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#suga mixtape
kenmittos · 1 year
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Shinunoga E-Wa.
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right-lose-plant · 4 days
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audiorkive · 2 years
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sailoryooons · 1 year
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Happy Agust, Hali 💕
Because Mixtape!Yoongi has been living RENT FREE in my mind for the last week, can I please request a fluffy drabble where Yoongi befriends and/or adopts a cat 👀 ? I’m pushing the cat dad agenda here… 😏
Thank youuuu 💕
YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT. Thank you for being so patient with me bby you literally were on the list of had to do because you know I'm obsessed with the idea and finally, we revisit our favorite Mixtape couple and Cat Dad Yoongi.
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❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader
❀ Summary: Yoongi can't stop thinking about the white cat he spotted alone and in the cold. Who are you to deny him?
❀ Word Count: 3,915
❀ Genre: Older brothers best friend, f2l, a lil' angst
❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 
❀ Warnings: Yoongi Cat Dad Agenda, long hair Yoongi yes this is a warning, literally fluff and an excuse to give Yoongi a cat
❀ Published: 3,915
❀ A/N: This is a part of the Mixtape series as an extra chapter. You can 100% read this as a standalone, though you might enjoy it a tiny bit more having read Mixtape!
❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Series Masterlist | Extra Chapter 2
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Bright sun beats down on your back, warming your chilled skin through the softness of your sweater. You pause lifting boxes for a moment, content to stand in the shaft of light and close your eyes, head tilted toward the source of your brief hiatus from the cold.
Wind skitters down the road and you shiver. Eyes fluttering open in time to see Yoongi coming out of the apartment lobby, rubbing his hands together for warmth. A beanie is pulled down low over his long, black hair – long enough that you’ve threatened him within an inch of his life if it cuts it – and a long-sleeve shirt that’s two sizes too big.
“What are you doing?” he asks, gesturing to where you stand motionless in the sun, box in hand. “You know you can’t photosynthesize, right?
You pout. “You don’t know that. Maybe I’m a plant.”
He hums as he passes you, hand absently touching your elbow as he does. Yoongi ducks into the trunk of the car, pulling out the last box. “Perhaps you’re right. Quiet, soaking up the sun, will die if not given attention.”
“Hey that last one isn’t true!”
The trunk snaps shut, Yoongi grinning at his little joke as he lifts the box. “It is a little.”
Maybe Yoongi has a point.
There was a time when you never dreamed of demanding attention from Min Yoongi. Most of your early life had been spent trying to stay out of his way until that fateful day in the piano room. After that, you co-existed on the edge of one another’s lives. His attention had been something you craved but never went out of your way to receive.
Thinking about your thirteen-year-old self writing about having a crush on Min Yoongi in her diary makes you smile. She had no idea one day everything would make sense. That you would come into synced orbits, and that you’d move in with him at the peak of his career, and a positive shift in yours.
Both of you adjust grips on your boxes and head toward the apartment lobby door to make your final carrying trip up to your new apartment. It’s deep in downtown near Yoongi’s new studio that he bought and opened himself to extend the branch of the label he works under, and it has the perfect large space for your new work at home office.
Best of all, it overlooks the entire city. At night, it looks like the stars have drifted from the heavens to float among the mortals, moving among the dreams and the lives of thousands.
Yoongi pulls up short before opening the door to the lobby, making a soft sound of surprise. You glance at him to see his gaze fixated near the northeast corner of the building where 77th North Street meets 4th Avenue.
At first, you see cars at a stop light. The winter-frosted glass of the coffee shop and dance studio across the street. The bikers bundled in puffer jackets, beanies pulled low over their ears.
Movement catches your eyes lower. You find the object of Yoongi’s attention- a small, white cat with its head cocked, blue eyes fixed on the pair of you.
“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, kitty.” It meows in response, making the side of your mouth twitch. “Cute.”
Yoongi looks up at the stretch of windows above your apartment building. “I wonder if it has an owner? I don’t see a collar. It’s kind of cold out here.”
“Unsure. Pretty cat, though.”
Yoongi hums, eyes drifting back to the cat. For a moment, you admire the way the cold turns Yoongi’s face pink. He flushes easily, but even more so during winter. He doesn’t notice your slow smile as you watch him and he watches the cat.
With a shrug of his shoulders and a quick shuffle of his box, Yoongi pulls the door open to the hotel lobby. “I’m sure it has an owner. I’ll let the lobby manager know there’s a cat outside, though.”
You smile at him as you pass. He doesn’t notice, eyes drifting back to the cat watching you one more time before letting the tinted, glass door shut. “Okay.” He makes his way to the counter as you move to the elevator. “Don’t take too long. I’m starving.”
Inside the new apartment is warm. It smells like the crisp, citrus candle flickering on the granite countertop. Boxes are stacked neatly in corresponding rooms, marked with your neat handwriting and Yoongi’s slanted scribble.
All of the furniture is already placed and put together. The movers had done most of the work the day before and Yoongi had spent most of the evening into the late night putting everything together, the whine of the drill backtracked by his curses and hisses when something didn’t mesh right.
Every part of the home – and it does already feel like home – is splashed with the watercolors of your shared life. The living room is muted neutrals, the pillows soft and worn from the nights of falling asleep on the couch and the throw blanket frayed at the edges from Yoongi’s sleepy feet stepping on the hem while wearing it like a cape around his old apartment.
There are three bedrooms, one of which now has a desk for you to work at on one side and the other with a massive slab of desk, shelving, and tangled wires for Yoongi’s little home studio. The master and the office both have large windows facing the city, letting in the bright winter light during the day and the glow of the city at night.
You check the writing on the box in your arms. Books is scribbled in Yoongi’s slanted writing, explaining why it’s so heavy. You shuffle to the guest bedroom where Yoongi has lined either side of the bed with tall bookshelves and deposit the box in front of the empty shelf.
Dusting your hands, you walk back to the kitchen, covered in a combination of folded cardboard, paper towel rolls, power tools, and wrapped glassware. You start unwrapping the glasses, sliding them in neat rows in the cabinet.
Yoongi doesn’t return right away. You lose yourself in the rhythm of organizing, crumbling the wrapping paper, and shoving it into the trash. When your stomach growls, you look up at the clock and realize that it’s been twenty minutes and Yoongi still hasn’t come upstairs.
You frown and move to your phone. Just as you swipe the screen to call, the front door opens and your boyfriend comes in. His nose and cheeks are frozen pink, and his hands are a little discolored from the cold outside and the grip he has on the box.
He sets it down by the door, too tired to carry it in as the door clicks shut behind him and he straightens, huffing a bit.
“Everything okay?” you ask, brows raised.
“Yeah.” He’s a touch out of breath. “The lobby manager said he doesn’t know anyone who has a missing cat and doesn’t have anyone having a white cat on file. But people bring in pets and don’t tell the apartment all the time so I went out to take a picture and post to that community page on our rent portal in case someone doesn’t know it’s missing.”
Yoongi flexes his cold fingers. You hold your hands out to him and he immediately responds, drifting to you like a magnet. His hands are ice cold when you take them in yours, rubbing them to create heat and friction.
Once Yoongi’s hands have a little more color and warmth, you kiss the back of his right hand briefly before drifting to the fridge. “What do you want for lunch?”
“Sushi?”
You hum in agreement, hands searching for the plastic box you had picked up earlier. Yoongi leans on the counter behind you as you pull out soy sauce and the spicy mayo, sitting it next to you.
“You think he’ll be okay?”
“Hmmm?”
“The cat,” Yoongi clarifies. You close the fridge and turn to face him. His arms are crossed over his chest, sleeves pulled down over his hands. His gaze is focused on the floor, lost in thought as he chews his lip lightly. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”
A smile creeps on your face as you soften at the edges. Yoongi looks up at you as you wrap your arms around his middle. He’s still a little cool from being outside again, but the warmth that the smell of sandalwood and his arms returning the hug chase away the cold.
“I’m sure he will be. We’ll keep an eye on it, yeah?”
You tuck yourself into Yoongi’s neck, closing your eyes. You feel him nod and hum in response. His hands play with the hem of your shirt and you sigh, melting into him. You slot perfectly against him, a puzzle piece finding its home after years of almosts and what ifs.
Yoongi’s stomach growls and you both laugh. You peel away from him and press a soft kiss to his mouth, sweet and pink. “Let’s eat.”
-
Something light washes across the darkness of your dreams. You sigh and squirm deeper into the pillow, willing to sink back into a comfortable sleep.
But the glow somewhere – a little beyond your sleep – is distracting. You hear tapping next to you and you grumble. The bed is cold, the windows cracked at Yoongi’s request. Eyes closed, you seek his warmth, hands following the soft dip in the bed next to you until your hands come into contact with bare skin.
“Ah,” Yoongi hisses. “Cold.”
His voice pulls you the rest of the way from your seep. Heavy eyes blink open, flinching at the bright, white light splitting the darkness. His phone is held near his face, casting him in an eerie glow with squinted eyes.
“What are you doing?” you croak, voice scratchy and deep. You close your eyes to hide from the light of the phone, but scoot closer to him anyway. Only Yoongi could sleep shirtless with the window cracked in a freezing apartment. “What time is it?”
“Three.”
“What, your emails couldn’t wait?”
“Oh I’m not emailing.” He lets you suck the warmth from his skin as you bury your face in his neck and angle it towards his pillow, finally muting the light. His heart thrums under your arm as you wrap yourself around him, squeezing. “I was checking to see if anyone claimed the cat yet.”
You pause, momentarily confused. Oh. The white cat. “Oh.”
“No one has yet.”
“Hmm, well I doubt anyone is going to at three in the morning, Yoons.”
He sighs. The phone light vanishes entirely and he reaches to set it on the nightstand, temporarily dislodging you. Yoongi settles in again, turning toward you slightly and wrapping his arms around you in return. You can’t help but smile as he sighs, warm breath hitting your brow.
“You’re probably right.”
“We can check on kitty in the morning.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel him nod. “Okay. Night, sweet girl.”
“Mmm. Night.”
-
An empty bed greets you when you wake up again early in the morning. Your muscles pull tight as you stretch, a strained sound escaping your lips as you look around the room for any sign of Yoongi. The light coming through the white slats in the blinds is dark grey and the clock on the nightstand shows that it’s a little past seven in the morning.
Slowly, you sit up, your body in a momentary state of grogginess. The master bathroom door is open with the light turned off, but you can see the light from the living room and kitchen area on underneath the bathroom door.
Peeling off the blankets, you hurry across the room to shut the window, rubbing your hands together and going in search of Yoongi.
Coffee wafts from the kitchen. There’s only a single lamp in the living room on paired with the light over the stove, casting the apartment in shadows and gentle light. Yoongi is curled on the couch, feet tucked under him and his favorite blanket wrapped around him as he looks at his phone.
For a moment, you stop and stare at him. His hair is messy and sticking up in places. It’s long enough that it reaches his shoulders these days, flipping outward when he air dries it or from being tucked underneath a beanie. His face is puffy with sleep, the hand not holding his phone wrapped around a still-steaming cup of coffee.
“Hi,” you murmur, drawing his attention from his phone. He smiles at you, full gums on display and eyes crinkling. Your heart flips – it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together now. Being the object of Yoongi’s affection still knocks the wind out of you after wanting it for so long. “It’s early.”
He hums but clicks the phone off and unfolds the blanket, holding it open like a bat wing for you to slot yourself into. You hurry over, snuggling into his side eagerly. He’s still shirtless, skin like a natural heater as you press against him. He wraps the wing around you, keeping the heat in as you settle.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, just naturally woke up. Noticed you were gone though so I came looking.”
“Hmm. Couldn’t sleep.”
You crane your neck to look at him.
Yoongi’s dark eyes are fixated on the window. They’re frosty with mist, the cool air outside at war with the hotter air of the apartment. His lips are a little chapped like he’s been biting them all morning and his eyes are unfocused, the kind of look when he’s thinking about new music or trying to remember something.
A small crease forms on his brow. You tentatively lift a hand, slipping it through the hole in your blanket wrap to brush the tips of your fingers along the shape of his jaw. Long lashes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of skin against skin.
“What’s wrong?” you ask the question so softly you think he doesn’t hear you. Your hand slips to the hair framing his face, brushing the dark strands back. “Yoons?”
“I’m worried about the cat.”
Yoongi’s words come out like an admission of guilt. His mouth pouts slightly and he chews on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t open his eyes, but the dip of his brows increases as his expression melts into a frown.
“You have to give people time.”
“I’m just worried. It’s cold.”
You examine him. Even the calming strokes of your hand in his hair don’t chase away the frown. You remember all of the times that your touch could soothe him. You remember the way you first ran your hands through his hair like this, long ago at the Park cabin on a vacation you’ll never forget.
“What do you want to do, baby?” He opens his eyes, a question in them. You smile. “You obviously want to do something. What is it?”
He chews on his lip and you prod his mouth. He’s a little bashful as he lets the abused flesh go. “I may have… ordered some things.”
“Oh?”
“You know, to like… keep it here while we wait for an owner to come forward.”
“Uh-huh. What things?”
“Food. Bowls. Some toys.”
You grin. Your soft, sweet boyfriend can’t help himself. He’s the same way with people – buying things he sees people needing. Wordlessly putting gluten-free bread in the pantry for Jimin (and guarding when Taehyung tries to steal it). Buying a new wireless headset for Ren so she can join Jungkook when he streams. Sending Seokjin a stack of recipes Yoongi’s family cook has finally agreed to divulge.
Yoongi speaks in a silent language of love, and it makes you lean forward to press a sold kiss to his jaw before pulling away to get up.
“Where are you going?” He’s wide-eyed and soft when he looks up at you as you stand and stretch.
“Get dressed. Let’s go get your cat.”
-
It takes twenty minutes in the blistering morning cold, a couple of curses and hopeless looks from Yoongi, and constant encouragement from you before you find the cat in the parking garage under someone’s tire.
Yoongi immediately gets on his knees, staining his sweatpants as he tucks his head under the wheel well, looking up and speaking softly to the cat in question. You watch, shivering in the shade and arms crossed over your chest for another ten minutes before Yoongi slips his hands upward, only retreating when he has a dirty, white-coated cat with blue eyes in his hands.
You offer Yoongi the blanket that you’re clutching – Yoongi’s favorite, as he insisted. The cat is latched onto Yoongi’s shirt, your lips twitching in a soft smile. Yoongi whispers to the feline, head ducked down as you approach.
The cat turns its attention to you, eyes going narrow as it hisses. You hesitate when you lift the blanket, looking at the curve claws that snag in Yoongi’s shirt and the rigid line of hair running up its spine. Yoongi hushes the creature and nods at you.
Carefully, under the suspicious gaze of the cat, you wrap it in a blanket, sliding the material under Yoongi’s grip until he has a bundle, a white little face peering back at him from a checkered blanket. It’s cute, pulling lightly at your heartstrings.
Inside your apartment, Yoongi goes straight to the couch, the bundle in his arms as he murmurs to the cat in question. You watch wordlessly from the kitchen, a smile still on your face as he tucks the cat into his lap, his long hair hiding his face as he carefully unwraps the blanket.
The cat does not move from his lap. Instead, it curls up, blinking its eyes at Yoongi. You hear him laugh, just a soft breath of sound as he scratches between its dirty ears.
“We’ll just keep you until your owners realize your missing,” Yoongi says as you fill a bowl of water. “I think you need a little bit of a bath, hmm?”
You place the bowl of water near the couch, straightening to see a pair of blue eyes trained on you. You offer the cat a nervous smile. “Pretty.”
“Do you want to pet him?”
“How do you know it’s a him?”
Yoongi shrugs. “I might be wrong.”
Tentatively you sit down and hold out a hand. The cat stares at you warily before taking a few suspect sniffs. When it decides you’re acceptable, it rubs its shin on your fingers tentatively, closing its eyes.
“Just until the owners find it?” you ask cryptically.
“Yeah.”
Yoongi’s eyes never stray from the feline.
-
Week one you put up ‘cat found posters.’
There is a bed and a handful of toys in the living room. The white cat is clean after a yowling, hissing and screaming bathtub experience. You walk through the living room, peering at where Yoongi sleeps on the couch. His hair covers his face, lips parted lightly.
And at the foot of the couch is the cat, curled into a donut with its head resting on top of Yoongi’s foot.
-
Week two you trip over a cat toy and scowl. Sensing your irritation, said cat appears around the corner, winding between your legs and rubbing himself on your calves. You sigh, the irritation bleeding out of you as you bend down and offer a hand. He nuzzles you, purring briefly before rushing off.
You hear Yoongi greet the cat in the office and shake your head, though you smile a little bit.
-
“Can we take Sugar to the vet? I want to make sure he’s a he and that he’s got… whatever shots cats need.” You look up, pausing with a mouthful of toast. Yoongi is hovering near the kitchen, looking over at the cat that is kneading its bed. “I just want to make sure we keep him healthy?”
“Sure-“ You cock your head. “Did you just call the cat Sugar?” Yoongi blushes. You swallow the toast and cough a little, having swallowed too quickly. Yoongi is fast to grab you a glass of water which you take with a grateful glance. “You named him?”
“He looks like a jar of sugar.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And it felt weird to keep saying ‘it’ and ‘the cat’ and not having a name.”
“Right.”
“And he’s very sweet.”
“This is true.”
Yoongi’s eyes are soft and round when he looks at you. Your heart melts a little, seeing that gentle flicker in his eyes. You don’t put a name to that look, that little gleam that you know it’s there. You don’t want to jinx it, to give it a name to have it taken away.
Instead, you take another gulp of water. “Let’s make an appointment.”
-
Week four, no one has claimed Sugar, but Sugar has claimed more space and more toys in your home. A new bag of cat food is on the counter along with a jar of catnip. There is now a basket for Sugar to contain his toys. And a pretty black collar with a little jar and a name.
And a doting Yoongi who walks across the living room with his phone tucked into his shoulder on a business call, carrying the growing-plump feline with him in his arms. He heads towards you, listening to the other voice on the line. He gestures to the fridge, hands full of Sugar.
You push off the counter pulling open the fridge and removing the bottle of Gatorade your boyfriend nods at. You crack the top and a grin spreads across his face. The smile grows when you pull a straw out of the drawer, plop it in and wedge the drink into one of Yoongi’s hands.
Sugar hisses at the disturbance, rolling his head to look at you defiantly.
Yoongi tuts at the cat. “Don’t hiss at mommy.”
Both yours and Yoongi’s attention snaps to one another. Your stomach flips at the term of endearment. It’s just a cat, but Yoongi’s slip – the assignment of a role in the creature’s life, an implication that… he wants to keep the cat too is there.
“Sorry,” Yoongi says absently. He looks at you when he says it, but addresses the person on the phone. “The cat was hissing at my girlfriend.”
There’s laughter on the other line. You open your hands and Yoongi nods, passing Sugar to you. Sugar likes Yoongi more, but he doesn’t mind you either. He rubs his head into the crook of your elbow as Yoongi starts talking about a soundboard that you know nothing about.
“Let daddy work,” you tell Sugar, giving Yoongi a devious grin. He pauses, midsentence, phone pressed to his ears, eyes dark. “How about we watch Sailor Moon, Sugar?”
-
Week five the ‘cat found’ posters come down.
“Yeah, his name is Sugar,” you tell Jungkook on the phone, crumbling the sheets of paper. Jungkook squeals on the other side of the line. “Do you guys want to come up and see him next weekend?”
-
Week thirty-three, Sugar sleeps between you and Yoongi on the couch, purring lightly as you drift to sleep, head propped on Yoongi’s shoulder as the credits to Naruto roll.
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white-poppie · 1 year
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⛓ "Born in a ditch but rise up a 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫"
“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘥.” “𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙤𝙙.”
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kdreamsound · 1 year
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seoul-bros · 1 year
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Agust -D D-Day - Concept Photos - Being
The Glitch film seems to confirm that this is going to be the last outing for Agust D.
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Post Date: 16/04/2023 Updated: 19/04/2023
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averwonders · 2 years
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I'll never be over the raw emotions depicted by Yoongi in his verse in Spring Day and then in Dear My Friend about the very same person, the very same old friend, about that broken "yes I loved you but now we don't even know each other but I still remember the times we had together" friendship.
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В Корее уже несколько часов как 15 августа 🔥🔥🔥
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sugaisle · 2 years
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Manifesting..
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atxn8 · 2 years
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6 years today when it was released Yoongi's first mixtape. A masterpiece. Agust D was born.
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purple-belle · 2 years
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