dear you,

He’d done it. 

He’d marked you. 

Yoongi slips back into the dark warmth of his bedroom and closes the door behind him with a soft click. He leans back against it, tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling. He can still taste you on his tongue, still feel the way your pulse had fluttered under his touch, feel your frame pressed tight against his. He drags a hand back through his hair and sighs. “...Shit.”

This was not how things were supposed to go. 

He’d been prepared to hate you, in all honesty. He’d taken one look at the fancy apartment and decided you were just like every other human he’d ever had the misfortune of living with: selfish and self-absorbed, too concerned with your own appearance to give a thought to the lives of others around you. 

But, then he’d actually met you. 

You were the polar opposite of what he thought. You cared about other people- you cared about him. Even when he pushed you away, even when he acted like a complete dick to you, you still let him come back. You still let him be close to you. 

Something unfamiliar twists in his chest at the thought of you, smaller than him and clinging onto him with all the strength you had. This was dangerous; he was toeing a deadly line. 

“What’s wrong?” Jimin is curled up in the center of their too-large bed, his head propped up on his hand and his tail tip flicking lazily. Behind him, Taehyung is already dozing, his arm thrown over the smaller man’s waist and his shaggy head tucked in the crook of his neck. 

Yoongi looks down at the pair of them, comfortable, warm and safe for the first time in a long time and his heart goes soft. He pads over, drops onto the mattress and settles on his side, facing them. He places a gentle hand on Taehyung’s head, petting him between his ears and presses a soft kiss to Jimin’s forehead. “Nothing,” he murmurs. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin watches him, his blue-green eyes unreadable as he twines his tail around his hyung’s leg. “You smell like Y/N,” he muses. “Did you talk?”

“Yeah, I apologized like we practiced.” 

Jimin gives a little nod, seemingly satisfied. “You used what Tae told you to?”

Yoongi nods back and a comfortable silence falls between them. After a moment, he speaks again. “She wasn’t mad because I marked her,” he tells him. “She let me do it again. She let me do it right, this time.” “It smells like you did a lot more than that,” The younger man hums and wiggles closer, a quiet mrow of protest coming from Taehyung, who plasters himself back against him as quickly as he’s able. “We’re staying, then?” Jimin questions. 

Yoongi swallows, throat suddenly dry, before giving a single nod of assent. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, I wanna stay. For good this time, I think.” 

“There’s a lot of competition, Hyung.” 

Yoongi knows this- in fact, he’s painfully aware of it. They could all smell what they left unsaid in front of Y/N: The smaller of the dogs had scented you as had the bunny and it was driving them insane. He much preferred it when it was only he, Jimin and Taehyung’s scents he could smell wreathing you. He preferred when he didn’t have to watch the way the dog’s honeyed gaze followed after you, soft and longing in a way that made him want to rip his throat out. 

Taehyung stirs against Jimin’s back, a deep exhale rumbling in his chest as his tail twines with the other man’s. “They deserve a home...” he murmurs. He’d been awake the entire time then. “-But this one is ours.”

“We’ll make her want us,” Jimin says, both a reassurance and a declaration. “We’ll make her want us more than the others.”