yourself how much you love him. You’re scared it might be too much.

You run a hand down his chest, and he grunts softly, shifts so he’s flat on his back.

Your hand catches on his belt.

You undo it deftly, because it must be uncomfortable sleeping with a belt on, right?

You don’t really have an excuse for why you undo his suit trousers, apart from that you know your husband wouldn’t mind.

The scritch of his zipper unzipping makes him crack an eye open.

‘Jagiya,’ he says, voice so deep it makes you shiver, ‘what are you up to?’

You look up at him through your lashes.

‘I’m taking care of you Yoongi,’ you tell him. 

You press a kiss to his tummy, right above the waistband of his boxer briefs. ‘Can I?’

Yoongi’s looking at you, eyes darkening as you tug down his waistband, expose him.

‘I had plans for us,’ he says, as you curl your hand around his semi-hard cock.

You smile at him. ‘Me too.’

Yoongi lets out a long breath as you nudge your nose along his cock, breathing in deep.

You take him in your mouth, tongue against the underside of him, sucking a little, enjoying the way he swells up for you.

Yoongi’s got his head back against the back of the sofa, throat working as he reaches full erection. He moves his hips under you, grasps your shoulder.

You reach out to his hand, splayed on the sofa, and knit your fingers through it. 

If you were looking at his face, you’d see Yoongi’s expression change, the tenderness in his expression as he squeezes your fingers gently. 

You’re not, you’re looking at his cock, all your attention set on giving him as much pleasure as you can. 

He’s hard, and you can feel the way he jerks as you undo the tie on your robe to reveal that you’re bare underneath it. 

You tug your hand away from his so he can touch you, well you try to, but Yoongi holds on to you. 

He murmurs ‘jagi’ on a sigh, his voice beautiful like this, deep, mellow, rich. 

You glance up at him, and he’s watching you, his dark eyes so intense you don’t want to look away. 

You pull away, and his hips rise, as if to follow. 

‘Make me messy, oppa,’ you say. 

Yoongi smiles, wolfish, a flash of teeth. ‘Come sit on me.’ 

He unbuttons his shirt because he knows you like it when he’s bare-chested, reaches to steady your hips as you climb on top of him, like you’ve done so many times before. 

He tugs your robe off your shoulders, slides his hand under, his hand warm against your skin. 

He hisses through his teeth as you start to move. 

‘I’ve missed you,’ he tells you as he runs his hand over your front, making your nipples peak, pinching, kneading your flesh. 

‘Yeah?’ you say. 

There’s an unwanted flash in your mind, the image of him and Park Gyuri walking into the hotel. 

You push it away. 

‘I always miss you,’ Yoongi says. 

‘Don’t be romantic, Yoongi, it’s not your style,’ you say, teasing. 

If there’s a tug at your heart when you say it, you hope it doesn’t show on your face. 

Yoongi says, quietly, ‘I’ll be as romantic as you want me to be, jagiya.’ 

You can’t look at him, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s been rubbing his thumb over your clit, doing something with his hips that’s pulling you out of your feelings and into a tide of pleasure. 

You moan, deep, and Yoongi grunts, lifts his head to suck the tip of your breast into his mouth. 

You come with a cry of his name, and Yoongi groans. ‘That’s my girl, fuck.’ 

He utters your name, stretched out, over stuttering breaths, and you realise he’s coming too. 

When your breathing slows and your heartrate settles you realise that he’s still holding your hand.

***

You wake, with a start, to your alarm alerting you to the fact that you’ll miss your flight home if you don’t haul ass. 

Yoongi, beside you, is turned away, his back to you. 

The regularity of his breathing tells you he’s still asleep. 

You get dressed, and sit on the edge of his side of the bed to say goodbye. 

He’s always been beautiful, your husband, but he also looks so tired you haven’t the heart to wake him. He hasn’t stirred the entire time you’ve been getting ready. 

You press a kiss to his cheek and make your way out of the hotel room. 

***

Your best friend Nara’s always been on your side, supporting you in the best ways. When you and Yoongi were estranged in the early years of your marriage, she helped you plot some of your more elaborate stunts. 

It’s always worked both ways, of course, you were the first to support her design house, wearing her creations to all the most high-profile society events, backing her financially when her family threatened to cut her off for not going into the family business. 

Nara’s always been the practical one, the shrewd business mind to your impulsive nature, providing balance. You’re an effective combination, and before your reconciliation, Yoongi had borne the brunt of your antics. 

You’ve always marvelled at the way he’s never tried to reciprocate. 

Nara eyes you over your cocktail. 

‘What did Yoongi do now?’ she asks. ‘I thought he’d be thrilled to see you in Bruges.’ 

‘He was happy to see me,’ you tell her. This much you know, that he had been pleased to see you. You wish you’d been able to spend more time with him, but he’d said from the beginning that he’d been busy.

‘Gyuri was with him.’ 

Nara blinks. ‘She’s part of his team.’ 

Her statement is blunt, factual, but there’s sympathy in her eyes. 

You down the rest of your cocktail. 

‘You can never trust chaebol sons,’ says Nara, gently, ‘we grew up with enough assholes that we know that.’ 

You signal the waiter for a refill. 

‘But Yoongi is less of an asshole than the rest,’ Nara concedes. ‘Not like that fucking Kim Seokjin.’ 

You choke on the water you’ve just taken a sip of. 

‘You never did say what happened after you and Seokjin went to see Lee Sangcheol,’ Nara says, raising an eyebrow. 

‘We’re gonna need more drinks,’ you sigh. 

Five cocktails in, you’re watching with drunken amusement as Nara takes apart a hapless would-be suitor with her razor sharp wit. 

Unlike you, Nara’s tolerance for alcohol is legendary. 

You? 

The room’s dim and wavy around the edges, and you’re feeling maudlin about your trip to visit Yoongi. 

You look up, blinking curiously, as a man approaches you. 

He looks vaguely familiar, in fact he looks like your husband, but you’ve been seeing shades of Yoongi in almost everyone in this bar tonight. 

God, you miss him so much. 

***

Yoongi can tell by the way you’re holding yourself rigidly upright that you’re drunk. 

You look up at him, no recognition in your eyes. 

Yoongi nods to Nara and turns back to you. 

‘Would you like some water?’ he offers, signalling to the waiter. 

‘No thank you,’ you reply. ‘I’d like another cocktail.’ 

Yoongi orders you both a refill and some water. 

Your wedding ring sparkles as you lift the glass to your lips. 

Yoongi’s vaguely amused to see that you chose to drink water first. 

‘Are you having a nice time?’ he asks. 

You consider his question carefully. 

‘Yes, my friend and I are having a great night,’ you reply, finally. ‘And yourself?’ 

‘I’m not usually out at this time,’ Yoongi replies, honestly. ‘This is a rarity for me.’ 

‘Ah,’ you say, looking at him with interest. ‘What’s the occasion?’ 

You still haven’t acknowledged him with anything other than politeness, and Yoongi realises, with a flash of clarity, that you’re so intoxicated you don’t recognise him. 

‘I wanted to support a friend,’ he answers. He guesses it’s true, at least this way Nara won’t be responsible for getting you home tonight. 

You glance fondly at Nara. ‘Friendship is important.’ 

You smile at him for the first time. ‘Where’s your friend?’ 

‘Ah, they’re busy.’ 

You’re steadily sipping your way through the rest of your cocktail. 

‘You’re very beautiful,’ Yoongi says, neutral. 

‘Thank you,’ you reply. ‘You’re very good looking yourself. I’m sure if you’re looking for company, you won’t be short of offers.’ 

Yoongi swallows a laugh at your encouragement. 

‘Can you keep me company?’ he asks. 

‘Ah sorry, it’s girl’s night,’ you say, still polite. ‘Also I’m married.’ 

‘He’s a lucky man,’ Yoongi says. 

You smile. ‘I’m not sure he’d agree,’ you say, lightly. There’s a note of melancholy in your voice that makes Yoongi look at you carefully. 

‘Oh, I just mean I’m a terrible wife,’ you clarify. ‘I’ve done some awful things to him.’ 

Yoongi pours you more water. 

‘Whatever you’ve done, it can’t be that bad,’ he offers. 

You scoff, and he bites back a smile as you look at him scornfully. 

‘I’m capable of extremely terrible things,’ you insist. 

Helplessly endeared by your solemn, drunken expression, Yoongi touches your face. 

‘Do you really not recognise me, jagiya?’ he asks. 

You jerk away from his hand, nearly lose your balance. 

Yoongi pulls you into his arms to stop you from falling. 

He hears your gasp of outrage, and a moment later, the crack of skin against skin. 

Even through the flare of pain, Yoongi’s stunned at the realisation that you’ve just punched him in the face. 

***

Present day

By the end of the day, Yoongi realises he hasn’t heard anything from you all afternoon. 

He heads to your rooms, knocks on the door tentatively. 

When there’s no response, he pushes the door open anyway. 

You’re sitting curled up on the floor, leaning against your bed, facing the patio doors. 

As he approaches you, you grimace. ‘Stay away, I’m probably contagious.’ 

Yoongi takes in the clamminess of your skin, the way your hair’s stuck to your forehead. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling ill? Have you been like this all day?’ 

He’s concerned, but he can see the way you flinch a little at the harshness of his voice. 

‘I’m fine, Yoongi, I drank too much and my head hurts.’ 

‘Seems like more than a hangover,’ Yoongi says. He brushes your hair back from your face. ‘Have you taken any meds?’ 

You gesture sadly towards the dressing table, barely six feet away. 

‘Everytime I move, the room spins,’ you tell him. 

Yoongi frowns. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling so bad? Come on, get into bed.’ 

‘I can’t,’ you tell him. ‘I’ll be sick if I move.’ 

‘You can’t stay like this,’ Yoongi says, exasperated. 

‘Stop scolding me,’ you mumble, closing your eyes. ‘Go away.’ 

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Yoongi says. He takes a breath. ‘You shouldn’t drink so much.’ 

‘It was you,’ you say, suddenly. ‘It was you who groped me at the bar last night.’ 

Yoongi’s outraged. ‘I didn’t grope you, I tried to stop you from falling!’ 

‘You touched my face!’ you complain. ‘I thought you were a stranger.’ 

‘At least I don’t have to worry about you looking after yourself,’ Yoongi muses. ‘You can beat up anyone who comes on to you.’ 

‘Damn right,’ you agree. 

Yoongi sighs. ‘I’m going to get you some water and meds and then I’m going to put you to bed, ok? Can I do that, or are you going to punch me again?’ 

‘Just don’t grope me,’ you warn. 

‘You recognise me now don’t you? You never complained about me groping you before,’ Yoongi points out. 

‘Stop scolding me!’ 

‘I’m not —’ 

Yoongi huffs out a breath. ‘I promise I won’t grope you if you promise not to punch me.’ 

‘My hand hurts,’ you whine. 

‘You want sympathy?’ asks Yoongi, unsympathetically. 

He sighs. ‘Wait here. Let me get you a drink.’ 

‘Gin and tonic,’ you mutter. 

Yoongi ignores you. 

***

Yoongi’s trying to finish reading the specs his product development team has sent him, but it’s difficult to concentrate.

There’s something weighing on his mind.

It’s you, which isn’t unusual, but what is unusual is the way he feels. 

Uneasy, like he’s missing something.

There’s a knock on his study door.

‘Dinner in fifteen?’ you ask, peering around the heavy oak.

You look very pretty today, Yoongi notes to himself. 

You’re already closing the door when he calls, ‘Hey.’

You look at him enquiringly. 

‘You look pretty.’

You smooth your hand over your hip self-consciously. ‘I feel better.’

‘I was worried about you,’ Yoongi tells you.

You gesture vaguely to his face. ‘Your eye looks better.’

‘Come kiss it,’ Yoongi says. 

It always amuses him, the way you get a little flustered when he asks for affection.

Yoongi pushes away from his desk as you approach him.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, softly, as you cup his face and press a gentle kiss to his brow.

‘I deserved it,’ Yoongi replies. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t around for our wedding anniversary. I know that it mattered to you.’

‘It was silly,’ you say, but he can tell by the way you drop your gaze that he’s touched a nerve.

‘It’s not silly, of course you want to celebrate being married to me,’ Yoongi says.

You scoff. ‘You want two black eyes instead of one?’

Yoongi reaches for your hand, presses a kiss to your still-bruised knuckles. 

‘Don’t break your hand on my hard skull,’ he says, very gently.

‘I have a company dinner next week,’ you say, in an obvious attempt to hide how flustered you are.

Yoongi says, ‘Are you asking me to accompany you?’

You blink at him. ‘Would you like to?’

‘I’d love to,’ Yoongi tells you. 

***

You fiddle with the clasp of the stunning bracelet Yoongi gave you for your anniversary.

Objectively, it’s perfect, the diamonds sparkling like stars even in the flattering low lighting of the ballroom at this wedding Yoongi and you have been invited to. 

You’re trying not to think too much about why it leaves you feeling so empty.

He’d clearly spared no expense, you’ve seen this exact bracelet in the pages of a glossy magazine, and the workmanship is incomparable.

Yoongi’s voice makes you look up. 

‘They’re cutting the cake,’ he murmurs to you. ‘We should head back to our table.’

‘I’ll meet you there,’ you tell him. ‘Save me some.’

You head for the ladies room to compose yourself and touch up your makeup.

You’re retouching your lipstick when one of the doors opens, and Park Gyuri walks out.

She smiles when she sees you, nods a greeting. She takes the sink next to yours, and as she unclasps her purse a fiery sparkle draws your attention.

On her left wrist, a bracelet identical to yours.

It’s beautiful, you think it suits her better than it does you.

Now you know why the bracelet’s been bothering you as much as it has.

It represents everything about the chaebol life both you and Yoongi were born into, but though your husband seems perfectly at home in this microcosm, you’ve never truly felt like you belonged.

It makes you feel like Yoongi sees you as someone you’re not, and by extrapolation, that he doesn’t know you as well as he should, despite all you’ve been through.

As well as you want him to.

You force a smile at Gyuri, make yourself walk on legs that feel oddly stiff to exit the bathroom.

Back at your table, Yoongi rises to pull your chair out as you approach. Something in your expression makes him lean closer, voice low and worried.

‘Jagi, are you feeling ok?’

You nod, the smile on your face so frozen it feels like a rictus, a caricature of happiness.

You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, but you don’t think you can give him anything else right now, stricken as you are.

His hand finds yours under the table, and you draw comfort from his touch until the hurt and anger recedes and the tears retreat from behind your eyelids.

***

You’re not sure what’s changed, but Yoongi’s been so attentive lately it’s starting to make you feel uneasy. 

You’re trying to zip up the back of your cocktail dress, and before you can even look in his direction, he’s behind you, hands warm on your bare back as he helps you with the zip. 

You turn around, look him in the face. 

‘What’s up, husband?’ 

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. ‘You seemed like you couldn’t reach.’ 

‘Not the zip,’ you say, testy. ‘Why are you so —’ 

Yoongi waits, like he genuinely doesn’t know why you’re so tetchy. 

‘Why are you paying me so much attention? I swear, I’m not plotting anything.’ 

Yoongi looks like he’s trying not to smile. 

‘I don’t think you’re plotting anything.’ 

‘Then why?’ 

‘Why can’t I pay you attention?’ Yoongi asks. ‘We’re married.’ 

‘You never paid me this much attention before,’ you point out. 

Yoongi’s brow furrows. ‘Do you want me to ignore you?’ 

‘Yeah.’ You wave a hand. ‘Go back to ignoring me.’ 

‘Do you really want that?’ Yoongi asks. He glances in the mirror, straightens his tie. 

‘I like asshole Yoongi,’ you tell him. 

Your eyes meet in the mirror. 

‘I can be an asshole,’ Yoongi says, finally. ‘But I don’t want you to be unhappy because of me.’ 

‘Since when do you care?’ you say, teasing. 

Yoongi sighs. ‘I’ve always cared. I don’t like it when you’re sick and you don’t tell me, and I sure as hell don’t like it when you’re unhappy and don’t tell me why.’ 

‘You make me happy,’ you tell him. There’s a fluttering in your chest at his words, your taciturn, coolly detached husband isn’t normally this expressive. 

‘I’m glad, because you make me happy too.’ 

Yoongi glances at the bracelet he got you, that you’ve got ready to put on. 

‘Don’t wear that,’ he says. ‘You won’t tell me why, but I know you hate it.’ 

You stare at him. 

‘Don’t deny it,’ Yoongi says. He gives you a look, a challenge in his eyes. 

‘You don’t know me,’ you mutter, out of habit. 

Yoongi rolls his eyes. ‘I do know you, wife, and that’s the problem. You’re a brat.’ 

You scowl at him. Yoongi looks supremely unmoved by your pique. 

‘Come on, I don’t want us to be late for your company dinner.’ 

He takes the liberty of slapping his palm against your ass as he ushers you out of the door, and you don’t even have it in you to pretend to be mad about it. 

***

Yoongi’s by the bar, waiting to be served, watching idly as you converse with your social media team. 

He’s never been to one of your company events before, it’s rare that you invite him, and he likes seeing you with your colleagues. 

You’re well-liked, everyone seems to want to talk to you. 

He’s trying to suppress the urge to pull you into a corner and kiss you silly, because you look so pretty when you’re smiling and confident like this, when a conversation catches his ear. 

‘I’m pretty surprised that Min Yoongi’s here – I thought they were estranged,’ says a woman by the bar. 

‘Everyone knows he’s fucking Park Gyuri,’ says the man next to her, with a casual cruelty that makes Yoongi’s hand itch to slap him. 

Yoongi steps out in front of them, levels them with a look. 

‘I’m not fucking anyone apart from my wife,’ he says, mildly. ‘Although I fail to see how that’s anyone’s business but ours.’ 

There’s a stir, but Yoongi’s lost interest. He turns away from the bar, heads straight for where you are in the middle of the room. 

The smile on your face when you see him does a lot to curb his irritation. 

‘Yoongi,’ you say, hand on his arm. ‘They’re about to serve food.’ 

Your touch eases his annoyance, soothes him the way it always has. 

‘Let’s get you something to eat, jagiya,’ Yoongi says. 

He holds out his arm, feeling the familiar sense of connection thrumming through him as you slip your hand in the crook of it. 

It’s everything. 

***

Yoongi pulls out of the hotel, signals to turn towards home. 

‘Did you have a nice time, Yoongi?’ you ask. 

You’re leaning back against the seat, face tilted to his, half-shadowed in the darkness of the car. 

‘I liked it,’ Yoongi replies. ‘You should invite me to more of these things.’ 

‘You’re welcome to come anytime,’ you say. 

‘I will,’ Yoongi says. 

‘I heard that you stood up for us at the bar,’ you begin, a little hesitant. 

Yoongi glances at you in the rearview mirror. 

‘You know about that?’ he asks, quietly. 

‘People talk a lot of shit,’ you say. Yoongi doesn’t know if you’re consciously doing it, but your shoulders are squared, and there’s a stubborn tilt to your chin now. 

He’s never loved you more. 

‘They do,’ agrees Yoongi. 

You’re both quiet as he drives. 

It’s only when he parks up, at your home, that you speak again. 

‘Thank you for coming with me,’ you say. 

There’s a beat, two of searing eye contact.

Then Yoongi reaches out, cups the back of your head, and takes the kiss he’s wanted all night. 

You melt into his arms like you’ve been waiting for exactly this. 

‘Let’s go to bed,’ Yoongi murmurs, lips against your skin. 

***

Yoongi’s different tonight, holding you with an urgency you haven’t felt from him before. He’s focused completely on you, and as much as you love it, love him, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something behind it. 

You cup his face as he leans over you. 

‘Hey,’ you say. ‘You know we have all night?’ 

Yoongi’s hand stills on your side. 

‘Am I rushing?’ 

‘I’m just saying I’m here, Yoongi, I’m not going anywhere.’ 

Yoongi closes his eyes, leans into your hand, shudders out a breath. 

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask. ‘Is there a game on you don’t want to miss?’ 

Yoongi doesn’t even crack a smile. 

‘Do you love me?’ 

You blink at his question. ‘What?’ 

Yoongi waits. 

‘I don’t hate you,’ you say, trying to inject some levity into the situation because his seriousness is scaring you. 

Yoongi drops his head, groans into your neck. 

‘I love you,’ you assure him. You roll your hips under his. ‘I don’t put out for just any chaebol asshole.’ 

Yoongi lifts his head, searches your face. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he says. 

‘That’s true,’ you say airily as he kisses his way down your neck. 

His mouth skims over the skin of your sternum, lips soft, reverent. 

‘Aren’t you going to ask me if I love you?’ he asks, lips poised over the round of your breast. 

His question pulls you out of your pleasured haze. 

Again, the image of Yoongi and Park Gyuri flashes into your head. 

The truth is, you’re too scared to ask. You know, in your heart, that you would love Yoongi no matter what, and you’re not ready to face that truth right now. 

So you smile at your husband and say, ‘Just show me.’ 

He does. 

***

You’re passing by Yoongi’s study when you notice the door is ajar. 

Yoongi raises a brow at you. ‘Come in, I have something for you.’ 

You frown at him suspiciously. ‘Is it your dick?’ 

Yoongi says, ‘Always, but I have something else too.’ 

You take a seat next to him on the sofa you always sit together on when you visit him. 

Yoongi reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, hands you a jewelry box. 

You meet his gaze apprehensively. 

‘Is it a matching necklace?’ 

Yoongi just shakes his head. ‘Open it.’ 

You lift the lid on the box, and stop. 

It’s another bracelet, except this one is exquisitely carved jade, delicate and so perfect you’re afraid to touch it. 

Yoongi says, quietly, ‘I got this and the other bracelet at the same time. I chose the other one to give to you, but this one’s always reminded me more of you.’ 

You blink up at him. ‘Yoongi, it’s perfect.’ 

‘I know you like jade,’ Yoongi says. He picks up the bracelet, and you hold out your wrist as he clasps the bracelet around it. 

‘It reminds me of my mother,’ you say. 

Yoongi’s hands are gentle on your wrist. 

You catch sight of a sheet of note card under the silken lining of the box. 

It’s a list, in your husband’s handwriting. 

‘What’s this?’ you ask, skimming through it, curious. 

‘Didn’t you make one like this, a couple years ago?’ Yoongi asks. He’s not looking at you now. ‘It’s all the things I have to make up to you.’ 

Your heart stops. 

Thoughts race through your head, you can barely see the words on the card even though his handwriting is neat, beautiful. 

You’ve never asked him the question in your heart, and your husband’s answered it anyway. 

He knows you better than you ever thought he did. 

You press your lips together, trying to hold back the tears. 

‘I didn’t write them down,’ you say, finally. ‘I just worked off the top of my head.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi asks. He’s leaning close now, so close that if you turned your face your lips would meet. 

‘Yeah.’

Yoongi says, ‘I’m not sure what order to do them in. Can you help?’ 

You turn into his kiss, and it’s as lovely as it ever was. 

God, you love him. 

‘Yeah, I can help you with that,’ you tell him. 

You can feel the curve of his lips against yours, the rumble of amusement in his chest. 

‘Great. We should get started,’ he murmurs against your skin. ‘I need to win your heart, because I really don’t think any of this is worth it, without you.’ 

‘Goddamn it, Yoongi, looks like you’re a romantic after all,’ you tease. 

Yoongi reaches out, thumbs the tears off your cheeks. 

‘Looks like you’ve made me into one,’ he agrees. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

KING OF WISHFUL THINKING

Yoongi is your boyfriend’s roommate, but sometimes he wishes he could be more than that.

word count: 11k genre: some angst/smut

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Had a big flop of a date and I'm sad.

Need a bff Yoongi that listens to your wallowing and tells you you don't need to be getting your feelings hurt by other dumb boys because he's RIGHT HERE and he's ready to give you everything you need )))):

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: You’re tired of the revolving door of boys in your life. Yoongi is tired of watching you nurse feelings in the quiet of your apartment. 

❀ Word Count: 1,406

❀ Genre: Friends to something more, a little angst, fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: A little bit of angst, descriptions of loneliness and frustrations on dating, a little bit of insecurity, Hali’s Obnoxious Takes on Dating in 2023, a cute lil kiss, nothing too crazy

❀ Published: August 18, 2023

❀ A/N: Pardon me while I wax poetic about the current state of dating, especially with all these damn apps in the world. I hope this was able to capture how you felt in a way that feels authentic and then shatter it and make it better by offering a very sweet Yoongi ready to date you. I am so sorry your date was shitty, genuinely this is why I do not go on them!!!! This is currently unedited.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

Outside of your apartment window, the world is washed in gold. As the sun sets, you wish you could appreciate it a little more. The world looks beautiful outside, buildings like hammered bronze in the light, curtains lit up like a flame as they catch the rays of sun.

You look away from it, staring at your TV that is turned off instead. It’s silent in your apartment, the hum of the refrigerator the only noise. With your legs crossed on the couch, you tap your nails against the steaming mug of tea in your hands.

Sitting. Waiting. 

In another life, you’d perhaps be out on a date on account of the nice evening. The cool autumn air drifts through the cracked window, carrying the scent of possibility.

The only dates you’ve been on usually go two ways: they end in blocked numbers after uncomfortable interactions, or hurt feelings after being strung along for a few dates before eventually sending unanswered texts. 

It makes sense that dating is hard, but no one ever told you it would be this hard, trying to swim in a rushing river of dating apps, men who use therapy-speak to excuse their bad behavior, and people who have no accountability for others feelings. 

The sound of the front door opening brings you out of your melancholy daze. Yoongi walks in with a bag of takeout, immediately filling your apartment with the smell of fried wontons and the distinct hint of soy sauce. 

For the first time that day, you grin, unfolding from your spot on the couch and heading to wear Yoongi throws you a nod, already unbagging the food. You move wordlessly in tandem, grabbing drinks from your fridge with extra sauce and napkins. By the time you’ve returned to the counter to sit, Yoongi is already on his self-appointed stool, holding out his hand for chopsticks. 

This is what you need, you think as you pass them over. Someone who can speak to you without words, someone who just knows. Knows that when you sit down next to him, you need him to lean over and press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s affection between friends, but it makes your heart flip. It always does, and you always ignore it.

“Talk to me about it,” Yoongi says, picking up a saucy strip of beef. “I want to hear about it.”

He doesn’t. Yoongi doesn’t say these things for his benefit. He says them because he knows that you’re too afraid of being inconvenient or annoying to speak the thoughts rolling around your head. His instincts are spot on - you do want to let out what’s inside of you, and the gentle encouragement that he wants to hear it does the trick.

“I guess I just don’t know what the point is,” you start, staring at your rice. “I really want a partner and someone that I can do life with or whatever so I’m less lonely, but I’m also so sick of first dates and having to play a game of social chess.”

“Dating in this era is impossible,” Yoongi agrees. “There’s a lot of very unempathetic and unaware individuals.”

“Exactly. Or people think they have endless options and it’s like, just because someone is in your DMs telling you that you look nice doesn’t mean that’s a potential suitor. It just means someone thinks you’re hot.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so the last guy basically told me that he wanted to keep his options open because he has options. And it got me thinking: do people actually have all these options for life partners, or is it just people who are giving them attention online?”

“I see.”

“Online clout is not the same as a relationship option,” you conclude. “And I’m tired of people confusing the two. Or getting people who think it’s cool not to care about their partner or who use weaponized therapy words at me to avoid accountability. I had some guy tell me he was setting a boundary for me on monogamy and that me being interested in a one-on-one relationship was a violation of his feelings and that I need to be open.”

Yoongi stops eating and looks at  you. His mouth presses in a firm line, the only sign that he’s truly irritated. “Did he say that before you started to go on dates?”

“Nope. Only later when I became invested.”

“Then it’s bullshit,” Yoongi scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re interested in different things, not violating a boundary. What an asshole.”

“They all are.”

Groaning, you press your forehead to your palm, supporting the weight of your head with your elbow on the counter. You hate this. Hate the way it all makes you feel, hate that you want something so bad but it seems just out of your reach, hate that you’d love to find someone like Yoongi.

Once, you’d thought about asking him. You’d decided that your friendship was more important, because without him, who is there? 

Now you look for someone - anyone - to do the bare minimum. To not make it feel like you’re searching for a needle in a haystack the size of Olympus, or like you’re being irrational for wanting human decency. 

“I’m not,” Yoongi says softly. You hum a question, confused as to what he’s talking about. “An asshole,” he clarifies. “I’m not an asshole.” 

“Well I know that. But I’m not dating you.”

“So try it, then.”

You lift your head from your palm, looking at him sharply. Yoongi isn’t much in the way of poking fun at you - not in a way that is really at your expense. He doesn’t seem to be joking now, staring at you with honest, brown eyes, chewing his lip. 

“What?” 

“I said what I said.” He drops his gaze for a second - perhaps towards your lips - and meets your eyes again. Your heart speeds up, thudding against your ribcage. “So try dating me.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

He scowls. “Of course I’m not. I’m being serious.”

“You want to go on a date with me?” He nods. “Why?”

Blowing out a long exhale of air, Yoongi shrugs. The golden light from the sunset hits him at just the right moment, then. He’s wreathed in gold, a shining beacon of hope. Of an answer. Of something more. You lick your lips as Yoongi considers his answer. 

“Because I like you, for starters,” he says, giving you a look. A look that means he thinks you’ve asked a silly question. “Because I think that you are wonderful and creative, and a gentle soul. Because I think you deserve someone who is interested in working on something with you, and who won’t flee at the first sign of conflict. Because I empathize with you, I enjoy doing life with you, and because you’re beautiful.”

Any worry you’ve had about your feelings for Yoongi comes to a standstill. There, in your apartment, in the honey-haze of evening, you drop your chopsticks and press forward. Curious, a little bold, a little terrified. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath of air when he realizes what you’re doing, but he lets you anyway. 

Yoongi’s lips are soft. He tastes a little like soy sauce and sweet and sour, but you don’t care. Your heart thrums in your chest and your hands shake when you lift them to cradle his face. His hands go to your waist, holding you confidently, like they were made to fit there. 

Warmth blooms inside of your chest, unfurling dizzy petals as you pull your lips away from his. You don’t know where you got the bravery, but as your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze, deep and unwavering, you realize you don’t know why you were ever scared to consider him. 

Yoongi has always been right there. Holding your hand when you were lonely, offering a joke when you were sad. There have been countless times you could have had this, you realize. Little moments where the tension grew too thick or your gazes lingered too long. 

It’s only until now that someone was brave enough to say something. 

“Okay,” you breathe, fingers gentle against his warm face. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “It’s really that easy, huh?”

“It always was. I was always right here.”

You press your lips against his again, chaste and sweet. 

“You’re right. You were always right here.”