Yoongi oneshot [collections]

My everything

Beep, beep, beep, be- click

I sighed, trying to soak in all of the warmth from the bed and the person sleeping next to me. From behind me I heard an angry grumble as a head buried further into the crook of my neck, soft hairs tickling my cheek.

“Yoongi,” I whispered reaching behind to card through his dark bangs, “babe I need to get ready for work.”

“Skip.” he grumbled.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He only grumbled again, but slightly loosened his hold on my waist, allowing me to slip through. After quickly freshening up in the bathroom, I rushed toward the closest, hoping I could arrive a few minutes early to work.

“Yoongi, love, where is my shirt?” I said while simultaneously pulling off the oversized white t-shirt I had been wearing previously- his white t-shirt. A sleepy Yoongi appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, pulling my hands down along with the shirt while backing me into a wall.

“Stay.” he said groggily, giving me a sleepy kiss.

“Are you sick? You’re never this romantic.” I reached up to feel his forehead, genuinely concerned and sure enough it was burning with a fever. I sighed, “Go back to bed, you need to rest. I’ll buy medicine on the way home ok?”

More grumbles, but he wasn’t releasing me from my space on the wall and I needed to go before I was late. I spotted my shirt hanging up on the drier rack and quickly slipped underneath his arm and ran to put it on, along with my skirt.

“Please go back to bed,” I pleaded before placing a quick kiss on his cheek and rushing out the door, “Love you!”

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Work was as it usually was. It seemed like days since I had last been home but in reality I had only been gone a normal workday. Everyday more papers piled onto my desk, everyday more scolding from a strict boss whom I could never please, Everyday seemed longer, everyday I seemed to dread more. Sitting there on the bus I wondered what would happen if I just quit, but I couldn’t do that could I? What other job was there? It seemed as if I was trapped.

“Yoongi?” I called out after unlocking the door and letting myself in, “Love? Are you sleeping?”. After a quick walk around the apartment I concluded that he had gone out, hopefully he had taken the day off from work because he definitely needed the rest.

I was tired. There was no other way to say it. It was a heavy feeling that had seeped deep into my bones. Usually I would come home and Yoongi was always there as a distraction. I would come home, he would be here, the tiredness was balled up and stored somewhere to be forgotten. There was already so much for him to stress about. The music industry was just as stressful, if not more. The last thing he needed was to be burdened by all of my problems as well. Today Yoongi was not here when I arrived, so I was left to do the forgetting by myself. I ambled over to the TV picking up the remote hoping some mindless activity  would help, but I couldn’t even bring myself to turn the device on. What did I even want to watch anyways?

The tears fell down my face before I could think to condense them, but once the first one fell there was no stopping them. Yoongi wasn’t here to see anyways, it was ok to be weak for just a little bit. And so I did. I let all of the stress, all of the tired from the years and years of working at this company just rush out of my body in horrible, broken sobs.

“Y/n, what the shit?” I wanted to look up, to see his face, but on the other hand I was ashamed. I didn’t want him to see me like this, I tried to stop, I really did. I tried to gather all of my willpower to stop the tears from falling but I couldn’t, and that admittance to defeat only made them come faster.

“Y/n why are you crying, what happened? Oh my god please tell me something.” I felt hesitant arms snake around my frame and pull me close, I could feel my tears soaking an old sweatshirt, but I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him. It was awkward, the way he held me. I knew Yoongi was never good with emotions, also being one to keep to himself, but I appreciated the fact that he was trying.

This time his voice came softer, though uncertain. “Y/n I swear if someone did something to you, just tell me who and I’ll fuck them up for you, baby please stop crying I don’t know what to do when you’re like this.”

I took a breath, trying to compose myself, but still couldn’t muster the strength to compose myself so I simply shook my head, face still buried in his chest, though at least the sobs had reduced to sniffles. He waited patiently for me, the silence only broken by my jagged breathing and sniffling. Finally I was able to manage “It’s- just- just- st- stress.”.

“I told you, you should have stayed home from work today.” he said like a parent scolding their small child.

“You- you better have st- stayed home. You were s- sick.” I managed.

“Yeah, I stayed home and slept the entire day, but I realised we were out of coffee so I went out to get some.” he began rubbing soothing circles on my back, “And then I come home to my lovely wife in tears so obviously I’m confused.”

At that I couldn’t help but chuckle. He had never called me his “lovely wife” before. It was so out of character. “L- lovely wi- wife?” I sniffed, though the tone was light.

“Am I not allowed to call you my beloved wife? We are married after all.” he said, obviously teasing now, knowing it was helping me feel better.

“Y- you really are sick, you- you’re never romantic.” I giggled through sniffles.

“Well then can I never start? Come on, let me see your beautiful face.”

“No!” I exclaimed before burying my face back into his chest, not wanting him to see my puffy eyes and possibly running nose.

“After being sick all day, I don’t even get to see my lovely wife’s face? Obviously I have done something wrong to deserve such punishment.” he went on, allowing playful sarcasm to meld with his tone.

“It’s not lovely right now.” I combatted.

“Oh shut up pabo.” he said, pushing my body off him so that he could get a proper view of my face. I quickly diverted my eyes, not wanting to face him. “See? Still as beautiful as always.” he continued before lifting my left hand to kiss where the wedding band was. I giggled a little bit, finally meeting his eyes despite the rosy blush spreading across my cheeks.

“Hey you’re the sick one, shouldn’t I be taking care of you?” I pointed out.

“You’re always taking care of me. I can’t believe that we’ve been married 3 years and you still haven’t been comfortable enough to open up to me like that. Should I be offended?” He replied in mock offense.

I giggled and lightly shoved him back, rolling my eyes slightly, “It’s not like you’re one to openly share your emotions either.”

“Fair.”

‘So what now?”

“We get take out because I’m too lazy to cook.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, opening it up to the number pad.

“Yoongi do you even know how to cook?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope, but I’m sure as hell not making you cook tonight.”

I laughed a little, letting my head fall back onto his chest as he pressed the phone to his ear, “Oh god, why are we like this?” He silently shrugged a reply then proceeded to order, but really my question should have been “How did I end up with the best husband in the world?” but he didn’t need to hear that. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sound of his beating heart. It was comforting knowing that he would be here for me through everything.

“Thank you.” I whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear.

“Thank you for being my everything.”