Eunoia // Stories

Eunoia // Stories

Summary: Yoongi’s POV from the last scene of chapter 24 in Eunoia

Word Count: 1.004

The house was a ghost of what it had once been. It was clear no one had lived there for a long time. It had been abandoned to the mercy of the elements and the forest, becoming one with the trees. It looked like it belonged there, like it had been made to be a part of the forest. 

“I discovered this on my first trip to the lake. There is something compelling about it that makes you want to learn more about it, about the story behind it,” you said. “Who it belonged to, why it is abandoned.”

“Everything is about stories to you,” Yoongi observed. 

You were full of them, they glittered and danced at your fingertips. You crafted and chiseled stories like a sculptor shaped clay. He remembered the stories you used to tell Hoseok when you treated his injuries to distract him from the pain. Tens of them piling and pulling at him. He had ignored it then. He couldn’t give in because of a few stories that fell like liquid gold from your lips. Your stories had seemed like traps then, something to pull them in and cage them forever. 

Regardless, he remembered all of them. As hard as he had tried to pretend he didn’t care, he had listened to you like an enchanted man.

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Before I Leave You (Pt.48)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The day after your doctor’s appointment Jin gives you your first hole check.  

Tags: Smut, fingering, daddy kink, mommy kink, daddy Jinnie, sub! reader, mommy! tae, Inspection kink, squirting orgasams, omegaspace, implied fucking in omegaspace, kink negotiations, grinding, frottage, fluff, comfort, trans characters, Trans! Taehyung, mentions of Tae’s dick, breif implied public sex, handjobs, breeding kink, implied fucking in omegaspace 

W/c: 8.1k

A/n: ah you know, life’s just been lifin’ right now for me, does anyone else feel like the earth is kinda? apocalyptic these days? to be honest, Bily hasn’t been like…keeping up with my expectations, leaving feedback and love really helps me feel better and keep up my motivation to finish this story <3 

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

The day after your doctor’s appointment Jin gives you your first hole check. 

You shouldn’t be too surprised; the new information about your slick has him nervous. It’s his job as pack omega to make sure that your sex lives aren’t too affected by this and any interruption.  

So after your doctor’s appointment, Namjoon and Jin sat the rest of them down and told them what to expect. Any thoughts of keeping it private were quickly squashed; It shouldn’t be a secret between the four of you- the others need to know before you take that step with the other alphas.

If you decide to take that step with them. You know it’s only a matter of time with Jimin and Tae but you doubt you’ll ever get there with Hobi. You don’t need to keep this a secret from him. It’s embarrassing sure but that’s the least of your worries.  

It isn’t like Namjoon’s warning them, and yet- it sort of feels that way. 

Jimin had gone a little wolfish, his scent growing thick and musky. Whatever blush Tae had was quickly camouflaged in her powdery cheeks. Namjoon had been almost a little too clinical about it; their minds hadn’t had too much time to wander. Apparently, your deformity (it’s not that sweetheart) was rare enough to warrant Namjoon’s bright-eyed curiosity. Trust Namjoon to bumble over his papers, talking quickly getting into the particulars in a way that had you whining trying not to get annoyed with him-

“Joonie, I love you but please don’t talk about my pussy like that." 

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baby (you complete us) 3

C H A P T E R   T H R E E

summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

chapter warnings: lotssss of angst (ofc), nervous mc, nervous bangtan, insecure mc, breakdowns, not much

*words in italics are spoken in Korean*

masterlist // chapter 2 // chapter 4 

taglist: @imnotlauriane​  @mageprincess7​ @m1sss1mp​ @0funsite0​  @strawberry-moonpies​ @this-isthe-way​ @singukieee​ @btsw1fe​ @gooooomz​  @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @carolinexkpop​ @agusfree​ @sakurarukas​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @skyys-universe​ @toughbook​ @plutoneu​ @whisperssuga​ @welcometomyworld13​ @yuzon3​ @wittyreader​ @jnghs​ @cyd0129​ @exfolitae​​ @queen-in-the-shadows​​ @nen-nyy​​ @pandxthings​​ @schniti-is-in-the-house​​ @juju-227592​​ @jinseartharmysmoon​​ @wooya1224​​ @ddaeng-angmoh​​ @gratefullygrateful​​ @rorythme​​ @gratefullygrateful​​ @kimrona​​ @jjjj-ssi​​ @maysgarden​​ @lovelgirl22​​ @doublebunv​​ @reallysparklychaos​​ @jayjayy-57​​

permanent taglist: @yourleftsock​​​ @cryingpages​​​ @strxwbloody​​​  @drissteele​​​ @dustyinkpages​​​ @crushedblackroses​​​  @blaaiissee​​​  @iiitsmaria​​​  @azazel-nyx​​​  @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​​​ @knjkitten​​​ @kleirielk​​​ @foreverweareyoung7​​​ @lachimolala22019​​​ @namuficxs​​​ @94z-93​​​ @kimgmzmc​​​ @thenaverse​​​ @veronawrites​​ @dahliasbouqet​​ @black-rose-29​​ @tinyoonsblog​​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​​ @stellauniverse​​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​​ @tinyoonsblog​​  @tatyhend​​ 

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Previously on baby (you complete us):

You clicked on the messages first, tears coming to your eyes as you scrolled all the way to the top, replies waiting to be clicked on for every single one of the messages you have sent over the past ten years.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, needing to rub your tired eyes more than once as English and Korean replies were sent, responding to each and every one of your own messages. Hundreds of apologies written as you scrolled, each one sorry for waiting so long to wear their bracelets.

You moved over to the ‘matches’ button, needing to confirm with your own thoughts what was happening. And there it was, seven matches, their profile pictures and names only confirmed that you were the missing soulmate to BTS.

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some horror smut with seokjin pls 😭 ppl barely ever write about him

tysm to my 🐋 angel for providing inspiration and supporting me... thank you to @baalsgurl1913 for reading through this and guiding me with her love. and thank you to @yoongsisbae for helping me choose the right direction <3 I am... so sorry for what I am subjecting y'all to lmao

pairing: jin x reader

genre: romance, ghost!au

warnings: mentions of blood and violence (not towards the reader), multiple deaths (+ major character death), implied murder, cheating (not by jin), supernatural elements (hauntings, afterlife), mentions of medication, manipulation and obsession, implied mental and physical torture (agsffhsgsh rip minho), angst, comfort, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, mentions of spanking, choking, creampie

¶

"Does it help?"

So cold. His hand felt so cold as it brushed through your hair.

"Does it help you move on? To feel like you've buried me?"

Unable to turn around and look at him - or whatever that thing was - you pulled your knees up to your chest and hid your face in them.

"I did," you whispered. To convince him or yourself, you weren't sure. "I did bury you."

Like a little girl, you gently rocked yourself back and forth on your bed, the chill of the dark room so severe it was making your fingers numb.

"Did you?" He hummed into your ear. "I'm right here."

You could barely hold yourself together, your heart sinking so low you feared it he could snatch it from under the ground and keep it there with him forever to rot.

"I promised I'd never leave you, didn't I?"

Despite the fear weighing on your chest, your eyes opened slowly. You woke up in the warmth of your sheets, your vision blurry with tears. Seeking comfort, or at least a confirmation you weren't alone, you turned towards your boyfriend and pressed yourself into his back. You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, the grief and the guilt of trying to move on. It didn't help. The bitter mixture only seemed to upset your stomach. With a sigh, you sat up and blinked, wiping at your eyes. Outside the window dusk was slowly fading. You reached for your phone, then planted your feet on the wooden floor.

6 am. Looked like you'd have an early start.

*

Grief was... loud. It demanded to be heard. He was sure even the dead could not rest in peace with how you tossed and whimpered in your sleep. He certainly couldn't. But the bastard lying beside you remained oblivious to your suffering. Pathetic, really. Jin couldn't believe this was the man you chose to replace him with. The man who got to see your pretty smile, go to sleep and wake up by your side - when he didn't deserve any of it at all.

He would have felt that way about anyone who went near you, of course, but there was no denying the fact that he held a special contempt for Minho. All those late nights out, the perfume he smelled of when he came home. Surely you weren't that blind? Surely you could see that he wasn't faithful? Always drifting off somewhere, even as you spoke to him. Jin wished he could grab him and break every bone in his body, slowly, make him pay for every sin he ever committed. The sin of being with you, touching you. The sin of hurting you.

But all he could do was kneel by your bed and run his fingertips down your cheek. He tried to catch the tears that fell, wipe them away like he used to when he was alive. It didn't do much besides inducing a little shiver, making you pull the blankets tighter around your body.

*

A few months have passed since the car accident, yet he continued to appear in your dreams. It felt like any attempts you made at trying to find peace were being torn apart by his shadow, leaving you lethargic and confused... making you pay less attention to your new relationship. During the day, you questioned your sanity and wondered if you should see a doctor.

During the nights, however, in that cold, little dreamland of yours he haunted, you tried to find the answers to questions you wouldn't dare to ask out loud.

"Why are you still here?"

You still couldn't face him, but you felt his presence, a ghostly touch travelling down your sides. The nightmares themselves were distressing enough, but there was something else gnawing at you, a possibility that made you ache.

"Are you stuck? Is there no light there?"

You could feel Jin's arms wrapping around you from behind. Such a chilly, foreign experience, disturbing you in ways you couldn't even understand; everything seemed too realistic.

"There is," he murmured, his voice sounding amused. "And I went right into it."

You swallowed, staring at the wall ahead of you.

"Oh."

You couldn't tell if you felt relieved or disappointed. You chewed on your bottom lip.

"So, you're not real then," you whispered, as if to yourself. "Just my imagination."

"Oh no," Jin protested. "I'm very real, baby."

Your brows furrowed, your heart skipping a beat. You haven't heard him call you that in so long it made you want to curl yourself up to him. Real or not.

"But you said you followed the light."

"Mm, that I did," his lips grazed your shoulder, a hint of ice with velvet, followed by a soft whisper. "You're my light."

A dam inside you cracked, the turbulent waters behind it about to shatter it altogether, along with your willpower and common sense. You missed him so much. You wished you could hide in his arms and stay like that forever, even if they felt so cold. You'd give up the sun and live in eternal winter if it meant that things could go back to the way they were.

But they couldn't. And that wouldn't be living at all.

*

"Ah, don't forget your pills."

You smiled at Minho and grabbed the small, plastic bottle from him. It's been only two weeks since you saw a psychiatrist, but the quality of your life has improved immensely.

And also, it didn't.

While you no longer feared going to bed, closing your eyes was still a struggle. You didn't need to dream to see Jin's face behind your eyelids.

There was an uncomfortable, odd sense of guilt stirring inside you, like you've done something wrong. Like you've shut him out and left him all alone there in the void. And yet that was all the more reason for you to keep taking your medication and trying to move on. Jin was gone; there was no changing that. Sticking to rationality made it easier for you to ignore these feelings, to tell yourself that you didn't feel unusually cold when you entered your bedroom.

You glanced up at Minho when he got up from the table, grabbing his coat.

"Are you going somewhere?"

He smiled at you as he worked on fixing his tie.

"Just work stuff."

You put down your fork, your appetite suddenly gone. Work stuff, at nine pm. On a Saturday night. Again.

"Don't wait up, honey."

You didn't have the mental strength to deal with this and with your inner turmoil. Instead of speaking up, you tried to force a smile when he bent down to press his lips to yours. An inch separated you, your eyes fluttering shut.

And then - a sudden crash that made you jump in your seat.

Frowning, Minho straightened up, looking behind you.

"What the hell?"

Your heart thudded in your ears. The fright that pulsed through you spread all the way to your fingertips, making your hands feel weak. You turned your head towards the source of the sound, blood draining from your face.

The frame that held the first picture you took with Jin was lying on the floor, shattered, glass broken into pieces. You hid it inside the cabinet right above the spot, yet now it was wide open, gaping.

Even though your knees felt like cotton, you stood up and rushed towards it automatically. You collapsed onto the floor, barely registering Minho calling out your name. With trembling fingers, you began to pick up the pieces in a hurry, not even fazed when you felt two warm hands curling around your arms.

"Are you crazy?" Minho snapped, pulling you away from the mess.

You struggled out of his grasp, your elbow knocking into his chest roughly. You scrambled back to the broken frame, blinking through the tears. It was so hard to see.

"It's- it's broken," you stammered. "Broken. I need to clean it up."

Minho crouched down next to you, gripping your wrists.

"You're hurting yourself!" He hissed. "Look."

He shook both of your hands. Dazed, you glanced down, brows scrunching when you noted the blood dripping from your fingers.

"But-"

Minho stared at you, a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, like for the first time he was really seeing you. Like for the first time something akin to guilt stirred in his stomach. Keeping your wrists in a tight grip, he wrapped an arm around your waist, gently pulling you up with him.

"Come on, honey. I''ll clean it up in a sec. Hold on."

He guided you to sit back down on your chair. You could still feel your heart ramming against your chest, frighteningly heavy with the weight of stress. Minho left your side to step up to the cabinets, rummaging through them in search of a first aid kit.

Numbly, you observed him uncap a bottle of antiseptic. Only when it came into contact with your skin did you feel the sting of the cuts, a sizzling sensation that made your fingers twitch. He bandaged them up one by one, seven in total, wincing as he cleaned up the blood.

Silently, as he promised, he went to clean up the mess on the floor as well, ensuring to sweep the area thoroughly. With a brief glance at the picture, then back at you, he set it down on the counter carefully. You felt like you were outside of your body, barely there, unable to speak up and tell him to not throw the picture away. He seemed to know that himself, though.

He picked up your bottle of sleeping pills and placed it on the table beside you.

"I'm late now, but I still have to go. Get some rest okay? You can text me if you feel unwell."

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were grateful to be left alone now or if you wanted to beg him not to walk out the door. Still, you couldn't even nod when he leaned down to kiss your forehead. With your hands on your knees, you listened to him leave and lock the door.

Your eyes flickered from the counter where the picture was, then to your pills. Unable to help yourself, you left the bottle behind and went straight to bed. Waiting for the adrenaline to flow off you and the exhaustion to do its job. You couldn't force yourself to swallow the medication tonight, an uneasy feeling intensifying in your chest.

*

This just wouldn't do.

How much more could he take? He stood by your bed and watched your eyes fall closed, fuming. He caught your attention, and that fucker's too, but Minho was probably too stupid to think much of what happened. Even if a frame did fly out of your kitchen cabinet on its own.

The two weeks he spent without being able to contact you were agony. Time didn't seem to exist on the other side. For the living - for you - it flowed like a river. For Jin it was a bottomless ocean and he felt like he was drowning without you. He couldn't stand the fact that you just tried to toss him away and move on with your life as if he ceased to exist. It was clear you still loved him. Why did he have to die? Why were you so unwilling to believe that he was right by your side? Did you really think something as trivial as death would ever take him away from you?

All the anger inside of him simmered, so powerful it felt like an explosion when he watched you sit in the kitchen with that pathetic excuse of a human being.

Until it overflowed.

He was almost as surprised as you were when the cabinet flew open. He hasn't been able to touch anything on this side of life.

Now, as he stood over your bed, he contemplated what he could do with that newfound power. There were so many possibilities.

With a hum, he brushed your cheek softly. Decisions, decisions.

*

This dream was different from the others. You were still in your bed, but this time Jin didn't sit behind you. You could see his silhouette in the corner of your room, blending in with the shadows. You shivered, relief settling over you for some reason, despite how disturbing the atmosphere felt. At least he was there.

You didn't know what to say. You had a feeling he was angry at you for leaving him behind. Why else would he stand so far away?

"Missed me, baby?"

His voice sounded soft. You hid your face in your hands, confused, unable to tell if the spectre before you was a figment of your imagination, a cry from the grief you tried to escape, or something more sinister. Something more real.

But whatever it was, it was still Jin, in some way. Wasn't it?

When you heard light footsteps approaching your bed, you stiffened, still unable to find the courage to look up. For so many reasons. Would he look dead? Would he look normal? Either way seeing him again would break your heart.

You felt him kneel down on the creaky floorboards, slowly taking your hand in his. A chill spread through you, your eyes shut tightly.

"What have you done?" He whispered, pressing a kiss to each bandaged finger. A feather light touch.

"No more suffering, baby. Promise me... Just let go. I'm right here."

*

The next night you drifted off in your armchair for what seemed like a few minutes. You awoke with a sigh, getting up to stretch in the dark and make your way towards your bedroom.

Minho must have still been out somewhere. You tried to ignore that thought.

Strong arms wrapped around you, halting your steps. You froze, the soothing warmth and smell of a cologne that was so familiar to you making your heart thud. You whirled around in shock, for the first time letting yourself look at him Your hands grasped at his shoulders. He felt so much warmer than usually. Dark, soft hair framing his handsome face, his eyes burning into yours. Wearing the same leather jacket you've seen him in on your last day together.

Was this another dream? It had to be.

"Baby," he muttered lowly, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

The sudden proximity after such a long time of being apart made your stomach swirl. It was strange how solid his hold was on you.

He took a moment to stare into your eyes, the pretty eyes he missed so much, glistening and bright. You were so confused, your chest constricting with pain and love all at once. You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed you. This had to be a dream, right? But why did he feel this warm? His eyes seemed so dark. So much darker than they ever were before. His lips knocked into yours, not allowing you to voice your perplexity and your doubts, or focus on your thoughts at all.

Such hunger. He didn't think the dead could feel hunger, or much of anything, but he was wrong. His soul endured starvation in this ruthless void, starvation for your love, your touch, you. It turned into a dark desperation that dripped and dripped onto you like fire, from his tongue brushing your lower lip, from the fingertips dancing across your ribs.

He groaned, a low, raspy sound that made your thighs clench.

Not for long.

He pried them apart and settled himself between them, his lips pressing soft, wet kisses into your neck.

"Fuck," he sighed, fumbling with the zipper of your jeans, his hands shaking. "I missed you."

You wanted to let him push you into the nearest wall so willingly, you would have any other time. But this still felt so odd. So real.

For a moment, you lost your breath, and the only thing you could focus on was the way he slid your jeans halfway down your thighs, not even bothered to undress you or himself properly.

"Missed you," he repeated in a whisper.

When you heard him unbuckling his belt your cunt clenched around nothing, leaking through your panties. There was a soft grunt as his trousers pooled around his ankles, one hand hooking your leg around his waist.

"Missed you too," you gasped, your head tilting back when you felt a sharp tug and heard the cotton material of your underwear being ripped into half.

"I know, baby."

The tip of his cock brushed through your slick folds, the slight pressure of the hard, thick length causing a shiver to erupt down your spine. Jin hissed, squeezing your thighs as he spread you open.

"Missed me here too?"

He emphasized the question with a teasing thrust, rubbing against you. Very fleetingly, the thought of Minho tickled the back of your mind, like a butterfly. You weren't a cheater. But... this wasn't real, was it? Even if it was, you weren't sure if you were able to overcome the shock of it, the need and the yearning burning inside you.

As if sensing your hesitation, Jin rolled his hips, entering you harshly and knocking all air out of your lungs. You felt so full of him, your cunt pulsing hotly around his cock.

"Don't think about him," he seethed. "Don't think about anything. Only me."

He didn't make that task very difficult. All your thoughts turned to ashes when he gripped your throat with his hand and started to fuck you, slamming you into the wall behind you with every aggressive snap of his hips. Like he wanted to take all of his frustration and love out on your body, make you suffer from pleasure.

"You're only mine," he groaned into your ear. "Your heart is mine. This pussy is mine. I should beat your ass raw for fucking forgetting that."

Your knees quivered, a whine tearing out of your throat. He tightened his hand around it, cutting the sound off.

"Say you're sorry."

You clenched around him. Somehow, the aggression only made your head spin more, because if he didn't feel real before, he definitely did now.

"Say you're sorry," he demanded sternly, "you little fucking brat, s-shit."

"Sorry!" You breathed, barely audible with how hard he was choking you, your eyes stinging and pussy fluttering. "Sorry."

Jin grunted and let go of your neck, burying his hand in your hair instead. You felt lightheaded, barely able to catch the air he allowed back into your lungs, panting with how close you were.

"Good girl," he whispered, strained, a moan following the praise.

"Fuck, missed you so much, not g-gonna last, shit-"

You weren't going to, either, but he busied himself with pulling on your hair and slipping his other hand in between you. He pressed his finger into your slit to rub it roughly, causing even more slick to flow out of you, making his thrusts sloppier.

"So wet. So pretty. I love you so much, ah, fuck."

His breathing sounded just as harsh as his thrusts in your ear, growing desperate, louder than your own cries.

"Haven't been fucked how you deserve in so long, my love," he mumbled, plump lips brushing against your skin. "Come for me, please. Come on, doll. Need to feel you," he groaned. "Shit! Come on. I'll fill you up so, so good."

You couldn't help the sudden, violent snap in your stomach that made you shake and cream his cock. Jin threw his head back, revealing his attractive, tanned neck, his adam's apple bobbing. His groans were carnal, filthy, his cock twitching inside of you, filling you with a rush of his cum. If possible, you felt even fuller, your chest glowing and your cunt sticky from his orgasm. With a hiss, he rested his forehead on your shoulder, his embrace tighter around you, keeping your knees from giving out.

You floated in his arms, barely registering the fact that he picked you up and carried you towards the bed you used to share, his own knees feeling weak.

So he was able touch you. So he was able to love you. He watched you fall asleep, hope blooming in his chest only to wither away into disappointment. So what? In the end, what did that matter? You couldn't have a life together, grow old, have children. He would never be able to take you out to an expensive restaurant or buy you a gift, and who knew how long this would last? Could he only touch you when he was angry, overwhelmed, empty?

This just wouldn't do.

*

It only took a mere few days for the opportunity to arise.

It was so hard to tell what was happening around you. Your eyes blinked open to a bright light blinding you. You had no idea where you were. Was this another dream, again? You squinted, trying to cover your face. The light felt warm and safe, calling to you, like it wanted to pull you into its pearly embrace.

Instead, a darker embrace enveloped you.

"Don't go," a sweet murmur. "Not yet, baby. Stay with me."

You lifted your eyes towards the light, still squinting, although it seemed to be fading in its intensity little by little. For some reason you felt like you were running out of time.

Something was wrong.

"Stay with me," Jin repeated quietly. "You know there is no me without you. Don't go where I can't follow."

You hesitated. Weren't you on your way to see your mother with Minho? An image flashed through your head, leather seats and the low hum of music on the radio.

No, you were definitely in a car. So where the hell were you now? The last thing you remembered was the same bright light that was dimming in front of you now. You turned your head to the side, coming face to face with Jin.

The puzzle pieces clicked into place and you looked towards the enchanting source of illumination again. The light was dwindling, though its call still felt just as enticing and loud, urging you to follow.

You turned your head back towards Jin.

"Did we... crash? Am I dead?"

A hint of sorrow glimmered in his eyes. He nodded meekly, his arms tightening around you, strong and secure.

"Stay with me," he pleaded, leaning in, his lips a breath away from yours. "I'll take care of you," he murmured.

His hand slid down your side, moving to your hip. Your breath caught in your throat.

"But... but-"

You tried to take a peek at the light in front of you you, but he lifted his hand and placed it on your cheek, unwilling to let you look away from him.

Something felt so wrong; like your only chance for real, heavenly peace was slipping through your fingers. Like this wasn't where you were supposed to be, even if you ached to be with him.

"Jin..."

He shushed you, pressing a warm, affectionate kiss into your lips, his thumb brushing away your tears.

"We'll be together. Forever. I won't let you go again."

You sniffled, the space around you growing dark as night, his lips still inches from yours when he spoke again.

"You're okay, baby. I promise."

His grip on your face softened. You nodded, wiping at your eyes. He smiled at you, something you haven't seen in so long. It made your heart flip, for so many reasons.

"Good girl," he praised, stroking the top of your head affectionately. He ignored the trembling of your body, only pressing you closer to himself, trying to soothe your anxiety and pain away.

Even if he was the one who caused it.

He placed a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear. You promised to always be his.

Promises were made to be kept.

*

In a small, well lit room, Minho sat in a bed, eyeing the two figures in white lab coats standing before him suspiciously.

"I don't want to talk to you," he grumbled. "You're just here to treat me like one of your crazy patients."

The tall, dark haired man with glasses took a seat in the chair at the foot of the bed, crossing his legs.

"I don't consider any of my patients crazy," he answered calmly. "It's important to remain open minded and find a solution if a problem arises. I'm only here to listen and help you feel safe. I promise."

Minho narrowed his eyes, his gaze flicking from the elderly nurse who still stood by his side to the doctor.

The psychiatrist gave him a kind, dimpled smile.

"My name is Kim Namjoon. How about we start with that?"

"I don't care about your name," Minho huffed. "You have no idea what happened to me. You would never believe it either."

A pen clicked, its tip pressing into a notebook resting on the man's lap.

"Why don't you try me?" He coaxed gently. "Let's start at the beginning. As you're aware, the security footage shows your car swerving violently to the right. The doctor said you were trying to avoid hitting someone."

"I- I was."

Namjoon raised his eyebrows.

"But the roads were empty."

Minho flushed.

"Your tests also came back negative for any signs of drugs or alcohol in your system," Namjoon continued. "Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

"I wasn't hallucinating because I was stressed," Minho snapped. "I saw someone!"

"Who did you see?"

Heaving a sigh, Minho glanced up at the nurse, who gave him an encouraging smile, as if to say: it's okay. He fiddled with the cool sheets covering him.

"My girlfriend's ex. He... died seven months ago."

"Ah," Namjoon said softly, steering his focus onto you, as if the revelation of seeing a ghost didn't faze him. "I'm sorry for your loss, Minho."

Another sigh, heavier, glassy eyes burning into the doctor.

"It was his fault!" Minho stressed. "He killed her and now he's going to kill me."

After a moment of soft scratching of pen against paper, Namjoon leaned forward, tilting his head to the side.

"What makes you think that?"

Minho hesitated.

"I... saw him in the hospital room as well. It was like a dream," he sniffed. "But I couldn't move."

Namjoon hummed, waiting.

"...He... said something to me."

Straightening up, Namjoon grabbed his pen again and pressed it into the white page.

"What was it?"

Minho pursed his lips, sighed once more. Cringed at his own words.

"He... he said," he gulped, "that- that I'm already ugly but he's going to fuck me up so bad that I'll wish I didn't even have a face and my own mama won't recognize me."

Silence.

The nurse coughed into her hand.

Namjoon just hummed again, trying to hold back, trying so hard not to laugh, but a snort escaped him anyway, his lips curling into a smile while he wrote the words down.

"Jin really enjoyed fucking with you, huh?"

Minho frowned, his face flooding with heat, his hands curling into fists.

"Do you think this is funny?! How dare you sit here and-" he paused abruptly, the rest of his outburst forming into a big knot in his throat.

How did the psychiatrist know Jin's name?

Namjoon set his notebook and pen down, looking up at Minho.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I promise he's not going to hurt you."

Minho leaned back into the bedframe, trying to sink into it as the man stood up. His aura did not seem so gentle anymore, but rather intimidating as he stalked over to him, disturbingly so.

His head momentarily snapped up to the nurse. She gave him a grin so crooked and strange it made his heart sink.

"Where the hell am I?" He whispered. "I thought this was a mental hospital."

"It was," Namjoon nodded, taking a seat beside him. "Many years ago."

As soon as he was closer, Minho froze, unable to move. A horrible thought occurred to him.

"Did I die?"

Namjoon tsked.

"Of course not. How would that be any fun?"

His hand reached out towards Minho, unusually cold knuckles brushing his cheek, making him flinch.

"I wouldn't be able to hurt you much if we were both dead, would I?"

The room seemed to darken somehow, its shape distorting with dim, sickly green flashes and black shadows. The logical part of him wanted to ask if he was drugged, but deep down, he knew the truth was much worse. His hands trembled violently, a cold, dark feeling spreading through his veins, rendering him weak. He was starting to grow dizzy.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He mumbled hoarsely through dry, shaking lips.

Namjoon bent over to the chair and grabbed his notebook, flipping through the pages. His image was becoming blurry, his voice an odd echo.

"Oh, let me see. Jin noted it all down here."

He settled on a random page.

"You're a liar," he listed, "you always forget your mum's birthday... Oh my, you're a republican as well."

Minho blinked, trying to keep himself afloat, too terrified of what he would wake up to if he fainted.

Namjoon's dark, amused eyes turned towards him, his deep voice eerily calm.

"What do you think you did wrong? Hm? You took his girlfriend, and then you cheated on her as well. Repeatedly. That's not nice, Minho."

He patted his shoulder.

"Sleep well, my friend. I've been so very bored, and I want to have fun with you. I'll see you when you wake up."

Minho shook his head, like he could protest against the workings of his own body, of what was happening around him. But there was only so much distress his pounding heart could handle before it gave out altogether. White as a sheet, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, he fainted.

The last thing he saw before the darkness took him into her arms, like a mother cradling her child, was Namjoon's chilly smile.

Reported missing two days after the accident, his case remained unsolved.

💌 taglist: @wonyuknow @imnotlauriane @bucketofhiros @baalsgurl1913 @silv3rswirls @osakis-gf @iceprincessviviane

💜💜💜

The Woman with the Black Cat on Her Shoulder | MYG

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

Dystopian Fantasy AU. Shapeshiftercat!yoongi x reader

Warning: 18+ adult themes, dystopian futuristic society (IS IT THO?), graphic violence against women, animal cruelty, attempted SA, mention of suicide, police brutality, angst, sex so soft and sweet and full of consent

Word Count: 9.1k

---

“It’s her,” they said. Whispers in the crowd, repeating the phrase to one another, like a wave of hope rippling over their bodies, energizing their fight.

It was true. She was there, and the crowd could feel her power, her anger, forged from pain. Because it was their anger too. It was familiar, it was a friend reaching over their shoulder and telling them, ‘It will be okay. I’m here now. You don’t have to fight alone. You won’t lose this time, because you have me now.’ 

The rumors spread far, even the law-forcers knew of her. They knew of her as a myth, a story the people would tell to ease the pain of their subjugation. An empty promise shouted at the law-forcers, that one day they’ll be sorry, that one day victory won’t be theirs to take. She was the woman with the black cat on her shoulder. One look into those feline eyes and judgment is swift. 

Some believed the cat is a creature from the underworld. The beast heard the people’s cries and clawed its way up into this world, collecting souls of abusers and assaulters, dragging them back down to its dark home. Some people believe the cat is part of her, she wields and controls the beast like a limb, that she isn’t human, but an angel, the savior of the people.

But she is neither and the cat is neither. She is like them. Born without wealth, without love, abandoned and alone, she grew up too quickly. A sad story told a million different ways by a million different girls. She lived her life as they all did, she worked and worked and worked and worked, and lived. She didn’t want anything more but to live...

You didn’t want anything more but to live, and perhaps it was by some divine intervention, you don’t know, that you crossed paths with a lonely black cat, so small and broken, so desperate to survive like you. You freed him and in ways you could not imagine, he freed you.

---

From the crowd of bodies, the woman with the black cat on her shoulder stepped to the front. Her clothes were black, pants torn and patched, sewn back stronger. A tight shirt so they made no mistake, it was a woman under that mask. Black cloth covering her face and hair, the amount of her hair hidden under her hood. But they could still see her eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner and hatred. And on her shoulder, a large black cat, long wild hair to match its wild eyes. 

The law-forcers stood in a line, guns and shields ready. The angry crowd had nothing but hope now. 

The law-forcers didn’t really believe it was her, looking down at her still. Any woman could find a black cat and pretend. They saw her as a martyr, a faker, their trigger fingers itching to make an example of her.

The cat hissed, mouth stretched wide open and long fangs displayed. The hiss was loud and piercing and the law-forcers flinched, embarrassingly reacting. The crowd jeered and laughed and the law-forcers pointed their guns at the black cat, growing in anger for being made fools. 

You whisper to your companion to wait. Let them attack first. Show the world the true aggressor before them. 

You waited because you knew the beast on your shoulder was a magical being. And the thing about living magic in a world filled with human creation, is that magic and technology reacted like oil and water, coexisting but unable to intermix, and magic was by far the stronger force. 

Red lasers land on you and your companion, but you stubbornly stand tall and the crowd mirrors your actions. The cat growls low and menacing and hisses again. It only took one scared threatened man, one trigger happy finger, and then it was all over...for them.

-

A gun shot rang out, and smoke appears where the black cat on the woman’s shoulder stood, weaving and twisting in the air like black rivers, dispersing and covering the empty zone between the crowd and the law-forcers. Bullets entered the smoke and the magical force created a barrier, stopping them in midair. That is when they all knew, they knew she was not just a myth.

As quickly as the magic appeared, electricity disappeared. The energy sent a shockwave across devices. Cameras and lights, the law-forcers military grade machinery, and all that expensive technology the law-forcers depended on broke and malfunctioned. Precious moments without their weapons that give a perfect window of attack. 

The crowd stands transfixed and the woman screams, loud and deep within her gut…

A roar. 

The black cat appears and reappears, so quickly it’s impossible to follow the cat’s path. Fangs piercing through skin and muscle of the men paid to silence the people’s cries, now crying for help, crying in pain as sharp claws rip through kevlar and tear the flesh from their bones. She runs towards them without fear. That's what the crowd sees, they don't witness her fear of losing what she loves most that carries her feet forward. And then the crowd begins to run forward too, headed straight towards men with bullets ready to fire. 

It’s chaos. 

---

“Dinner’s ready.”

His voice was soft and calming but you startle awake. You don’t mean to, you’re just always on alert and so anxious these days. 

His hand moves from your back to your shoulder, fingers pushing into your tight muscles. His way of telling you to relax. You place your hand over his, pulling him into bed. You’re so tired, he must be too. You wish he wouldn’t worry over you, you could have heated some left overs up instead.

The news plays loud on your home's display screen, events of afternoon recorded right before the blackout replay from many different angles. You listen to the cheers of your arrival, inwardly groaning.

Tonight it’s going to get worse, you’ve bruised the egos of the elite, and men like that always lash out in anger, unable to take a loss so great.

“We should go out tonight, just in case,” you sigh. Your companion doesn’t speak, he’s tired. He fought so hard. And he might have to do it again. But this is the life you both chose. Somehow, it has become this, nights upon nights of this. You wonder, if others had this kind of power, would they be able to sleep at night knowing they could have done something more, or would they be like you?

It wasn’t always like this. Before you were a fighter of the system, you were a victim of the system.

Like the night your companion, Yoongi, showed you what he truly was.

---

“Sweet kitty.” He purrs loudly while he eats, broken purrs between grumbles as he devours his dinner. The sight makes you laugh as he eats the meat leftover from your lunch. He waits for you, always in the same spot. The black cat you saved has taken to following you from work to your home at night. Every night you try to coax him into your house, but he never does decide to join you. He’s a cat of the streets.

You click your tongue softly as his fluffy tail wraps around your calf. Using two fingers, you run them along the cat’s back as he eats. “I have to get going, kitty, sorry for making you wait,” you muse, scratching behind the cat’s ears as he finishes. It’s later than you usually leave. Hours at the warehouse seemed to stretch longer and longer these days. 

You move quickly and quietly, kept your purse tight to your side. You walked behind restaurants, away from drunken men and street girls that took over busy streets at night. Walking these dark alleys alone was daunting, but better than dealing with confrontation and a quicker route. And you had kitty. The animal gracefully walks next to you, happily bouncing along with his tail held upright. You somehow felt safer walking with the tiny street cat.

Age thirteen was the first time you encountered the wandering eyes of strangers, walking the district’s marketplace with your friends from the learning center. Three teenage girls enduring the catcalls of grown men, following you for blocks. You knew the feeling of someone watching you all too well, it was the same feeling you felt tonight.

You stop and bend down, petting kitty, cooing at how cute he looks when he stretches his neck towards you and in the corner of your eye, you noticed them, two men in the shadows following close behind you. There is no safety at night for a woman in this world. You learned that not this night, but you felt the fear of your reality in waves, stronger than any night before.

Standing up again, you ignored them and kept your pace. You were too scared to run. Running escalated things. You learned not to do such things. Once you ran they would chase, they could catch you, they would hurt you. And you knew you couldn’t fight two and win, you weren’t confident in one. You fiddle with your e-bracelet. You could signal an emergency, but the law-forcers took hours to come to this part of town, even as attacks continue to escalate, you knew they wouldn’t save you.

Kitty meows next to you. He meows, he meows, did kitty notice them too? “I know,” you whisper.

You think if you keep this pace, you can make it past the corner, and run then, hide yourself in the crowd. But like you, it was not the first time for these men either. Experienced predators, they noticed your hunched shoulders, the concentrated steps slowly escalating. They attacked.

Dirty hands grab at your body, your hair, yanking you backwards into pavement. It was too quick, too forceful. 

You fought, you fought hard, with everything you had. You kicked and you screamed, and when fingers covered your screams you cried, when stronger arms and legs kicked back and shoved you back down, you pulled your limbs tightly together, protecting what they wanted from you.

You tasted your own blood, felt the sting of cuts and bruises on your body just formed and yet you still fought, unwilling to let them have any of you.

Acting on instinct to protect yourself until your legs were ripped open and your arms were held down and you retreated into your mind, thinking of what you could have done to stop this outcome, was there anything, one small difference, that could have changed everything? You were asking yourself these questions when the heaviness lessened, and your voice was no longer the only screams in the night. 

You lifted your head at a terrifying sight. Limbs reacting quickly to move away from the bloodshed. You reminded yourself to breathe.

Breathe out. You looked down at the scene, the two assaulters were dead, their bodies covered in scratches. 

Breathe in. And another man, black hair wild and covering his eyes. Hands red, covered in blood that wasn’t his. 

Breathe out. He walks closer to you, bends down, covers your bruised cheek with his bloody hand. Street lights flicker and static electricity stings you at his touch, but you don’t flinch away, feeling a familiarity that didn’t frighten you. 

Breathe in. Somehow you knew the most improbable situation was what this was, you knew what he was.

Breathe out. “Kitty?”

Even with all your breathing, you still passed out at the revelation.

---

You sit straight up, yelping, breathing eratic.

‘What's this?’ You stare at napkins and plastic bags, the trash falling away from your body. You're outside on your porch. Your purse had been underneath your head.

“Ow.” Your ribs hurt, your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your temples hurt. You run your tongue over your dry lips, over a cut and wince. Your bracelet beeps. You’re late for work.

You didn’t have time to think about last night until lunch time. Unable to make food, you stood in line to pay for lunch. Waiting for your turn in line, you listened to today’s gossip. The women of the warehouse discussed in hushed voices last night's murder. “An animal attack, they think.” “What kind of animal could do such a thing?” “Not too far from here at all, two men.” “Men?!” “From the Financial District at that.” “No CCTV either. It made the trending headlines this time.” “Maybe now they’ll do something about the attacks.” “Y/n, what happened to your face?”

“Went drinking last night, went home with the wrong one.” you mutter, running your fingers over the cut on your eyebrow.

The women look over at you with sympathetic eyes, “Please, y/n, my nephew is a good one, I wish you would give him a chance,” your coworker says, a lovely old woman who treats you like a daughter. 

“You didn't met him in VR first?! They have apps now to vet men like that,” another says in an accusing tone, “I would never.”

“Men can still pay to scrub that info from the V life,” the older woman says, rolling her eyes.

You wrap your leftovers in a napkin, pocketing the food. “I don’t have time to take care of a man, sorry Auntie!” Hugging her goodbye, you try not to wince when your ribs touch.

You head back to work, lost in your thoughts, piecing together what your mind allowed you to remember from trauma of last night.

After work you wait at your usual spot, clicking your tongue, but the black cat doesn’t come.

So you wait stubbornly, until it becomes even later than the night before. You check behind trash cans and old boxes, huffing. You were so certain you saw him in the morning, scampering away from you as you woke. Where is he now? You're certain you remembered the events of last night correctly, you're sure of it...aren't you?

Your usual route has been taped off, now a crime scene, so you’re forced to walk through the crowds, weaving through drunken bodies.

Drunken men won’t leave you alone, especially one, even when you tell him off, even when you push him away, he jeers and makes fun of your bruises.

“Looks like someone already taught you a lesson on manners. Didn’t you learn anything?” he slurs, following after you.

You turn down a deserted alleyway and feel small pads hit your shoulder, the warmth of a large cat pressing down onto your back, fur ticking your cheek. You reach up to steady the cat's body, pulling him into a protective embrace close to your chest. The black cat purrs as you stand stunned, looking down at the black cat. “When did you get so big?”

The man takes a swaying step forward and the cat hisses and swats a large paw in his direction, making the man flinch back, chuckling in his drunkenness.

“Leave me alone.” 

He’s too drunk, eyes glazed over, unwilling to stop now that it’s started. He lunges forward and the cat jumps out of your hands, claws aimed at the drunken man’s face. He screams as you attack as well, pushing him away as hard as you can, anger overtaking you. You don’t feel remorse as he hits the ground with a thud, blood pooling around his head, just stunned that it actually worked.

The crowd hears the commotion, men begin to head towards your location. Your heartrate spikes, preparing yourself to run, but instead someone pulls you into a hug, concealing you in the shadows, lifting you into his arms easily instead.

You’re both gone before anyone can reach you, left only to look at the drunken man, now dead.

A piercing scream echoes, but you’re already so far away. He holds you in his arms, moving across roofs with agility like you’ve never seen before. You kept your head buried in his shoulder until he landed in front of your doorstep. Placing you down, your legs buckle once they touch the ground, unable to stop yourself from falling into his arms.

You apologize, searching for your keys as he holds you upright. When you finally unlock your door he turns to leave. Just like that. No!

You find his hand, “Please don’t go, please.”

Smoke appears like a gust of wind, black and thick, and the hand you held evaporated in your palm as you coughed. When the smoke clears, a small figure stood, a cat with wild hair, his back towards you. The black cat looked over its shoulder, green eyes piercing yours.

You held in your gasp, and bent down, bruised knees hitting hard ground.

Reaching a shaky arm towards the cat, he stills. You hold your breath petting soft fur, hands delicately lifting his body into your arms. You couldn’t help the tears escaping, the wetness falling onto his soft hairs.

“I’ll stay out here then.” You whisper into fur, body shaking.

A meow erupts from the cat in protest.

For the second time you fell asleep on your front porch, for the second night you watched a man die and felt no remorse.

---

The next day at work the second murder was all your coworkers could talk about. Trending reports of another slashed bloody, a dead man found blocks away from your own warehouse. The news had trended statewide too, the headline was too juicy, too scandalous; a tourist visiting the labor district, brutally murdered on the night strip, presumably by a prostitute, a dirty woman! He was a father, a leader in the community, a good man!

Fuck him. You kept your head down and worked and didn’t entertain their gossiping. You were on edge all day until you stepped out of work and a familiar feline stared up at you, tail swishing back and forth.

You bent down and wrapped your arms underneath his fluffy belly, pulling him close to you, head nuzzling his furry body. He wiggled in your embrace but did not try to leave, paws instead reaching for your shirt and eventually jumping onto your shoulder. 

That’s how your walks went from then on. You talked to him like always, but now with the understanding that he really knew the words you spoke. He never changed back into the man who helped you, and he always jumped off your shoulder before you could walk inside.

“Please come in, please.” you always said.

But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. ‘Stubborn kitty,’ you thought, and your heart hurt.

-

One night, instead of going home after work, you went dancing. 

“Meow.”

“Is it just me, or is that stray following us?”

“Just you,” you joke, giving your date a small unconvincing smile.

You finally agreed to go out on a date with your coworker’s nephew, Hoseok. “Maybe it’s hungry.” He wonders, laying his arm over your shoulder, confused by its strange behavior.

You looked down at the black cat, walking back and forth gracefully, and looking very much annoyed. “Maybe.”

“My house or yours?” He asks, voice gruff, eyes downcast. Even the good ones still act all the same.

You smile. “Yours.”

A loud deep meow erupts from the black cat. 

-

The next time you left the warehouse, there was no black cat. He’s mad at you. Did you deserve it? He doesn’t expect you to feed him every single night, does he? If he just accepted your offer to stay inside your home, he wouldn’t have to worry about such things, you thought, offended and weary to walk home alone, cautiously making your way down the usual path.

You heard soft footsteps behind you. ‘Not again,’ you thought. Fearing the worst you spun around, coming face to face with your ‘black cat.’ You met deep brown eyes with flecks of green that almost seemed to glow when he stepped cautiously out of the shadows.

He crossed his arms over his chest and walked towards and then past you, looking over his shoulder, an annoyed look on his face. You took the hint and stepped in line. “Um, are you hungry?”

He didn’t speak.

You dug into your purse. You held out the leftovers wrapped in foil to him. He took it and ate as he walked, big urgent bites that made you frown, noticing his hunger. 

You pass a man walking in the opposite direction and your companion presses his shoulder to yours. The gesture warms your heart. Usually, when a man passed by you, you were met with questions or a comment about your body. This time nothing. The stranger keeping his head down, walking away without a word, and you almost wanted to scoff at how invisible you became now that you were in the company of a man, annoyed that’s what it took for strangers to leave you alone.

You stopped once you saw your home in the distance. He looked at you in question, turning to you for the first time. “Thank you…for walking me home tonight. And all those nights. Thank you, kitty.” 

You hugged him, his body stiffened against yours and you didn’t let go until he relaxed, arms slowly reaching around you too.

“Yoongi, my name is Yoongi.” His voice was gruff and raspy like he hasn’t used it in awhile. It was the first time, in a long time he felt he had a reason to speak.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you whispered. And then you let him go, smiling, turning back to your home. 

---

The thing about injustice, is that those who wield it, do not have to live with the pain they cause. But for those who are hit, every day the pain builds upon itself, robbing energy and time to tend to wounds caused by injustice, leaving scars that make it impossible to forget. 

You’ve felt it growing inside you, the anger. The past continued to assault you, making you feel disgusted. You tried to ignore it, but the memories were scars inside you that keep opening, making you angrier, repulsed.

And worse, attacks in the district grew exponentially, outcries from the people were met with platitudes by officials.

And worst of all, the latest trending case involved an elite from the e-tech district. It took four women, the last one reported to have died from the trauma. Of course he faced no punishment. He was a powerful man from the e-tech district, and they were powerless labor women. Injustice upon injustice. The wounds kept on opening, your trauma you kept on remembering, again and again in the faces of these women, anger simmering and growing.

So when you walked your usual path with Yoongi high on your shoulder and heard a concealed whimper in the shadows, you didn’t just mind your own business, like you would have done out of fear no less than a year ago, you were too angry to be afraid.

“Get off of her!”

You hit his back, you hit his head, you hit any part of him you can reach. “Go! Run! Hurry!” you tell the woman, who chokes on her cries and looks at you with tearful scared eyes, nodding.

He is startled, but he is stronger, pushing you away, slapping you across the face. “Crazy bitch! You want to die, yeah?”

He hits you again and you don’t care. You kick him and hit him, knuckles hurting the most with how hard you swing.

He is surprised, but he is stronger, and it only take one solid hit to make you double over, wind knocked out of you and curling into yourself.

Legs trap your body to the ground and you feel disgusted all over again, gritting your teeth, angry tears escaping, your nails dig into his face, drawing blood that surprises you both.

He’s angry, and he’s stronger, fingers wrapping around your neck, a murderous look in his eyes that you match. You belt weakened hits down across his forearm. Part of you, furious, makes a promise that if you survive this, you’ll find a way to kill him and every man who hurts another woman with your bare hands. But another part of you, the part of you that’s tired, that expects this pain to never end, would rather just die. 

A single clawed digit runs across the man’s neck, ending the fight and silencing your thoughts. Yoongi pulls the man off with you ease, throwing his dying body to the ground.

Yoongi crouches down, looking over your battered body. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

“We have to leave.”

“No, leave me alone!”

“Get up,” he says, insistent.

“NO!” Your breath out rapidly, unable to calm your nerves or your anger.

So Yoongi waits, sitting down next to you. “Then I’ll stay here with you.”

Finally, you calm down, tension growing as minutes tick by. “Let’s go,” you swallow, pulling off your blood soaked work shirt, revealing a black tank top underneath, standing up to leave.

“This is not the way home.”

“I know.”

Black smoke zips around you, Yoongi appearing in front of you annoyed. “Where are you going?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, you were going to find another drunk man, you were going to see if he deserved to die too. “Why did you save me?!”

He looks at you, “Because I wanted to.” His answer short, hiding his real answer.

“Why?!”

“When you found me, why did you save me?” He asks, temper rising.

You stumble over your words. “Because it was the right thing to do, how couldn’t I?”

You think back to the day you found Yoongi, thin as a rail, patches of fur missing, tape wrapped tightly around his body, barely clinging to life, you thought he was surely going to die.

It was too cruel, what happened to him, you hadn’t expected him to live through the night, but you wanted him to know kindness too, to know there were good people out there too who wouldn’t hurt him. You nursed him all night and all morning, for days, until he found the strength to walk again, and then one night when you came home from work he was gone, the following night began your walks.

“That’s why. Because it’s right,” he replies.

You swallow down angry tears. “This is not going to stop, it’s not going to stop unless someone stop it.”

---

Spring came and it became unbearably hot in your small home. You left the windows open at night to let the heat out. On your day off, you took to spring cleaning. As you cleaned you looked to the side and saw familiar black fur, Yoongi was outside your window. You put out a bowl of water on the window sill, adding an ice cube which he gratefully licked, slurping the water cutely. He looked bigger. Hair longer, he did not look like the straggly stray you first encountered. He kind of looked intimidating, you mused.

You lean your head against your window frame, running your hand through his thick fur. “You can come inside anytime you want,” you let him know, smiling.

With the spring heat, you traded pants for shorts, thinner fabric, your hair up and off your shoulders. Now that nights were no longer cold, that meant even more people outside. More attacks too, some trending cases coming in from the upper districts.

Once the brutality reached the elite, rallies begin to form, marches through the Neostate's capital. You watched on your home display, conflicted in emotions. It looked nice, but did it change anything? Maybe in those districts, but definitely not here.

It didn’t matter to you, because you promised yourself that night, you would die before you let another man take advantage of you.

So when a man put his arm over yours, pulled you out of the dance hall, and he thought of all the way he was going to have you that night, you thought of all the ways you were going to kill him.

Alone with him, you spoke low and direct, only once telling him to let you go before he regrets it. He laughs in your face, leans into you, whisky smell coming out of his slimy lips as he attacks the corner of your mouth. 

Ever since that night you let your nails grow. It made it a bit more difficult to complete your duties at the warehouse, but the trade off was worth it, watching men crumple to the floor, screaming in pain when you ripped gashes across their face. Oh, it was worth so it.

“You crazy fucking whore!” The man screeches expletive after expletive, anger growing. You don’t care.

Before you can attack again, before he can attack you, Yoongi attacks.

From behind you, moving quicker than either of you, Yoongi transforms in a man. He lands a series of punches, large hand definitively gripping his face, slamming his skull hard into the unforgiving pavement.

He looks back at you and you look at him and you don’t need to speak to one another before both running down the alley away from the dead drunk who could have saved his life if he hadn’t tried to impose himself on you.

You walk next to one another in silence. And then you decide to turn back into the crowd. Yoongi holds you back, asking, “What are you doing?”

“I’m thirsty. It’s hot. I want a popsicle.”

He stops you again. “Cmon on, I’ll buy you one too. A milk one.”

You sit on your porch, smiling at Yoongi who holds two popsicles, once in each hand, licking the frozen milk.

“You’re trending on the local page. Well I guess we’re both trending.”

Yoongi nods, focused on licking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Yoongi nods.

“Why won’t you come stay inside?”

“My kind are territorial. If I choose a home, it’s um, important to choose the right one.”

You pout, “I know my house isn't big or fancy, but it’s sturdy. It’s not that bad.”

“That’s not what I meant! I just... I had a home once. I thought I would always be welcome. I...” He can’t finish, voice shaking.

You exhale, understanding. “I grew up in foster homes. Some were okay, but it never felt like a family. Some were...horrible...” You wince at memories. “Anyways, what’s the saying, ‘Home is where the heart is’?” You nudge his shoulder. “This feels like home right here. Here with you.” you smile. “Yoongi? Are you…purring?” You look over at him with wide eyes, hearing the familiar vibrations come from deep within his chest.

“No!” He looks away.

---

Neostate's capital never seemed to care about the attacks on women, but the attacks on men? More law-forcers tasked to your district. On every corner. Men protecting men. More arrests of street girls. A curfew for women (unless a man was with you). You could almost feel the fear and tension within the night crowds now.

The people didn’t like the constant watchful eye. Rallys were every day now. Violence was met with more violence. The women who were caught in the crosshairs weren’t taken to Neostate run prisons, no, they were taken immediately to special e-commerce owned prisons, forced to work in the gencrop fields with migrants and farmbots, forced to work with cancer causing chemicals that unions outlawed amongst its citizen workers.

And by some accounts, women were given a second, more heinous, option. Better than slowly dying from cancer causing chemicals, they could use their prison time to serve as live incubators, as human birth was always the more desired option to incubator births. That was Neostate’s answer to the violence, a more sinister, pathological brutality.

Where was the justice for the battered women? Where was the justice?

That kind of injustice, that kind of shared pain, it didn’t lessen or become better over time. It stayed, stretched and thinned, like a blanket, almost comforting at times, suffocating most of all. The hypocrisy was sparking an age old fire amongst the people who had let it simmer for too long. And now, that cloth caught fire, and there was no stopping it.

More rallies and more marches, in every district a curfew now.

The fire was flaming.

And inside danced one flame known as her. Rumors of a powerful woman, with a pet, no a beast, no a cat! People have seen her at night, seen her cat move, jumping over buildings. She walks the streets at night to deal out justice the law-forcers won’t, women she has saved talk of her all the time; the woman with the black cat on her shoulder.

-

One night, the men who deserved punishment, to your surprise, were in uniform.

You stood stunned, unable to process. “L-Let her go...”

“Grab her.”

Of course, unfortunately for him, Yoongi would never allow him to touch you. Larger than you have ever seen him, appearance more like a panther than a black cat, Yoongi attacked the law-forcer with ease. 

This was before you learned Yoongi’s abilities were unmatched by bullets. You jumped in the firing path of the law-forcers. Your vision blurred from the blood loss and the immense black smoke that suddenly appeared. It was everywhere, and Yoongi was unstoppable. 

Everything was destroyed. The destruction didn’t look human, didn’t even look monstrous, it looked like a killer force of nature.

You only heard rumors of it like everyone else, the unexplained phenomena that took the lives of two heroes, because you fell unconscious before you could witness Yoongi's true power.

You woke up in your bed, bandaged, Yoongi and an unfamiliar man at your bedside. 

Your throat itches, dry from days of sleep. Your muscles stiff, tight bandages around your stomach.

“Hello,” the stranger besides Yoongi speaks calmly. “I’m Namjoon, a friend of Yoongi’s. You’re okay now, we were able to stop the bleeding, no major organs or arteries were hit, you’re lucky.”

Lucky, he says. You groan. “You’re doctor?”

“Not quite,” he laughs uneasily. “A veterinarian.” He smiles sheepishly.

You fell asleep after the small exchange, and woke up with a small black cat purring across your chest, feet and tail tucked in, head resting under your chin.

You find enough energy to pet him softly. “Don’t leave, please,” you croaked out, half asleep. “You’re my home.”

Yoongi never left.

---

These days, when you walked with Yoongi, he walked in human form beside you. Yoongi stayed more and more in human form. Stray cats were being round up and euthanized. Animal hospital records were being sequestered and families who owned black cats were being investigated by the State. All over a rumor. Well, the rumors of the woman with the black cat on her shoulder had become more than just gossip between warehouse workers. Whispers of you were heard in every home, in neighboring disticts, in Neostate's capital! You and Yoongi have become a symbol of strength, of hope, a battle cry, a reason to keep fighting.

-

“What should we get? Hweh?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, shaking his head no.

“Hmm,” you browse through the food screen at the grocery kiosk, “Well I can’t afford steak,” you pout.

“What do you want?” he asks

“Noodles!” Yoongi visibly grimaces at the thought, making you laugh.

“How about we settle for chicken?” You smile. Yoongi smiles wide. You somehow always ended up buying the chicken.

“Y/n? Hey! How have you been?”

“Hobi, hey!” You turn around to see Hoseok’s cheerful face smiling down at you. “I’m great, all things considered.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. You know, I pick up my Aunt and some of the other girls from the warehouse after their shift ends. Has she told you? I can take you home too. It’s not safe to walk alone at night.”

“It’s never been safe,” you sigh. You knew, most women now walked in pairs or with a trusted male escort. “I’m fine,” you reassure Hoseok, “Yoongi walks with me.” you look over to your companion, smiling. If Hoseok only knew how many walks it has been now.

“Oh, nice to meet you! Are you…together?”

“He’s my fr-” You feel Yoongi’s hand reach for yours, intertwining his fingers as he stares down a confused Hoseok. “-iend.” You look down in surprise at his hand tightly holding onto yours.

“A-Ah, okay.” Hoseok looks away flustered by the way your companion stares daggers into him.

The screen beeps and the kiosk's door opens, your food bagged and ready to be picked up. “We g-gotta go.” You turn, pulling Yoongi along.

You walk home and Yoongi never lets go of your hand.

You don’t question him, afraid he might take it the wrong way, instead enjoying the moment, because as affectionate as Yoongi was in cat form, he never touched you unless absolutely necessary in human form.

Yoongi, however, silently stews over the brief encounter, feeling more and more threatened by the man who took you on a date so long ago. Once you enter your home you finally ask him, “Are y-you okay?”

“Yes.” He says, still holding your hand. Lips pressed into a tight line, full of jealous and quiet rage.

You raise your eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

“You see me as a friend?” he snaps.

“You, um, don’t see me as a friend?” you ask confused.

“I see you as more.” He says it softly, eyes staring you down. He looked angry but he looked sincere, confusing you.

“What do you– What do you mean, Yoongi?” You heartbeat escalates in anticipation.

He didn’t have a proper word for it, the closest human word didn’t sound right at all. He saw you as more, yes, he felt a connection so deep to you, words couldn’t describe it.

He lifts your intertwined hands over his heart, struggling to say what he felt. “You’re– with me– You’re home.”

He raises your hand to his mouth, pressing the skin to his lips softly, before licking.

You smile, giggling at his cute affection before moving closer to him, burying your head into his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat. 

“You’re…more than a friend.” You whisper. You look up at him, catching his eyes, irises such a deep brown shade with tiny flecks of green, his eyes so mesmerizing. “I love you.”

The words were barely spoken. He bends his head down, forehead meeting yours, long messy hair still as soft as a cat’s, ticking your skin. He's closer than he’s ever been to you. You took the chance to move one last inch, closing the distance, pressing your lips against his.

His soft lips brush against yours, making you feel so good you have to force yourself to pull away from him. “Was that okay?”

He answers you by kissing you again, this time with intention, his lips moving against yours, soft and hard and soft and hard and so so warm.

Your heart overflows, it makes you feel dizzy, a happiness you weren’t used to, only touching the surface of the love you felt for him but never diving in, and now it felt so strong and all consuming it left you breathless.

You hug him close again, anchoring yourself to him. “Did I do it wrong?” he hesitates.

“No, everything is right, everything.” 

---

You answered Hoseok's chat right away.

“How did this happen?!” You move beside Hoseok, staring at the hospital bed where his Aunt lies, bandaged and connected to tubing.

“She got caught up in the rally. The law-forcers thought she was a protestor. What shit, they hit her thirteen times! She was still in her warehouse uniform!” You put your hand over her bruised knuckles. Hoseok’s shoulders rack with sobs, Mrs. Jung was Hoseok’s Aunt, but she raised him like her own. “The march was so large I couldn't get my car through the crowd, I couldn't get to her!” He cries, feeling guilty and distraught. You turn to Yoongi, exchanging silent words.

You never attended the marches, deciding to pick your battles. But this time, you decided you enemy was not only a misogynistic bottom feeder from the labor district, not just a sadistic elite taking advantage of his status to hurt women, or a sexist law-forcer abusing his power, your enemy had become bigger, a system working against women like you at every turn. You were going to defend yourself and the women you loved, and even the women you didn’t, you decided.

And that is why you and Yoongi revealed yourself to the world. You had enough. The people had enough. And this time, because of you, the people had won. It showed the world, power is not just given to men.

---

“The Women’s Protection Act,” your coworker scoffs, moving the hospital food around her plate, “Sounds like Enslavement.” She frowns. “My husband is dead, how am I supposed to get to work if I can’t even leave my own house by myself?”

“I could take you.” Hoseok says.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s a nice thought, but doesn’t fix the problem.” 

“It won’t pass, right?” Yoongi asks.

“They’re scared of us, it will pass,” you say solemnly. 

“Then we fight.” Yoongi says. You all turn to stare at him. “Err right?”

“Fighting here does nothing, the elite districts have to join in, for real.”

“Those girls never worked a day in their life,” she groans, “you think they will dirty their hands for us?”

“If they had someone to rally them, I bet they would… The woman with the cat on her shoulder.” Hoseok says wistfully. “They would follow her, look what happened.” You catch Yoongi’s eyes and quickly look away.

“Yeah, can you believe it? Those fuckers’ weapons all jammed. Can you imagine that cat of hers in the e-tech district?” Hoseok’s Aunt cackles, “Oooh, the entire place would combust!” 

You swallow hard while Hoseok joins in on the laughter. “Ahh that would be great. But the capital has technology that hasn’t even reached us yet, I don’t think she could even survive a fight like that.”

“We should still try.” Yoongi murmurs.

“Yeah? Got a way to chat her? I’d love to meet her,” Hoseok laughs.

Yoongi leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, huffing.

You ignored Yoongi’s questions all night, until finally you snap.

“What if you die?!” 

Yoongi looks at you stunned, chuckling. “You’re not worried about yourself?”

You scoff. “I should have died a long time ago.”

“Me too, but a woman saved my life when she didn’t have to, gave me…a home.”

“W-We could expand our watch over to the agriculture district instead. That’s something we can fight and win. Maybe we should just focus on that?” Yoongi stays quiet. “Why help the Elites when half of them agree with the act?!” You ask angrily.

“If you want to stay…I’ll stay with you.” 

Every part of your being is screaming at you not to back down now. “I don’t want to lose you.” Yoongi kisses your forehead, hugging you close. 

To the capital.

You didn’t want to disappear and worry Hoseok and his Aunt, so you went to the antique store and bought paper, wrote a note using real ink for the first time in your life. You gave it Hoseok after leaving the hospital for the last time. Now three people knew your secret. Well, three people and a cat.

“Packed?” He asks.

You nod, on the verge of tears. You hated this place, why did it hurt so much to leave it?

Yoongi sensed your sadness, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m being silly,” you sniffle.

“You’re not, it’s okay to feel sad.”

You finally broke down in Yoongi’s arms. You were terrified and you were sad. You felt like you were being pulled away at sea, the currents of the revolution were too strong for you to swim through, you weren’t strong enough for this. You had no real power, it was all Yoongi, you were a fraud, and you were going to drown and take Yoongi down with you.

A soft purr pulled you away from your thoughts, Yoongi trying to console you the only way he knew how. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, damn if it didn’t work. He’s too cute, too loyal, too perfect for someone like you. You didn’t deserve him, but you were too in love to let him go now.

You lay against him, sharing your bed one last time. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my fight.”

“I might not understand everything, but I know what you’re fighting for is what I want to fight for too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. No matter where we go, my home is you.”

He kissed you softly, wanting to make the moment last. Soft kisses became stronger, deeper. Hands wrapped loosely around your waist and became tangled in your hair, cupping your cheek, firm, pulling you into him.

You moved on instinct, nestling your body close to his, pressing tight to his strong frame. Your heart began to beat so quickly it matched his own, your breath escalating against his lips. You didn’t want it to end, you wanted to be closer, always closer. You wanted all of Yoongi.

“Is this okay?” you ask between heated kisses, Yoongi nods quickly, groaning, head falling forward into the bend of your shoulder as your fingers wrap around his shaft, feeling him harden as you pump. His tongue runs along your shoulder, softly scratching your skin, making you shudder and moan.

His mouth envelops your own, this time with more urgency, tongue licking over your lips until you part them for him. He takes his time tasting and licking into your mouth, holding you tightly as you work to pleasure him.

“I want you, y/n.” Yoongi grunts, moving his body over yours, watching you intently, memorizing your heated expressions to memory. “Please?” he asks, licking his lips.

“Yes,” you nod, widening your legs for him. His fingers pull at your panties, growing a claw just to tear the fabric away. You pull your nightshirt quickly over your head before he can tear it off too.

He stills and admires your body before lips kiss the newly exposed skin as he presses his body down onto yours, slowly connecting himself to you, inside and out. You gasp, stretched by his length, try to steady harsh breathing. Having sex with Yoongi was nothing like you ever felt before, it was so gentle even when he rutted hard into you. It wasn’t just sex, it was making love. The pleasure, the love, it was overwhelming, his fingers exploring your body, pulling at your curves, pinching the most sensitive parts of you.

So much love, so much pleasure, your walls began tightening around his length until he couldn’t hold back any longer, mouth finding the sensitive part of your neck and biting down, releasing inside you. He relaxed into you, licking the mark, softly apologizing. It didn’t even hurt, you reassured him, the pain eclipsed by the pleasure and happiness you felt. It felt so good and right.

He kissed along your neck, down your shoulder, across your chest, moving lower and lower, determined to give you just as much pleasure as you gave him. Rough tongue licking across your sensitive skin until he fell in between your legs, admiring your beauty. You shiver as his fingers run along your sex, push the liquid overflowing out of you back inside, his come, possessively wanting to mark you still. He keeps his fingers deep inside you as he licks your core, tongue pressing over your nub sending shockwave of ecstasy  through you, building the pleasure inside you once more until you reach euphoria’s edge again, this time toppling over. He moans into your core satisfied, your walls clenching around Yoongi’s fingers. 

“Come here,” you finally rasp out, as Yoongi is all too happy to continue to lick you clean.

Hugging him close, tangling your limbs together, you fall asleep one last time in the largest district in the Neostate, the labor district.

---

“How the heck are we supposed to get a pass to visit the e-tech district?” you realize, asking Yoongi when you both step out of your home at sunrise.

He smirks.

-

“Hey Joon.”

“Ahh look at you! You look great.”

“Yeah...Well, Yoongi is not happy.” You frown.

“It will wash off, they do this to all the pets in the higher districts.” Yoongi growled and panted in his cage, his fur a bright shade of purple.

“Let’s go, ‘wife.’” Joon held out his elbow to you.

Loud hisses emit from the cage. You laugh awkwardly, wearing clothes that cost more than your entire wardrobe.

“So your family is from the financial district, eh?” You ask trying to break the tense silence. Joon, Yoongi, and you took a bus to the distribution district, and then once you arrived you transferred into a private driverless car sent by his family.

Namjoon smiles, “Yeah, want to know why I stayed down there, I assume?”

“The thought crossed my mind, yes.”

“Love is funny that way,” he sighs. “They really try to box us into different sectors, make it so hard for each of us to find happiness somewhere else, but when you find the one, nothing else matters.”

You clutch the altered ID card of Namjoon’s late wife.

“You stayed, even after, when you could have gone back...”

“I never had a reason to until now.” He taps on the cage, “Plus, I had a very stubborn patient who wouldn’t leave either,” he raises his voice, teasing Yoongi.

You make it to the financial district in Namjoon’s smart car. You walk with Namjoon to your hotel with Yoongi in tow and you've never seen so many...things. Useless things. What is that thing? Pouring out water you can't even drink. Where does the water go? Why are they wasting so much water?! Water is a scarce commodity, it doesn’t make any sense!

‘Neostate’s Safe Sector continues to riot as our Capital’s Citizen’s Defense Force begins deployment to our nation’s largest sector.’

“Did they just call our district…the Safe Sector.” You blink. “Namjoon places a finger over his mouth, signaling your silence.

He turns the hotel’s display screen’s volume up louder, closing the blinds. He clicks the release on your e-bracelet, placing both his and yours in his suitcase. “Surveillance here is much worse,” he whispers.

You mouth the words ‘safe sector,’ aghast.

Namjoon laughs quietly. “I mean, I don’t think they meant safe as in safety, but I see what you mean,” he whispers.

“Can I let him out now?” 

Namjoon nods and Yoongi stretches his tiny cat body outside his cage, bounding towards the hotel room’s bathroom. 

“Wait!” Namjoon whispers urgently, running after him. “Don’t transfo-”

“THE FU-” Namjoon covers Yoongi’s mouth. Finishing the proclamation, “ONLY ONE SINK?!”

“Huh?!” you rush towards the bathroom but it promptly shuts in your face.

“What’s wrong? I want to see!”

You hear snickering on the other end of the bathroom door and the soft whipping of a towel smacking marble, Yoongi taking out his anger on the poor bathroom’s sink. You can only imagine what he looks like now, you sigh, vowing to make Namjoon tell you in detail what happened.

-

“Do you know what a blueberry is?”

“No.” you say excitedly, you wait to hear Namjoon’s explanation.

In your lap, Yoongi bristles, purple tail puffing out in all directions.

-

“Even with your e-braclet completely offline, I’m still worried. An alert might still send off if they notice someone from the labor district in the capital. I sent it back to Hoseok, Yoongi said that it was okay.” Namjoon whispers.

You nod, a little disappointed your v-life was now truly non-existent. ‘Yoongi is home,’ you repeated in your mind, petting a purring Yoongi. “I got you a new one,” he hands you the shiny new tech. “It’s rudimentary, uses old satellite tech instead of the web. I programed my number and a few trusted others from other sectors. Now, remember your lines for the border-forcers?”

“Yeah, I’m visiting for the day to buy a dress because my husband is being honored with an award.” You say, gripping the leash connected to Yoongi as if your life depended on it, “...with my cat.”

Underneath your expensive clothes you wore all black. You walk in hand with Namjoon, pass a large metal installation sticking out of the sidewalk. It’s marked ‘emergency,’ a button with an icon of a woman engraved in the metal. You wonder what exactly would happen if you pushed it.

How many times has that button been pushed, you wonder, would this district even need a use for such a thing? You took in each passerby. There were so many…men. You’ve only passed by one other female and no children. The men here had manners, which only meant they kept their heated stares upon you for only moments before hurriedly going about their day. But as you pass another installation you think there must be a reason.

“I’m in surgery with a patient, that’s why I can’t come with you. But…” he waits for you to remember your lines.

“There’s a family friend waiting to escort me on the other side,” you repeat the lie.

“Great, you got this! Now, try to keep your chin up, act like you belong.”

Ugh.

---

You look across the city lights, so many buildings, so many people. Everything looked so new and clean and so different. The wind was even different here; crisper, fresher.

Under these circumstances, you could see why it was easier for most of them to ignore the abuse. You had to believe they wanted to stop it too. You had to believe the oppression broadcasted from other districts had echoed loud enough with an uncanny cry, familiar to them too.

Well, for now you’re here with just one other by your side and the hopes of your people on your shoulders.

“What do you think, Yoongi?”

Yoongi turns his head and smiles, stealing a kiss. “I’d say I have seven more lives, at least,” he muses.

“What’s the supposed to mean,” you huff, weary. You hold up the plastic map, it generates the landscape, Yoongi studies nine Xs across the terrain. “You know there are only two women on the council? And one of them is in favor of the act! Well,” you sigh, “I guess a 50/50 vote is the best odds we could hope for.” You think out loud.

Yoongi crouches down, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, settling on his back. “Ready?” he asks.

“No,” you mumble, “What did you mean by seven lives?”

“Just that...my last life, I want to spend just being happy with you.”

You hug him tighter, nodding. Smokes appears around you and wherever you and Yoongi go. The power goes out and the city shuts down. It’s not the women who are afraid, it’s the men.

---

The line “forged from pain,” what I meant was, written from pain. This is pain and anger and sadness of a woman in a society that wages war against women. Sorry, no lightheartedness from me for awhile. If you didn’t like this story or its ending, I’m not sorry. I will finish my WIPs soon, but I’m going to keep writing stories like this for now.

Spring Fling Masterlist

💜💜💜

baby (you complete us) 2

C H A P T E R   T W O

summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

chapter warnings: lots of insecurities, upset bangtan, determined bangtan, bangtan become simps, mentions of depression, mentions of disability, negative feelings towards disability, 

masterlist // chapter 1 // chapter 3

taglist: @imnotlauriane  @mageprincess7 @m1sss1mp @0funsite0  @strawberry-moonpies @this-isthe-way @singukieee @btsw1fe @gooooomz  @fluffy-canada-pancakes @carolinexkpop @agusfree @sakurarukas @iamkookiesforyou @skyys-universe @toughbook @plutoneu @whisperssuga @welcometomyworld13 @yuzon3 @wittyreader @jnghs @cyd0129 @exfolitae​ @queen-in-the-shadows​ @nen-nyy​ @pandxthings​ @schniti-is-in-the-house​ @juju-227592​ @jinseartharmysmoon​ @wooya1224​ @ddaeng-angmoh​ @gratefullygrateful​ @rorythme​ @gratefullygrateful​ @kimrona​ @jjjj-ssi​ @maysgarden​ @lovelgirl22​ @doublebunv​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @reallysparklychaos​ @jayjayy-57​

permanent taglist: @yourleftsock​​ @cryingpages​​ @strxwbloody​​  @drissteele​​ @dustyinkpages​​ @crushedblackroses​​  @blaaiissee​​  @iiitsmaria​​  @azazel-nyx​​  @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​​ @knjkitten​​ @kleirielk​​ @foreverweareyoung7​​ @lachimolala22019​​ @namuficxs​​ @94z-93​​ @kimgmzmc​​ @thenaverse​​ @veronawrites​

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Previously on baby (you complete us): 

They had another soulmate.

One who had been wearing theirs for ten years.

One who had been messaging them.

And their last message said they lost hope and were going to take the bracelet off.

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