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𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝔹𝕦𝕕𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕤𝕥
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A/N: I was in a bad place mentally and had to prove to myself that I could follow through and finish SOMETHING. So I'm shamelessly posting Lovesick Agent Yoongi with just a smidge of GOT7 thnx.
(Agent! Yoongi x Reader) (Ft. Agent! BamBam for a split second)
Summary: (Angst and Slight Fluff) Yoongi is given a new job, as an expert in stealth and assassination, he has seen and done many things in the field. Although, he knows every dog has its days. It seems he's met his match in more ways than one.
(TW: Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of weapons, Mentions of Death, Mentions of killing and Assassination, Graphic descriptions of death.)
He was simple, he always was.
He moved his fingers over the pistol, gliding them over the knicks and scrapes in the metal. He thumbed the edge of the holster it was snuggled into, thinking of how many skirmishes he has been in with his trusty, MK23.
He noted how rare it was for him to just sit and reflect like this; it was a strange, yet, welcome feeling. His instincts told him that there wouldn’t be too many more days spent with it in his hands, he just had a feeling about it.
He breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of the earth around his body. As he had always done, he removed the last of the dirt from the deep pit he had dug. Carefully making sure to dig vertically so as to not draw attention to the plot of earth he had just upturned.
He looked up above him, wiping the beads of sweat from above his eyebrows as he did so. The circle of trees around him rustled in the wind, the sound of the leaves scraping across the forest floor comforted him in a way he couldn’t quite describe. He watched on, the stars shining above him unbothered by useless mortal affairs, twinkling in unison.
Somehow, they reminded him of the fairy lights you had hung up on his patio a few weeks ago. He remembers pitching a fit about them, grumbling about them being a waste of electricity. Though, secretly, he enjoyed the personal touches you added to his space, it made him feel alive.
You, made him feel alive.
He pulled the letter from his jacket pocket, the one that had been dropped in the mail for him a few weeks ago by his agency. It was crumpled and worn; A small wallet-sized picture of a woman was paper clipped onto the outside of it. Its condition was pristine in comparison to the paper.
He still remembered opening it for the first time.
He had just woken up to the sound of his text messages going off, a lone number ‘7’ in the message bubble let him know that his next assignment had been delivered to him. He pulled himself from his sleep-filled stupor, his body aching from his previous assignment.
He pulled himself back to reality and unraveled the paper. Trying his best to stay focused on the task at hand, your photo had fallen into the soft earth beneath his feet. He did not move to pick it up, instead, he stared at the words on the paper. Despite his best efforts, the contents took him back to that first day.
He had placed his long, black hair into a messy bun atop his head that morning, thinking nothing of it as he put his mug into the coffee dispenser. Ripping open the package he had retrieved from his mailbox, he was greeted with a cover letter of sorts it read:
Good Morning AGENT 7, HYBE HQ has asked for your full cooperation on a new project.
YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED A NEW TASK, IF YOU ACCEPT YOU ARE REQUIRED TO COMPLETE THIS TASK IN 1 MONTH’S TIME, FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN A BURN NOTICE.
By opening this seal and reading beyond this point, HYBE HQ will take it as your acceptance of this operation, and MIN YOONGI A.K.A “AGENT 7” will be placed under constant surveillance for the next month, and must report back to HQ weekly.
FAILURE TO REPORT BACK TO HQ WEEKLY WILL FOREFIT YOUR AGREEMENT AND CONSTITUTE A ROGUE STATUS, THIS WILL RESULT IN AN IMMEDIATE BURN NOTICE
Yoongi sighed, “Enough with the fucking dramatics.” He groaned in annoyance.
Breaking open the seal of the black manila envelope, he pulled a stack of papers free. His groggy form took in the envelope's contents; His eyes clocked the small, wallet-sized, photo paper clipped to the front of it. His interest was immediately peaked, you were breathtakingly beautiful. In his hands was page after page filled to the brim with crucial life details, he held your death warrant.
TARGET: Y/N, Y/L/N
KNOWN ALIAS(ES): MIDNIGHT OR BLUE
THIS TARGET IS CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS
THREAT LEVEL : 0
(LOW NUMBERS INDICATE INCREASED DIFFICULTY TO AGENTS WHEN RANKED ON A 1-10 SCALE)
PLEASE EXHIBIT EXTREME CAUTION WHEN IN CLOSE PROXIMITY.
SKILL SET: A comprehensive list of known skills is included below. However, It is important to note that:
HYBE does not possess full knowledge of MIDNIGHT's capabilities.
MIDNIGHT is known to fight with an unregistered form of combat. Y/N is speculated to have created a martial arts technique unique to their fighting style.
Through careful analysis, HYBE experts have concluded that it contains mixed forms of martial arts that MIDNIGHT is speculated to have mastered.
MIDNIGHT IS LETHAL IN HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT
MIDNIGHT is said to have ample knowledge of poisons and medicinal remedies. MIDNIGHT often uses this knowledge in close combat against enemies; They have been known to create lethal combinations of incurable and fast-acting poisons to dip their bullets and knives into.
MIDNIGHT has extensive knowledge of various weapons and their uses. They possess the ability to dismantle and use their opponent's weapons against them mid-combat.
TARGET HAS BEEN KNOWN TO ATTACK WITH A PERSONALIZED MK23 PISTOL DECORATED WITH A DARK BLUE COLOR AND HAND-PAINTED STARS.
Avoid direct contact with the Target when possible, Stealth is essential.
ABOVE ALL ELSE
Agent MIDNIGHT is a threat that MUST BE ELIMINATED.
“I love the kind of woman that will actually just kill me.” He mumbled softly, into his favorite mug. A small smirk spread over his face as he took a sip of the black coffee.
“A burn notice, huh?” He thought to himself, he wondered just how detrimental your death was to his agency for them to assign him to you.
They had not only called one of the top seven agents, but they had also risked threatening his life with a Burn Notice. Something they rarely resorted to unless an agent had gone rogue or broken code. He wondered if they had the other top six agents on standby just in case he failed. He wondered if they would be the ones to carry out the hit on him, he had hoped so. This assignment was turning into an interesting one rather quickly.
He watched you for days, waiting for the most organic moment to approach. It just so happened, you had given him an opening at a concert. He was dressed casually, an oversized black shirt and ripped blue jeans adorned his slender body.
He had paired his attire with his favorite pair of black Converse and silver jewelry. A small silver chain hung around his neck, with silver rings adorning each hand. He made sure to have his tattoo sleeves on full display, intricate artwork trailed up his arms, hiding the harsh secrets of his trade beneath them.
Your file described men with an “Alternative” style as your type and he wanted to stand out in all the ways that would have mattered to you; He still remembers the moment you locked eyes from across the dingy little dive bar.
He’d be lying if he said his heart hadn't skipped a few beats.
There you stood beneath the shitty lighting, a drink in one hand and your middle finger sticking out at the man in front of you. You stuck out your tongue at him, the sliver piercing on it glinting in the light. He was more than interested, the dude in front of you stomped away in anger. He knew his chance was now or never.
He wished that he had told himself to stop before you had gotten a chance to disrupt his life.
You came into his life like a whirlwind, at first it was strictly business. He sweet-talked you, making you listen to sweet nothings as he spoke about fake adventures and very real feelings.
You spoke to him of your “Adventures” as well. When he would ask questions to deepen his understanding of your psyche, you would grow tense. Over and over again, he received the same responses that were delivered with a practiced ease.
You'd tell him that you had lived a million different lives, but you were sure this one had brought you to him for a reason. Each time you said that, you’d offer him a stunning smile that never quite reached your eyes. If he had been a “normal man”, he wasn't sure if he would have caught it.
Still, he thinks of the night it all changed for him.
You had just gotten home from another rave, one that you had forced him to accompany you to. He had been annoyed at first but figured that it would help give him an opening to kill you without having to fight you. He had gone with a hopeful mind, his knives concealed in a holster strapped around his ankle. He barely remembers the night, a drug-fueled haze clouds his vision when he tries.
You had just taken something, and he watched as you placed another small pill on your tongue. Pulling it back into your mouth and you smiled, your face filled with mirth…and something else he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It was a split second of vulnerability, then your carefully crafted mask was back up.
You reached out and pulled him in by the lapels of his leather jacket. He stumbled forward, his chest meeting yours halfway, and before he could protest, you had locked your lips with his. Your tongues clashed as the beat of the music pulsed in the background, the cold metal of your piercing against his tongue made him shiver.
You made sure to make him swallow whatever you had taken, and when you pulled away, your faces were flushed. You were both out of breath, and the tension was thick between you. There were hundreds of people around you, though, it felt as if you were the only two there.
He felt you shift under his intense gaze. In a brief moment of clarity, it dawned on him...you had planned this from the start.
You had picked the perfect place to test your theory, there was no way for him to throw up the unknown drug. The Rave was held in an abandoned warehouse with hundreds of other people, and he couldn’t risk leaving your side and losing the opportunity to strike. He also couldn't risk proving your suspicions of him correct.
The way you effortlessly played mind games served as a reminder of how dangerous you were. He couldn't afford to be inebriated around you.
The effect was almost immediate, things were amplified on this particular drug. He could feel the beat pulsing through his body. He watched the people around him become blurred, sweaty bodies danced against each other, and he could feel the sweat against his skin.
It was too much, too overwhelming.
He reached his hand out for yours, searching for some kind of familiarity, in hopes that it would ground him. The feeling of vulnerability made his heart race and processing this emotion was far beyond his capabilities. He was fighting to stay sane among the sea of people.
He felt weightless as he moved towards you. Somehow amid the drug taking effect and his subsequent disorientation, You had maneuvered your way to another part of the building. He stumbled towards your body, reaching for your hand and missing you by mere seconds.
He blinked and you slipped away from him in the crowd.
He tried to remain calm, but he couldn’t seem to get ahold of himself. Time seemed to stall, there he stood in the middle of hundreds of strangers. His body was trembling against his better judgment.
He had to find you and get out, quickly, but you were gone. He had failed his mission and The Burn notice would be issued for him after he told the director of his Failure to execute MIDNIGHT. If the Top Six didn’t kill him first, he was sure that he was going to die of a panic attack right there.
It was at that moment that he felt the gentle touch of a warm palm on his shoulder. He flipped around quickly, grabbing the hand that landed on him with an iron grip. He pulled the owner of the palm in close and there you stood, a look of confusion on your face.
“Are you okay?” You asked, a look of mild concern lacing your delicate features.
“No, please don’t do that. Don’t give me that look.” He begged internally. He doesn’t remember how long he stood there with your wrist in his hand, taking in each detail of your face. He only remembers pulling you, his savior, into a tight embrace. His racing heart slowly calmed itself, and he felt his shoulders sag in relief.
“You came back.” He whispered.
“Of course I did, I never left.” You mumbled back.
He doesn't remember much from that night, like where his Knives had gone or who bought whom tacos later that night, but he remembers the passionate love affair that followed.
He thought of those long nights and early mornings with you.
The lovemaking and the long-winded, 3 am talks, with no real point other than to hear each other speak. Those moments had made him giddy, butterflies would rise in his stomach at the thought of you. Something he had never had happen before. He was learning a lot about you, things that had not been mentioned in the papers he was given.
You told him personal things, knowledge that seemed detrimental to who you were as a person. You told him about how your favorite pass time was to chart the stars and map constellations. How, when you were a kid, the only way to find your father’s secluded home was by using the Andromeda Constellation, which was only visible an hour before dawn.
How you only felt comfortable moving and living by the moonlight, because in your words, “the stars raised you.” He even loved hearing useless facts, like how your favorite shirt was a thrift find that read “BUSH DID 9/11.” In bold black lettering.
He remembers you caressing his tattoos, touching the raised skin with a tenderness he had long forgotten. He had gotten them years ago to cover the countless visible scars he had gotten from his extreme training and harsh missions. It was easier to try and forget them when there was nice art on his body, he could pretend to be somewhat normal.
You kissed each scar littering his arms, complimenting them with a fervor he wasn’t sure he deserved. Your delicate touch and sweet words made him feel like a person again. A talent he was sure only you possessed and like the simple man he was, he had fallen deeply in love.
It was almost as if you had seen right through his shitty little charade all along. He wasn’t “Agent 7” around you; He was, and always had been, Min Yoongi.
You had brought color into his dull and monotonous routine. A routine he hadn't even realized he was trapped in until you had come rushing in. It was as if he blinked and suddenly, weeks had gone by. The Month was drawing to a close, like a moth to a flame, he hadn't even realized when he had started to seek out your warm presence.
It wasn’t until his assignment director slapped him with a dose of reality.
“Contact with the Target, codename MIDNIGHT has been established. How will you proceed Agent 7?” The cold monotone voice had droned on. He had heard that voice many a time, though, something about it unsettled him this time.
Yoongi stared at the screen listlessly, the silence deafening as the harrowing realization dawned on him. He had forgotten his mission, he had forgotten that you were the enemy. How could a fool like him allow that to happen?
“Agent 7, How will you proceed moving forward?” The director asked again, her flat tone slightly aggravated and impatient this time.
Yoongi snapped his head up, making eye contact with the director. “Accordingly.” He grumbled before abruptly ending the video call.
You were incapable of love, he could see how detached you were from him, from your reality. Though, he had hoped the 4 short weeks had spent with you was enough to change your mind. He couldn't bring himself to harm the only woman he would ever love.
He laughed to himself, he liked to think that you had left him hints about how you truly felt. He’d like to believe that some part of you had tried to leave him room to judge who you were. He still feels as though he had become a fool. A simple little fool blinded by his love for you, that much was clear from the way he allowed you to slip past his defenses so easily…so quickly.
He loved You; He needed You…Not the other way around.
Silently, he hoped that what little courage he had to say it to you would manifest itself tonight.
He shook his head, removing those thoughts from his brain. Pulling his phone out of his back pocket, he checked the time.
“11:55 p.m., July 31st.” He mumbled. Though there was no real sense of urgency in his voice, death loomed over him, like a mother watching her baby in its cradle. He had known it was time, he and death were old friends at this point.
“They’ll be coming for me soon.” He thought to himself. Digging his hands into the soft earth around him, he gathered his strength to hoist himself up onto the surface. Right before he launched himself up, he saw a hand reach itself into the deep pit, the mysterious hand was outstretched towards him.
He jumped back, no one should have known where he was, it was a secluded forest area owned by HYBE, and no one could know…unless..they were a field Agent.
He had braced himself for impact, “A burn notice this early?” He thought to himself, he was confused since they usually went into effect 30 minutes after being issued. He quickly fumbled for his gun. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight, not yet. He prepared for the worst until he heard your soft timbre. The sound of your voice graced his ears and a flood of goosebumps erupted over his entire body.
“Y/n.” He said softly, his shoulders sagging in relief, though the alarm bells that had set in still lingered.
“Yoongi, pass me the shovel, it’ll be easier to climb out if you grab onto it and I pull you up.” You whispered. Wriggling your fingers at him, your face peeked over the edge of the hole.
He wanted to ask you a million questions, but he couldn’t seem to find the words when he needed them. He knew it was an awful idea to pass you the shovel. Every part of his instincts shouted at him to listen, but he obliges anyway, unable to express his reservations about your plan. He launched it up, your hand gripping onto it and pulling it over the ledge.
You backed away from the ledge and he feels a familiar shift in the air. He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat, tamping down the unpleasant feelings beginning to surface. He knew what came next, though he had vehemently hoped that it wasn’t the case.
You were the one he wanted to love, he hoped you would give him the chance to say that, but, from the looks of it, he didn’t believe that lady luck was on his side today.
The sound of a gun clicking filled the air.
His vision of the moon and stars was obscured by the barrel of a suppressor. The dark blue gun attached to it stood out even in the darkness and the hand-painted stars glinted in the moonlight. He sighed, making eye contact with you. There was no hesitation, no fear in his eyes as he watched your movements.
“You’re so smart Min, and it makes me fucking sick.” You said, your voice cold and calculated. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?-” you whispered. Yoongi registered the slight tremble in your hand, “Who I was and what I was after…”
He smiled one of those bright, gummy, smiles that made your heart skip a beat every time. You swallowed hard. “Agent Midnight, let's not play stupid.” He said, his deep timbre ringing out into the night air.
Goosebumps erupted all over your body. His face showed no signs of distress, just a tinge of sadness and something akin to disappointment. The knowledge that you put that emotion on his face was causing a reaction of sorts in your mind.
It pissed you off to no end that he was the sole cause of your wavering emotions. There wasn’t a moment you could remember feeling like this. You don't remember feeling at all really; You hadn’t been given the chance to understand what love was…You weren’t capable of it, that's what made you such a wonderful field agent.
“Agent 7, it's wonderful to finally meet you. I’m Agent 0.” You said, voice slightly trembling as you revealed your true identity.
Yoongi's mask of indifference broke as the realization that his mission was doomed from the start dawned on him.
“The ever-elusive rogue, Agent 0, huh?” He chuckled. “Humbled, truly.” He said, his tone devoid of all emotion as he realized just how powerful of an enemy you were.
You were a legend of sorts at HYBE HQ. When “the numbers” were initially recruited, There were 10 total. They were all ranging from 0-10 based on their skill set. The lower the number, the higher the rank in the agency. He knows this because he had been recruited as one. Numbers rarely met each other in the field unless it was needed.
Of course, you had been seen as an all-star of sorts. Your knowledge was endless; Rumors of you being the "Angel of Death" had circulated during your stay at HYBE. No one knew what you looked like, only that you worked the most dangerous missions, and if you were assigned to a group mission, success rates skyrocketed.
You were an important and valuable asset…a dangerous and volatile one to possess for any agency.
It's said that after one particularly harsh mission, your psyche broke. After your stint in Budapest on a solo mission, you had come back changed. During your few weeks there, they lost contact with you, and with no way of finding out what happened to you, they had branded your mission compromised, and you were given the title MIA.
They sent search parties in an attempt to recover your remains. However, every party they sent returned gravely injured, If they returned at all.
HYBE was at a loss. During this time, they had done their best to cover up the largest fuck-up they had ever had. Any records of your existence were wiped from their systems. The few who remembered you were forced to sign NDAs and anyone who did not cooperate with HYBE was branded a rogue and executed on sight.
Eventually, they stopped sending search parties and assigned the other “numbers” to the mission instead. These were people you had trained with at some point or another, and they had the futile hope that maybe you would be receptive to their mind games. They started with 10, the least valuable asset HYBE had in their top agents, still deadly and capable.
His body was recovered only hours after entering Budapest, he was beheaded and burned to a crisp, and nothing but his charred remains were found. The only thing left to identify him was a single tooth lodged into the back of his throat from blunt force trauma.
His skull was fractured from what they were certain was a kick to the face, and the tooth was left on purpose; It was a warning. Despite this, they sent 2 more agents. 9 stood no chance, his remains were never recovered, and it's still unknown what happened to him. 8… well, you eventually did come back with her.
You had crashed into the front of the agency with your Black 1974 Chevelle SS, it's also said that the car was your one and only prized possession. You had mowed down almost everyone in your path, leaving a wake of blood and destruction from driving it through the front gates.
Everyone who lived to see it said you walked out of the wreckage gracefully; your body unscathed. In tow, you had the newly deceased Agent 8, her body was almost unrecognizable.
You had dragged her twisted and mangled frame through the halls of HYBE. Her body flailing about behind you like a child holding her ragdoll. You paraded her around like a grotesque trophy, to serve as a grim reminder of who you were and what you were capable of. Those who didn’t know of you or your infamy were running around to find weapons to retaliate. Those who knew better were hiding, praying for a swift death.
It's said that you dragged her all the way up to the Head Office and kicked open the door. You launched her body in, throwing it onto the desk of HYBE’s CEO before slamming what remained of the door shut.
It's still unknown what happened behind that door to this day, but minutes later you came barreling out, exchanging gunshots with the best of the best throughout the corridors of HQ.
Everyone in that room was maimed, everyone except for you. Those who had worked closely with you since your initial recruitment said that you were different... almost deranged. Any traces of humanity left were gone and your once aloof and easygoing demeanor had simply, vanished. No one in that room knew where you had been, what you had seen, or endured.
As quickly as the assault on HQ had begun, it ended, and You had disappeared once more without a trace. Yoongi had been next to go up against you, though he had never actually met you in person. The day he was to be briefed about his mission, you had attacked. 7 Agents remained, and HYBE refused to take any more casualties.
“Y/N, you’re the one killing agents right?” You were quiet, your eyes zeroed in on his. He then heard another rustle in the distance. “You’re being watched, aren’t you?” He mouthed. Your eyes shifted in response. You stood there, the silence tense and filled with unsaid words, you were waiting for midnight, you were mere seconds away from finishing your mission.
“Midnight, finish the job so I can report back to HQ.” A man's voice sounded from the trees.
“It’s 11:59, hold your fucking horses BamBam, I have a reputation to uphold.” You snap back, your voice was even and calm.
“Right, right, you only kill at midnight." He said, nodding his head. "Well, IT'S FUCKING MIDNIGHT, MIDNIGHT.” He whisper shouted. "And I don't feel like being caught in enemy territory over your reputation." You flicked him off, never turning around to gauge his reaction.
You looked away from where yoongi stood, his pleading gaze was hurting your heart. Without any more hesitation, you pulled the trigger. A small “fwip” noise filled the air as you did so.
A burning pain shot through Yoongi’s body, it was unlike anything he had ever felt before, it was excruciating. It was then, that he remembered the papers he was given. You dipped all your bullets in poison, his death would be quick but agonizing. He bit his tongue, not wanting to show weakness in his last moments. He never moved to reach for his gun, he would allow you to hurt him, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you.
He slumped down in the hole, his vision was going blurry, and he could feel his heart rate slowing. His gaze never wavered, making sure to keep you in his sight. He watched as your figure doubled and he mouthed out three of the last words he would ever say before he allowed death’s embrace to swallow him whole.
“I love you.” He choked out.
He watched your blurry visage mouth out five distinct words. “I love you too, yoongi.” and just like that his world faded to black, with a sad smile spread across his face.
“It's done.” You grumbled, looking away from the hole.
It made you visibly ill to watch him writhe in agony, something that was never an issue before; You would have nightmares about this for sure. You pulled a small barely visible paper from your pocket and tossed it into the hole, and it landed with a small thud on his chest.
“Good Job Midnight lets's report back to HQ and get you that promotion.” with that, you left the only man you would ever love behind, his body cramped into a grave he had dug himself.
Shortly after, a group of men found his body. Shaking their heads at their fallen comrade.
“Midnight took another one,” Agent 1 mumbled, he was used to cleaning up after Agent 0 by now, he just didn’t expect Agent 7 to fall so easily. After checking the body for a pulse he confirmed Agent 7’s death. He let out a ‘tsk’ noise, the frustration setting in since he had kind of looked forward to the thrill of hunting Agent 7. “Come on, let's report to HQ about his failure and collect the Burn Notice reward.” They all moved quickly, racing to get back to HYBE to collect the reward.
An hour later, Yoongi’s body shifted. He woke up with a strangled gasp. Groaning as he touched his body with a panicked fervor. It felt like a massive bus had landed on top of him, and his chest was burning from how quickly his heart was pumping. The paper on his chest was the first thing he grasped as his confusion set in, he should be dead. He felt you kill him, he. should. be. dead.
He fumbled with the small folded note, yanking it open in hopes it would have answers. Your distinct handwriting was on it, it read as follows:
“I hope you can forgive me for hurting you. I shot you at a non-vital point with a bullet coated in a poison I designed myself, I named it “Lover’s Paradise.” It's meant to paralyze you for several hours and place you in a sleep so deep that your heart rate is essentially undetectable. Anyone who sees you would classify your body as deceased.
Min yoongi, you’ve been dramatic since I met you. I have tried countless times to kill you since we met. I knew who had sent you and why. I knew who you were from the moment we met at the Dive bar. Still, I couldn't bring myself to hurt you. (despite my best efforts) Instead, I tried to make myself hard to love, I tried to keep you at arm's length. Though, somehow, you broke through my defenses. Your effortless way of loving me despite my flaws is what made me love you. I never lied to you, I showed you parts of me I thought had been killed and buried long ago. So, If you know what’s good for you, you won’t accept my invitation.
You make me believe in love Min Yoongi, I'd like to explore that part of myself with you, in hopes that it won't backfire. I’ll wait for you in Budapest, I’m leaving a nondescript code I hope you’ll be smart enough to decipher on your own. I’ll wait as long as it takes, If you decline, hope you’ll allow me to love you freely in our next life together.
Yours and yours only, Y/N Y/L/N
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