Chapter 1
The mint haired man squinted an eye against the curl of smoke, wafting up from the cigarette clamped between his lips. The light buzz of the tattoo gun in his grip was almost soothing as he inked over the intricate sketch sprawled across the expanse of flesh beneath him. Irritation flickered in his eyes as said flesh moved under his open palm in order to reach up and snatch the cig from his lips. A thin layer of skin peeled away along with it, and he winced, sucking his bottom lip to soothe the sting.
"Those things will kill you, Yoongs." The raspy, feminine voice scolded. She reached over and ground the butt out in the ashtray he had perched atop a battered stool.
"Yah! Y/N, quit squirming or you'll fuck up my design. You wanna tatt that looks like a kindergartener scribbled on you?" He shot back.
"I thought you quit." She plopped back into position with an amused huff, nonplussed by his attitude.
Yoongi sucked his teeth in response. He checked his design to ensure her movement hadn't screwed it up. Satisfied that not a single line was out of place, he flicked his gun on and once more set to work.
"Seriously, Yoongs, that shit's no good for you."
"I cut back," he mumbled.
"Good. Cuz I still need you around." Y/N twisted her head around to peer up at him, a mischievous smirk on her face. "What would I do without my Yoongles? "She reached up and pinched his cheek.
"Hajima! Stop moving, you brat." He pulled away from her touch with a frown. "And don't call me that."
Yoongi bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to mask his growing smile as she giggled. It was always like this between them. Her light-hearted teasing and his abrasive responses. They both knew it was all an act on his part, though. Yoongi was an absolute badass. Cool, calm, and collected, no matter the situation. Always equipped with a sharp tongue and smart-ass remark. His impassive features and monotone often masked his watchful eyes and quick wit.
But for her? He was a sucker for her dimpled smile. Weak for her girlish giggles. A total softie for her quirky ways and sometimes bratty attitude. Y/N had him wrapped around her little finger. And she knew it.
Luckily for him, she never used it against him. Oh, she'd push his buttons and tease him relentlessly simply because she knew she could get away with it. But she never took advantage of it. She never took their friendship for granted. For Y/N, Yoongi was her savior. A fact that she expressed gratitude for daily. By cooking him meals when he worked late, washing his laundry when he let too much pile up, tidying up the shop on the weekends; whatever she could do to make his life even the tiniest bit easier. She owed him her life, after all.
Yoongi would scoff at the idea. Probably blush a beautiful pink all across his porcelain skin if she ever spoke those words aloud. So, instead of telling him how much she appreciated him, she showed him by taking care of him. Just as he continued to take care of her.
Two kids out on the streets when they'd met, Yoongi had found her, taken her in, and busted his ass every day to ensure a better life for them both. He'd gotten them off the streets, worked his way up until he got his own shop, and even gotten her ass back into school. But even that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more for her, he'd said. So, he'd helped her enroll into a local college and was currently footing the bill for her tuition.
Y/N had protested, of course. Argued that he'd done enough for her. Said she didn't want to keep being a burden. Yoongi had just scoffed and shown up the next day with brochures for different community colleges.
It was just one of the many reasons she was head over heels in love with him. Had been since he had first found her bleeding and starving on the streets. Yoongi, of course, remained blissfully unaware. And Y/N was perfectly fine with that.
Growing up the way she did had left her with no small amount of emotional and mental scarring. Abandoned by druggie parents, abused by foster families while in the system, and then fighting for her life on the streets as a young teen had played hell on her self-esteem. It had also left her with bouts of depression, anxiety, trust issues, and piss poor coping mechanisms.
Yoongi, three years her senior, had done his best raising her. But a violent, fourteen-year-old girl with a death wish would've been hard to handle by even the most accomplished of adults. Let alone a seventeen-year-old street rat with a penchant for opiates. Despite all of that, he'd managed pretty well for the both of them. It hadn't been easy for either of them. But Yoongi never quit. He'd worked hard and sacrificed a lot to ensure a better life for them.
He'd cleaned up his act, gotten off the drugs, and made a name for himself. Y/N idolized him. She was proud of all he'd accomplished and grateful for all that he had done. In her eyes, she could never be good enough for him. Yoongi deserved the world. Not some no-name streets urchin with a lot of emotional baggage.
The thought brought a sharp pang in her chest that she immediately tamped down. Whatever or whoever Yoongi ended up with, Y/N would be happy as long as he was happy. She'd made that promise to herself years ago, and she wasn't about to let her stupid feelings mess it all up. He was special to her. For him, she could put aside her own feelings.
"I got a booger or something?" His deep voice cut into her train of thoughts. "You're staring."
"Yep, a big green one," she giggled, reaching up to boop the tip of his nose.
Yoongi scrunched his nose and tipped his head away from her. "Aish. This kid wants me to screw this up."
Y/N chuckled, her smile all teeth as she peered up into his face. "You won't screw it up, Yoongs."
A light pink flushed across his face at her candor. "Maybe not. But you will if you don't keep your ass still."
