House Of Hope

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House of Hope

Pairing: OT7 x Reader, OT7 x OT7 (ot6 x namjoon) [completed!]

Details: hybrid!bts, a/b/o dynamics, asexual!reader, anxious!reader, american!reader, polyamory, prejudice, found family

Summary: Your best friend offers you a job as a caregiver for seven hybrids.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts.

moodboards: seokjin I yoongi I hoseok I namjoon I jimin I taehyung I jungkook

playlist

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Part 1

Prologue: got it

Chapter 1: let’s go to the mall

Chapter 2: driver’s license

Chapter 3: scenting

Chapter 3.5: that’s my ego (Namjoon POV)

Chapter 4: what’s a rut-partner?

Chapter 5: pre-rut

Chapter 6: grooming

Chapter 7: potential mate

Chapter 8: daisy chains and drunkards

Chapter 9: hybrid flu

Chapter 10: touch

Chapter 11: a death in the family

Chapter 12: dissociating in Daegu

Chapter 13: inheritance…

*

Part 2

Chapter 14: save me

Chapter 15: Namjoon’s theory

Chapter 16: surrounded on all sides

Chapter 17: confessions

Chapter 18: kisses

Chapter 19: how do you like your eggs?

Chapter 20: the more you care about someone, the more they can hurt you

Chapter 21: shelter

Chapter 22: at the dance

Chapter 23: boundaries

Chapter 24: what happiness is

Chapter 25: pack grounds

Chapter 26: trusting yourself and others

Chapter 27: a history of self-denial

Chapter 28: recovery is a process (and not linear)

Chapter 29: acceptance and rejection

Chapter 30: Jimin on the front line

Chapter 31: this moment is ours

Epilogue: a lot to think about

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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

💜💜💜

Diary Of a Part Time Puppy (JJK)

(Magical Realism, Omegaverse, Hurt/comfort, Eventual Polyamory) 

Summary:  Both you and Jungkook are outsiders in your respective species. You- a witch without a coven, and Jungkook- a wolf without a pack. But together you make something of a family. 

Pairing: alpha Jk x reader, Eventual Ot7 x reader, eventual polyamory, 

Tags: Alpha! Jk, Witch! reader, Touch-starved Jk, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, childhood neglect, implied child abuse, parent loss, orphan! Jk, loneliness, depression, Isolation, Astraphobia, Jungkook needs a hug, magical realism, mention of parallel universes, elements of suspense

W/c: 12.4k

A/n: This is for everyone who’s never been loved in the way that they needed to be loved, never gotten affection as easily as they needed it <3 I firmly believe everyone has a love story waiting for them out there <3 and until you find it you can find a little bit of it here. there will be four parts to this series! 

Jeon Jungkook has never been comfortable in his wolf form.

When he was younger, shifting was a one-way ticket to earning a scolding or worse- an open fist or rough pinch to his snout. Being human was by comparison a little bit less likely to incur pain. Sure it took a lot of energy to make sure his feet stayed feet and didn’t become paws and a lot of concentration to make sure his eyes stayed human, and that his ears were just rounded instead of pointed and tall. 

But it was worth it. It’s always worth trying to appear human. 

Jungkook learned early on, the utility of appearing normal, in being small and quiet and obedient in order to earn a pittance of love. 

Keep reading

💜💜💜

until death

— summary: until death do you part, you are theirs and they are yours

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, slight angst, demon!au

— word count: 4.4k

— warnings: none

— commission for @daisyjoons

“What’s that in your hand?”

“H-Huh?” 

“The flower,” Seokjin beckons at the rose he has in his hand, his tall figure and deadpanned eyes staring down at the man, it almost leaves him wanting to pee his pants right on the spot. “It’s not for the baker, now is it?”

Six more pairs of eyes stare directly down at him and yet he still has the audacity to say; “Yes, it’s..it’s for miss Y/N.”

“Ah.”

Suddenly the air in the little shop shifts and a sharp, cold breeze rushes through the room despite the fact that today should have been nothing but a pleasant breeze. Little ashes of smoke begin to appear from the thin air of the floors of the shop, sauntering around as customers sitting in their designated seats pick their feet up out of fear, their whispers of panic raising, and the man at the center of the demons’ wrath feels sharp ice crawling all over his body.

“It seems you want trouble,” Jungkook says as he takes a step forward, causing the man to step back, and so Jungkook keeps following along until he backs himself against the counter, trembling in sight while the rest of the people hold their breaths, too frightful to make a move in fear of being on the receiving end of the demons’ wrath.

“I-I don’t want trouble,” the poor man stutters.

Taehyung clicks his tongue in irritation while Jimin scoffs.

“Clearly you do,” Namjoon says. “You uttered her name. In the demon world, no one is allowed to utter someone’s name so carelessly. Only if they mean something to you and if the person has allowed you to utter their name.”

“I-I’m sorry sir, I-I didn’t know.”

“And giving roses,” Yoongi plucks the flower right out of his fingertips, “means an eternal love you are willing to spend the rest of your life with.” He burns the petty little thing right before the man’s eyes, all the while keeping his glare pointed right at him, causing the guy to visibly shallow a hard lump.

“Do you understand where you’re wrong?” Hoseok threatens, an arm propped up against Yoongi’s shoulder, hovering.

“I-I-” He looks like he’s about to piss his pants.

“Do you, understand?” So Hoseok reiterates, deeper, darker, graver. “Yes or no?”

“I..y-yes, yes—”

“What are you doing?”

A voice.

A sweet, sweet voice more precious and sweeter than the nectar the butterflies flock themselves onto, than any blood that can satisfy a vampire, than the sun that gives humans light and nutrients. A voice they love more than anything in this world.

Except the woman herself whom it belongs to.

They turn in an instant, ears perking up, head snapped, to find you standing before the door that leads to the backrooms, holding onto a tray of desserts they know you’ve made just for them, and their faces immediately soften.

The room brightens up, the shadows beginning to melt away into thin air in the same way they appeared, and Jimin is just about to rush up to you if it weren’t for your eyes suddenly shifting from them.

Your attention isn’t on them.

“You’re scaring the poor man!” You quickly say as you put your tray down onto the counter, rushing to untie the apron strings from behind, rushing in between them and the gentleman, an arm extending as you force Jungkook to back off. “Not just him but my customers!” You turn to address the guy. “Are you alright sir? I apologize for everything.”

He takes one glance behind you and instantly freezes up once more, quick to shake his head vehemently at the dark eyes staring straight into his soul — unbeknownst to you.

“I-I’m okay! I’m okay!” He blurts out before simply scurrying out the door before you can get another word in.

You stare at the scene, blinking at his sudden rush, before turning around to place your hands upon your hips, all the while the boys are quick to change up their expressions, acting as if they’ve been innocent all along.

“You just lost me a customer. Would you like to explain why you were interrogating the poor dude?” You start, brows furrowed, shoulders tense, chin slightly protruding and they know you’re trying to be all high and mighty but in their eyes, you just look like an upset bunny trying to fight seven wolves. “You really need to keep yourselves in check and stop summoning your shadows to show up out of nowhere, you know that scares people. How are my customers supposed to eat and drink and have a calm peaceful day if you just show up out of nowhere and deliberately make a scene?”

“M-miss Y/N, we’re fine but please—” An older woman tries to appease you, her approach timid as she holds her hands up, trying to calm you down in fear of the men in the room who’re the reason for your anger. “You don’t have to stand up for our sake.”

“We’re fine, you don’t have to do this.”

“I’d really love it if I didn’t have to witness our favorite baker in town—”

“What are you talking about, ma’am, they need a proper scolding,” you say otherwise, clearly unaware of the public’s concern for your life, being as you’re literally standing up against seven tall, masculine men who can literally bend the Earth and destroy this town with a flick of their wrist.

“Miss Y/N, please—”

“It’s alright, just go back to your coffee. I assure you I can handle this.”

“No please—”

You ignore their pleas to turn back around, that business smile fading the second you meet their eyes and they frown, hating the way you sounded kind to your customers and yet don’t bother to send them a smile.

“So then, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

“It’s not even that big of a—”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms before your chest, looking up at them with a serious expression and they know they can’t not listen to whatever you say.

Only you can ever make them bend a knee.

“Sorry,” Jimin grumbles under his breath but you pretend you didn’t hear it.

“What was that?”

He sighs and steps forward, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close, much to the audience’s dismay, and pepper kisses upon your cheeks. “You heard me darling, I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry. We’re sorry,” Jungkook joins in, a hand on your head as he presses a kiss to your temple.

You feel your heart lighting up, a smile waiting to creep up but you know not to give in just yet. “And to my customers?”

Namjoon crosses a hand over to his heart, giving the people a light bow. “We apologize for the inconvenience, dear customers of Y/N’s,” he says, and while they simply look back with mouths agape and widened pupils, frozen in their spots, he turns his head back your way, a cheeky little grin spread across his face as if asking for a compliment for doing the thing that you asked him to do.

You bite back a grin, seeing how obedient they are when it comes to you, but you know that if you let them see even the smallest bit of that, they'll disregard the people around them and simply coddle you to their heart’s content.

So you take Jimin’s hand and lead him into the backrooms, knowing the rest are quick to follow along, all the while leaving your customers blinking and rubbing their eyes, wondering if what they had just seen was right or if it had been simply a figment of their imaginations.

After all, everyone knows demons would never yield to a human that easily, much less care for them in the way they just treated you.

“Someone looks stressed.”

Once you’re finally left alone with your demons without any eyes kept on you, you let your guard down, smiling ruefully as you take a good look at the seven of them. Demons don’t live on sleep in the way humans need it, they get their energy elsewhere, but sometimes there are days you feel as if perhaps taking a nap will help them.

They look so tired.

“But that still doesn’t mean you can come around here and demand things out of my customers.”

Yoongi grunts, rolling his eyes at your words like a child hating to be scolded. “I get it, I get it,” he repeats exasperatedly when he walks over to place his head against your chest, letting you run your fingers through your hair to coddle him.

“But he was trying to give you roses,” Taehyung says as he clicks his tongue with irritation, that glare he has on is always enough to kill someone if he could, and for a good while you were scared of it yourself, but luckily you’ve gotten used to it. Taehyung would never hurt you after all.

And you know exactly what roses mean in the demon language. It was what they gave you when they confessed their undying love to you after all, a day you will never forget, a day they swept you off your feet and the very day you became forever theirs. You can never forget what those roses mean to them because to demons who’re almost incapable of feeling, much less love another, if a rose is given by them unto another, it is something one must never doubt.

“You do understand that roses aren’t as significant as they are to us humans, don’t you?” You remind them, a light chuckle leaving your lips when Taehyung drops his head onto your shoulder, asking for the same attention you’re giving to Yoongi. “I mean they mean a lot to me because they mean a lot to you but to humans in general, roses are just another sign of love.”

“Exactly, love. That’s a universal language and he was trying to steal you away from us.” You feel Hoseok’s arms slide around your waist from behind, lips pressing onto the nape of your neck.

“He didn’t know,” you try to excuse the action of the poor man who you didn’t even know was trying to confess to you just a few minutes prior.

But they’re having none of that.

“Who goes around professing their love to someone they don’t even know that well? Did he really believe a pretty girl like you would remain loveless by men all around her?”

You laugh awkwardly at Seokjin’s words. “What’re you trying to say by that?”

“He should know his place,” he says as he takes your chin from under his fingertips, bringing you forth to his face, “and that you, who is beloved by many, wouldn’t have already stolen the hearts of others around her. You attract after all, and just like those pretty little sweets you make every day before the town can even wake up, a simple glance at you can cause quite the addiction.”

“I..” You avert your eyes, cheeks heating because you know exactly what he’s trying to imply. “I don’t think I..”

“You don’t?” The eldest raises a brow as if daring you to further challenge his belief.

“W-well…” You stumble on your words before clearing your throat. “Sometimes too many sweets can be bad for you.”

“Well, luckily I have a sweet tooth.” A small little smirk curl along the corner of his lip, a low chuckle leaving him just as he leans in to capture your lips, leaving your heart to skip a thousand beats faster than its initial pounding.

He doesn’t kiss you for too long but even then, once he leaves you, you’re a blushing mess.

“Heart’s pounding rather fast,” Yoongi states, and you’re stumbling over your words once again.

“I..I-I wasn’t…”

“How long has it been? You’re still swooning over such a small thing?” Jungkook teases.

“It’s alright, I quite like it actually,” Seokjin says, his hand reaching up to tuck it behind your ear. “It’s quite refreshing seeing what we do still makes her react like this. You love us that much, huh darling?”

“If you’re here just to tease me, please just return to whatever it was you were doing before coming here.”

“Hey, don’t act like you don’t like it,” Namjoon pulls you back in when you try to run away to hide your embarrassment. They hold you in close, grips so steady you know there’s really no chance you’ll ever be able to escape.

Not that you want to.

And seeing those looks on their faces, you know they know that fact more than anyone else.

After all, these days can sometimes be rare; the days when they show up before you unexpectedly, most times without ever telling you beforehand. These days are the days you cherish the most, when you can be in their arms just like this, without ever feeling as if they would ever let you go.

Not until it’s time for them to leave. Not until they have to leave.

And it’s in those moments when they do have to leave do you feel the most lonely. When you have to stay behind, taking a moment to gather yourself, remember their holds and kisses, before returning to your baking with a customer smile on your face so no one knows just how lonely you are when your demons leave, knowing you can do nothing but wait until their next visit.

There are times when waiting takes days, weeks, and sometimes even a whole month and you’re always left wondering just where they are and where they’ve gone and what they’re doing.

But you know you’d never tell them just how lonely you really are when they’re gone.

After all, the times they visit are for the times of loving and holding one another. It isn’t a time to dwell on things that don’t matter, it isn’t a time to cry and wish and to hope. It’s a time to cherish what’s before you before they have to leave.

Only when they’re gone can you actually dwell on your loneliness.

“If something ever goes wrong or if you simply need us, you can call us anytime.”

You stare at the little bell shaped into a red rose one lonely night while standing under the stars in the middle of your garden.

It’s the garden of red roses they created for you, a garden that can never wilt no matter the seasons, time, or period. It dies only when the owner who received these flowers dies.

It will wilt only once you’ve wilted.

“Just how long will you continue to live, little ones?” You hold a hand out to feel the soft petals of the roses upon your fingertips, smiling at how pretty they are. Not even one petal is torn or hurt. They all look alive and well, alive and flourishing.

Jungkook says they reflect their owners’ age as you know that one day in the far future, these flowers will probably begin to look dainty and frail as well, and yet you don’t wish to ever see these flowers growing old with you.

Growing old means nearing death.

Growing old means wilting.

And then what will happen to the ones you’ll be leaving behind? The lifespan of a human does not last forever after all, and the more you think about it, the more you come to understand that they’ve got all the time in the world, hence they don’t ever look sad or griefed whenever they come to visit days or weeks or months later.

It is because to demons, the passing of time is simply but a second walking by.

Yet to you, every ticking second means a second closer to wilting away.

You let out a sigh, turning from the flowers to take a step forward towards your house when a harsh wind passes by, causing your shawl to fly off, and in an attempt to grab for it, you’ve forgotten about the bell you had in your hand, causing the little flower shape to fall from your hand and jingle as it hits the ground.

You gasp as you freeze in place because in just mere seconds, you know you aren’t alone anymore.

Seven presence right behind you.

Who would have thought it’d work this fast?

You quickly pick your bell up, eyes scanning forward at the shawl that flew off onto a rose bush, and rush forward to take it back because of how cold the night air has gotten.

“Well someone most certainly called us here on purpose, didn’t she?”

You turn back at Yoongi’s sarcastic comment once you’ve gotten your shawl to wrap it back onto yourself.

“Sorry! It was the wind,” you quickly say as you rush back to their side. “The bell was in my hand and when my shawl flew away, I forgot about it so when I went to reach for my shawl, the bell fell out and now here you are, summoned by the jingle.”

“So you’re not in immortal danger?”

At Seokjin’s question, you take a look around, wanting to laugh a bit at the situation. “Uh nope! Looks like I’m perfectly fine.”

“So you’ll only call us if you’re in immortal danger? How disappointing.” Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his lips pouting.

“What? You want me to call you if I miss you or something?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” You place the bell securely into your pocket then tighten the shawl around your body. “Anyways, it’s pretty cold out here. You should get back to what you were doing. As you can see, I’m not hurt nor am I in any danger. In the meantime, I think it’s time for me to head to bed.”

You begin to walk off to your door again when Namjoon stops you.

“What were you doing out here?” He asks and you stop in your tracks, shrugging.

“Just thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“About immortality and stuff.”

“Immortality?” Jimin steps up to drape an arm around your shoulder in order to turn you back around to where they’re standing, at the same time helping you to keep warm against the night breeze. “What’s got you thinking about immortality, darling? Are you finally thinking about how to become one?”

“You know I like my human life.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Something about growing old is part of what makes human life so beautiful or whatever.”

“I don’t understand why death is beautiful to you,” Taehyung says.

“Well on the other hand, don’t you think immortality is somewhat of a curse?” You ask and they look upon themselves as if they’ve never given that idea a chance before.

“Why would it be a curse?”

“Well…” Your words trail off slowly and yet they wait for your explanation, eyes steady on you, ears open to whatever you have to say, and you play along with your fingers, nails digging into the skin a bit. “When I die…you’ll still have thousands of years left to live.” You avoid their eyes, staring down at the ground. “...Won’t you miss me?”

They grow silent.

Everything grows silent and you hear nothing but the little breeze that passes by ever so often, as well as the cicadas out in the night, singing their sweet songs, a melody mirroring the birds in the early morning.

“So you’re saying,” Hoseok begins, “that you’ll die before us.”

“It’s inevitable,” you say, looking up again. “Forty years may not mean a lot to you but forty years into the future means me getting old and gray and my health deteriorating. Humans are living and dying at the same time. I get closer to death with each passing day.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You know it’s true.” You watch as Jungkook turns to look at the flowers in the garden, his hand reaching out to touch one of them. “I’d never want to die and let you live through years of heartache. I’d never want to leave you behind in this world and no matter how happy we will be, death is something that is inevitable to come for me, you know that. Though I wouldn’t ever want you to follow along either. I don’t want to die together.”

“So you love your human life but you don’t want to die and leave us behind, but you also don’t want us to choose our own death in following you right behind, and you don’t wish to become an immortal.” Namjoon takes a step forward into your proximity, their expressions more grave than any other times you’ve ever seen them — except in those moments when you’re in immortal danger right before them. It frightens you a bit wondering what’s going on inside their heads, but what frightens you most is the inevitable future threatening to tear you apart.

“What is it that you want, Y/N?” Namjoon asks and you take a moment to think.

What is it that you want?

Why’re you thinking about immortality and death? Why was the wind listening to you when you were left to yourself in this garden? Why did it hear your silent plea in wishing to see them and therefore taking your fate into their hands and causing you to accidentally call for your demons?

Why does any of this even matter?

“I don’t know…” You look down at your feet, fingers unable to keep still, the vision before you blurring. “I-I don’t know,” you admit truthfully and when you look up again, their eyes widen at the sight of tears brimming along your waterline, waiting to fall down any second now. “I don’t want to live forever but I don’t…I don’t want to ever leave you behind and…and…I don’t know what I want. All I know is that…is that even though I enjoy this human life, I hate how different we are. I hate how different we think because to you, a day passing by means nothing. A week, a month, maybe even a year. A year without me is nothing to you. You can let time go by and it wouldn’t mean a thing because you get to live forever but to me…to me….I..”

You swallow the lump that wishes to cut your voice off, forcing the words out. “I hate waiting. I hate not knowing when it is you’ll be visiting again. I hate each day that passes, I hate it when you leave me, I hate being lonely and empty, I hate it when I have to wait. I hate it. I hate all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know,” you cry, ignoring the tears that slip by when they close in on you. A few hiccups threaten to leave your voice behind but you continue talking through it all. “It’s just…I-I didn’t bring it up because I know you get busy and even if you aren’t so busy, I…I thought that, well, if the passing of time doesn’t affect you, why should it affect me?”

“You should have spoken up, my love.”

“You know if you asked for the world, we’d give it to you in a heartbeat, right? Why would you think we wouldn’t stop anything and everything if you just asked to be with us?”

“I don’t know,” you cry again, letting the last syllable drag out as more tears fall from your eyes and they’re quick to panic, realizing their reassuring words probably sounded more like them scolding you.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. You don’t have to cry anymore.”

“We know. We know now so it’ll be alright.”

“I’ll tell you what, become one of us.”

Your cry falls silent as only sniffles and small hiccups leave your lips when you hear those words. You blink up at Taehyung, slightly confused. “..What?”

“You heard him, become one of us.”

“I told you I don’t want to live forever.”

“You don’t have to live forever, darling.”

“I..I don’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We can live together for as long as we want and when you get tired of life, when you get tired of immortality, just say the word and we’ll make it happen in a heartbeat.”

“...Really?”

“Of course.” Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead just as you feel Taehyung’s hands wiping your tears away and Seokjin handing you a tissue he created from thin air. “Hoseok said, didn’t he? You could ask us for the world and we’d give it to you without question.”

“We’d burn the world if it means making you happy.”

“But what if I just want you and not the whole world?”

Soft smiles appear upon their faces, softening their features, whispering sincere affirmations of love.

“Oh darling, you already have us.”

“And you’ll have us even after death takes us all away.”

“But…I thought…” with the last remaining tears wiped away, you take a small little glance towards the rose bushes, eyes scattering off with confusion, “doesn’t immortality mean…forever? How would I..-How would we just…leave this world?”

“There is always an answer to everything,” you feel warmth seeping through the palm of Yoongi’s hand when he caresses your face, “and just like the stars that burn bright in the night, lasting for eons on end, they too have their beginning and ending and one day they will burn away as well.”

“Then, technically..you aren’t cursed with immortality?”

“Well technically, yes, but in theory, going against the ways of life means going against the laws of the world, which also means throwing things off balance, so it also means receiving death sentences for throwing off said balance.”

You take a moment to blink, trying to comprehend what Jungkook just said, before simply letting out an “Oh.”

They chuckle at your silence and you feel Jimin ruffle your hair. “Though of course we’d never let anyone touch you, not even the world. There are other ways to leave an immortal life but it’ll happen when we get there so don’t worry your little head off about how everything works.”

“You just have to trust us,” Seokjin agrees.

“You’ll trust us, won’t you?” Hoseok asks.

You take his hands in yours, eyes determined without a glint of hesitation. “I trust you with my life and until death do us part, it is yours to keep.”

Taehyung chuckles at the sentiment before repeating the vow you’ve just spoken. “Until death do us part.”

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Eunoia // Ch. 24

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 8.2k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23

If you read this, please take some time to vote for BTS at the MAMAs on the Mnet Plus app and for the AMAs on the website VoteAMAs.com or on Twitter.

The taglist is now closed.

There was a deep lull after dinner, surrounded by fairylights on a late summer night with your bellies full of delicious food. You and Seokjin had cooked Michelin-level lasagna and for dessert the best custard tarts you had ever tasted. Seokjin truly was extraordinarily talented at cooking and baking. He could have been one of the best chefs in the world. The only obstacle was his DNA. There were no famous hybrid chefs, probably there were no hybrid chefs at all. For most people it was near impossible to look past the animal ears and tails.

“What are you thinking about?” Seokjin asked. You were the only ones left at the circular bench around the table. You were laying with your back against his side and your head on his shoulder.

“Nothing. Everything,” you said.

You couldn’t see his smile but you imagined it lighting up his face. Seokjin was always beautiful, he was one of the most beautiful people you had ever met. But when he was smiling, he was magical.

“You can never turn it off, can you?” he asked, bumping his hand with yours. You didn’t hesitate to take hold of it and intertwine your fingers. 

You looked up at the stars. Away from the heart of the city, they were bright and endless. “I don’t think that’s possible. It’s part of my charm.”

That pulled a laugh out of him and you reveled in it, in the ordinary sanctity of the moment. You took in the view of the garden and hybrids scattered around.

Namjoon and Hoseok were sitting by the pool, their feet dipped in the water, while Hoseok spoke excitedly about something moving his hands around, his tail wagging behind him. Namjoon listened to him like he didn’t want to miss a word falling from his lips. Jimin was curled around Yoongi on the grass, his eyes were closed and you could tell that he was purring without having to hear him. Yoongi was gazing at the stars peacefully, his arms at his sides. Further away, Jungkook and Taehyung were flipping through Jungkook’s latest sketchbook. Taehyung would stop him from turning the page sometimes to run his fingers over a sketch.

Taehyung was still reserved but he was slowly but steadily bonding with the other hybrids. Jungkook had happily told you that they had spent the afternoon painting together and proudly showed off their masterpiece, an artistic mess of colorful lines and funny faces that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a modern art gallery. You had said you were going to hang it up in the gallery unless Taehyung—whose cheeks had turned red for the first time—wanted to keep it. Timidly and in the best english he could master, he asked if he could take it to his room. While the lasagna was in the oven, you and Jungkook put it up on the wall above his bed.

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Before I Leave You (Pt.44)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You should have come to jungkook about your predicament with the pack alpha sooner. He’s got solutions and a box full of sex toys. “There you go- oh my god you’re soaking the pillow- guess you really like this one a lot huh?”

Tags: Sub! M/c, Implied switch! Jk, Jk has a small dick, Pillow princess m/c, Dildos, Use of Sex toys, Penetrative sex, Pussy dilation, Size Kink, Pain kink, Rough sex (m/c deals with soreness and discomfort after), Squirting, Cuteness kink, Humiliation kink, voyeurism, Biting, Rule Breaking, dumbification, dacriphilia, Improper aftercare, morally grey bdsm etiquette, Referenced passed eating disorders, a dusting of Mafia shit as per usual. 

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin

W/c: 13k 

A/n:  Happy Jinnie Day! there isn’t too much of him in this chapter- although there is a bit of him in the next one. it probably won’t take me a full three weeks to get the next chapter out as it’s already partially written <3  This chapter was greatly inspired by Jungkook’s world cup performance. 

Previous Chapter -Masterlist

Yoongi never thought he could Murder a cat, But staring at you and noodle; happily curled up in your lap where Yoongi’s head would be on any other morning, Yoongi starts to reconsider his stance on Cat-ricide.

The offending animal glares back with as much spite as his 12-pound 6 oz frame can muster. You’d told anyone who would listen about noodles vet visit; the cat’s weight, his prognosis on a nasty scar on his tummy, preening at how he’d only bitten the vet tech once.

(Namjoon might have slid the vet a 50 after, as an apology.)

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