Rich successful and sweet businessman Namjoon— CEO of large corporations but never loses his integrity and charm, but no one knows who still holds his heart.
Yoongi is perhaps the most feared man in Seoul +
as the most renowned mafia boss in the country, but as Namjoon's empire grew and Yoongi's only turned more sinister, he couldn't bear to see the one thing that he held that was untainted fall into what world he had handcrafted with blood-stained hands.
But as both lie awake at night, they wonder just what life would be like if they were still tucked within each other's grasp— lips on lips, skin on skin, and love strung between them letting what heaviness resides on their frames dissipate for even just a while until +
morning rears its head.
Yoongi misses the gentle love, how his spine would rest firmly against Namjoon's chest as small puffs of breath would heat his nape. He misses how his cheeks dimpled in bashful smiles and his charm all but lured him under— each day falling just that +
little harder.
Namjoon misses the passion, the bruising touches and intoxicating kisses, yet when afternoons turned languid Yoongi would become pliant within his hold, wanting nothing more than what tenderness he could give. He misses how his lips rounded each word, +
softening what harsh edges remain leaving honey-laced sounds to tumble and soothe what thoughts clouded his mind.
They were perfect, and perhaps that's why they had to part— Yoongi unwilling to change and Namjoon unable to sacrifice what he had so painstakingly built.
But neither can quite rid of what ache leaves their chests to heavy, and as their paths find their cross once more, both remain uncertain of what the other still holds.
Yoongi is sure Namjoon would have moved on— a family, someone who is far more deserving of what delicate +
love he so ardently brings.
Namjoon is all but certain Yoongi's past may never have quite faltered— that what they shared was merely a moment of stability. He wonders which man that works for him lies above him at night, and whether their love could ever be close to their own.
And as they part once more with strained smiles and niceties strewn between them, that ache grows just that little more in their chests, but perhaps time may grant them a second chance that they'll one day find the courage to take and hold each other within their grasp once more.
tags 🏷️
— mafia boss yoongi
— ceo namjoon
— angst
— happy ending
— both are bad at feelings
— #namgi#namgiau
angst wow who am i? dw in my head they get back together and nj helps yg change his ways, move out to the countryside or something idk redemption and all of that 😭 they adopt a cat together too i think that's important
i have a purely self-indulgent #yoonmin#yoonminau thought because i’m sick but
Omega Jimin is sick, his chest burns with each cough and every breath feels that little harder than the last— lungs constricting and exhales falling shaky. All he wishes for is his alpha beside him,
to hold him tight and press petal-soft kisses against his pounding head, sweet assurances when his skin burns, but Yoongi doesn’t.
Yet Yoongi knows the best cure for his sweet omega is warm soup and tea, freshly made by a careful hand and honey-lined to soothe his throat, +
and whilst his alpha all but growls to hold his mate in his arms, the brief moment apart will be far better, he deduces. It isn’t long before the soup is made— chicken and sweetcorn Jimin’s persistent choice— and carried into the bedroom on a tray.
a #namkook#namkookau where Namjoon holds flower arranging classes on Sunday afternoons. They’re fairly popular, people all but wishing to attend to see the charming florist speak passionately about flowers and their meanings, how each species can be arranged to create +
beautiful bouquets.
It’s a usual Sunday during the height of spring, flowers all but in bloom and people line outside his small store for his coveted class, yet what Namjoon doesn’t expect is a young man to join them. Far younger than him, Namjoon thinks, with sweet +
petal-rose lips and wide eyes housing all of the constellations he wishes he could recite. His name, Jungkook, perhaps equally as darling, and he learns the man is timid with a laughter much more syrup-lined than blush-tinted honeysuckles. He learns fast, lips parting in a +
Alpha Yoongi has perhaps never seen an omega quite as perfect, yet as he steps into the music store with solemn eyes and downturned lips, Yoongi realises simply who he is — the nation’s idol, Jimin. He hadn’t expected to ever cross paths with the +
idol, nor had he thought that Jimin would come begging for the alpha to take him in, life simply too much to bear and all he wishes for is solace.
And that’s what Yoongi provides in the form of late nights before open fires, the slight crackle a background to the guitar +
that’s never far from his grasp, and as the omega’s scent sweetens — impossibly ripe peaches and the most delectable honey — Yoongi wonders whether he is beginning to harbour those same butterflies that flutter against the walls of his chest.
Perhaps it’s all Jimin has ever wanted, someone to hold him and make his eyes roll and lips part as silent gasps fall, and he didn’t quite think it’d come in the form of recluse university student Yoongi. His hands are calloused and lips chapped, +
eyes sharp yet skin ivory-soft, and whilst Jimin could could the times he’s woken in beds that don’t quite feel right — polyester sheets scratching his skin and little more than sweat a fine film over his body — no one could quite believe such a sweet man could ever tame him.
Yoongi is kind, the sort to drive you home after one too many glasses leaving your head to spin and face to numb, and his eyes hold all that Jumin has ever longed for in distant galaxies and constellations he could never name. Yet when night ascends, Jimin has perhaps met his *
+