Okay ngl making these lists are sm fun hehe and itās sort of my break from studying because once exam season starts idt Iāll have time to come here that much ahh anywayss check out these amazingg works by even more amazing writers and go give them all the love and supportšš„°!!
ONE SHOTS
Always You @jjungkookii
Genre: smut, comedy, angst, fluff
Summary: What starts as friendship built on inside jokes and late-night takeout slowly turns into something messier, heavier, and impossible to ignore. From the first meet through the birthday party, jealousy, confessions, and one hangover later-you and Yoongi finally cross the line you've both been toeing for far too long.
Sweetner @taegularities
Genre: fwb/kinda enemies to lovers; fluff, smut
Summary: You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.
Wake Up Call @borathae
Genre: Vampire!Yoongi, established relationship!AU, Smut
Summary: "You accidentally start your period in the middle of the night next to your boyfriend, who just so happens to be a vampire with a way too sensitive sense of smell."
Smile For Me @petersasteria
Genre: slow burn, coffee shop au
Summary: the new barista at the local cafe doesn't smile at all
Punch Drunk @joonbird
Genre: boxer au, smut, angst
Summary: āMin Yoongi talks with his fists, and the only language he knows is one of anger and pain. Heās damaged, untouchable, a boxing underdog with something to prove. You are the sister of Yoongiās rival - Jeon Jungkook, the number one elite boxer in your prefecture - and as Yoongi soon discovers, you are also his one and only weakness.ā
Ex Things @namfinessed
Genre: angst (after breakup!)
Summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.
Too Good At Pretending pt2 @cigarettesuga
Genre: idol!fwb!yoongi x producer!fem!reader, smut, slow-burn tension
Summary: itās after midnight in a nearly-empty hybe building, and sheās still buried in deadlines and demos, jaw clenched and hands in her hair ā until the only person who knows her chaos in silence shows up, just as worn out and just as emotionally unavailable. but when yoongi finds her in studio 3A, looking like she hasn't slept and biting down on her own frustration, the air shifts. and when he pulls her into his lap and tells her to be quiet if she doesnāt want the whole floor hearing ā neither of them is thinking about feelings. only about relief. except everyone knows ā even if they donāt say it out loud ā theyāre already each other's. just too damn stubborn to admit it.
Love Grows Where You Go @hueseok
Genre: angst | fluff | smut | arranged marriage au | pining au | ft. tsundere!yoongi
Genre: childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, angst
Summary: you and yoongi have been best friends since childhood, and you pride yourselves in knowing everything about each other. well, everything except the quiet, growing warmth neither of you dare to name
Never, Never Fall @joheunsaram
Genre: angst, fluff, light smut, exes to lovers, rapper!Yoongi
Summary: A year after you broke off your engagement to the man you imagined spending forever with, he invites you to dinner out of the blue.
Summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and youāre reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, youāre left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if itās just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.
Maybe This Time @minyoobby so for this fic idk why but once you reach her masterlist list and click the chapters itās all empty so youāll have to go to her BTS smau tag and scroll a long way down to read this series but totally worth it!!
Genre: idol!au
Summary: Stealing songs, and marketing them as your own is the worst thing you could do being in the music industry. Youāre fake, lazy, unprofessional, a thief, and a liar. Being accused of something so serious, y/n didn't know what to do. Y/N thought she could rely on her best friends but they turned their backs on her. With no evidence in her favor, she ran. Now a year later, sheās ready to live the life that she lost and clear her name. Will she be able to handle facing those who betrayed her? Will she be able to trust them again after everything they did to her? Maybe this time, sheāll gain back the friendships and love that she lost. Maybe this time, sheāll find a new love to carry her through her hurt and pain.
Your Universe @muniimyg
Genre: basketball captain // tsundere yoongi + sunshine // preschool edu major oc,friends to lovers, uni au, smut, crack, angst, social media au + written
Summary: in which min yoongi refuses to lose you
Nerd And Nerdier @ktownshizzle
Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle, BTS x SVT crossover AU
Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when itās Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into aā¦ rap battle.
āØfics I'd love to read again for the first timeāØ
a compilation of fics I'd love for someone to erase them from my memory so I can read them again for the first time, in no particular order or category
glimpse: having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; heās easy to love. your relationshipās perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesnāt think sometimes ā and thatās what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.
alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.
[ angst, arranged marriage au, fluff n really wholesome scenes (it cancels out the angst i swear), Jungkook Tries Hard (affectionate), miscommunication, jealousy, self-deprecation, sexual innuendos (no actual smut here!!), did i already say that jungkook tries rlly hard and is remorseful the whole time ]
notes: my year-ender fic for 2022 :) thank u for being here ā iām grateful for all ur love n support!! iāll see u in the next one <3
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!
It's the dream project until you find out that your favourite idol doesn't want you there.
Part 1
Pairing: Yoongi x female reader
Genre: IdolAU / Angst / Smut
Warnings: Nothing much here.
Word count: 5K+
---
I stare at the blank white of his bedroom door like it might open if I apologize hard enough in my head. It stays shut. I wait one minute, then two, then I realize how pathetic I look standing in the middle of his living room holding nothing but regret and my phone. I leave.
The hallway feels colder on the way down. I do not cry in elevators, especially not in hotels where the carpets cost more than my flight. I press my thumb into the corner of my eye anyway and sniff once, then fix my mouth like nothing happened.
Si-Hyeon is asleep with one arm thrown over his face and a towel turban that is losing its last fight. I sit on the edge of the bed. I sit until the mattress stops swaying, then I reach for my phone.
I type, delete, type again. I land on something small.
I am sorry. I did not know. Thank you for thinking of us.
I stare at the screen. It reads like a corporate email. I send it anyway because a bad text is better than silence. The delivery tag turns blue. No reply.
I plug my charger in, turn the brightness down, and lie on my back. My heart goes loud. The ceiling does not care.
When I finally sleep, it is the kind that drops you into dark water and does not let you come up.
Morning is a slap. Wake up calls, messages, a knock at the door. I get dressed on autopilot and pull my hair up. The bruise on my neck is a dull galaxied mauve under concealer. I cover it again and pretend I do not see it.
We roll suitcases into the lobby with everyone else. I keep my movements tidy. I avoid looking toward the corner where Yoongi is talking to Sejin. I fail once. He looks up at the exact same time. Nothing dramatic happens. Our eyes meet. His go back to the schedule sheet in his hand. Mine go to the marble floor.
On the bus to the airport he takes the front seat. I sit in the second row on the other side next to a window. We pass water on our right and I focus on nothing. The crew is half asleep. The sky is too clean.
Check-in, security, the stupid thrill of duty free. All of it feels like moving through someone elseās day. I end up in line at a coffee shop and realize too late that Sejin is behind me and Yoongi is behind him. Great. The universe loves a meet-cute. The universe can mind its business.
Sejin orders for both of them. I move away to the cutlery stand and pretend to consider wooden stirrers like they are rare artifacts. A shadow comes up next to mine.
āYour text was an apology,ā he says.
I do not look at him. āYes.ā
āIt felt like a memo.ā
āMaybe I am better at memos.ā
He takes a breath. āI do not like ending days like that.ā
āMe neither.ā
āThen fix it,ā he says, quiet, and walks away with his coffee before I can manage a single sentence that does not sound like me swallowing gravel.
The gate is full of people who look like they are used to getting on planes for work and not because they want to see anything. We board. I end up with a window and an empty middle seat. He appears and fills the aisle seat. Of course he does. The universe is a comedian.
I buckle up. He buckles up. The flight attendant does her demonstration. The plane drifts, lines up, roars. I stare out at the runway until it blurs. I can feel heat along my left side where his arm is near mine. We are not touching. It feels like we are.
āI do not like misunderstandings,ā he says when the plane is climbing.
āI know,ā I say. āI do not either.ā
āYou looked at me last night like I was a problem you could solve with an exit,ā he says, still looking forward.
āI am not used to wanting things from clients,ā I say. āI am not used to wanting things I cannot control.ā
There is a long pause.
He says, āI did not plan for it to be only one day.ā
My throat works around something thick. āI know that now.ā
He nods. Silence again. Clouds below us look like someone frosted the sea. His hand is on his knee. He is calm, or good at pretending.
āI was angry,ā I say.
āI noticed.ā
āI was wrong.ā
āI noticed,ā he says again, softer this time.
I turn my face toward him. He looks at me. No performance. Just his eyes steady on mine. I feel myself go warm from my chest out.
āDo you still want to talk to me when we land,ā I ask, āor do you want me out of your way until the album meeting?ā
āI want to talk to you when we land,ā he says. āI will text you the room.ā
We do not speak for the next hour. He sleeps with his head tipped back. I watch a bad movie with the sound off. When the plane drops through clouds, my stomach drops with it. I do not know if I am nervous or excited. Both feel like the same color right now.
We land. The crew peels off to baggage. He disappears into VIP corridors with Sejin and two airport staff. My phone buzzes when I am standing by carousel four.
Penthouse. Give me twenty. Please do not run away again.
I do not run. I go.
The hotel is the same, but different in daylight. I take the private elevator up. My reflection looks annoyingly composed. I ring. The door opens halfway and then all the way. He is in a black tee and sweatpants and no socks. His hair is a little messy like he did not bother with a mirror. He looks like someone I have already kissed. My stomach does that drop again.
He steps back. I go in. The door shuts. We stand there like idiots in the soft hum of air conditioning.
āI was too harsh last night,ā he says. āI did not want to shut you out.ā
āI was too quick to assume the worst,ā I say. āI felt stupid and I did not want to feel stupid in front of you.ā
He watches me for a second. āYou think I am dangerous to your pride.ā
āI think you are dangerous to a lot of things,ā I say, and then I hate how honest that comes out.
His mouth twitches. He gestures to the couch. We sit. There is half a bottle of water on the table and an untouched fruit plate. He folds his hands and unfolds them.
āI told Sejin I would take an hour and then meet him,ā he says. āSo we do not have long.ā
āThen we should be clear,ā I say. āI want to work with you. I want the album. I also want you.ā
The words hit air and hang there. He does not let them fall.
āI want you,ā he says back, like he has been waiting for permission to say it in that order. āThe work is separate, but I know it will still make lines messy. I do not want to hide. I also do not want it to ruin what we built the last two months.ā
Something loosens in my chest. I nod. āWe can set rules. We already run a company. We know how to act in rooms. We know how not to be stupid in front of teams. We can be stupid in private.ā
That gets a short laugh out of him, quiet and real. āI can do private,ā he says. He reaches for my hand and stops. He waits.
I thread my fingers through his. Heat climbs up my neck.
āAsk me something honest,ā I say. āSo this stops feeling like a scene and starts feeling like us.ā
He takes a breath. āWere you jealous,ā he asks, and I know he is not talking about work anymore. He is talking about the idea that anyone else might have this soft version of him I got to see last night, the one under the work, the one that asked if I had anyone in my life, the one who told me he did not.
āYes,ā I say. āEvery time someone else had your attention. It was stupid.ā
āIt was not stupid,ā he says. āI was jealous too.ā
āOf who,ā I ask, a little incredulous.
āYour job. Your confidence. Your friend who gets your first text. The sea. The cave,ā he says like it is obvious, then looks a little embarrassed, which is unfair because men like him should not get to be embarrassed and still look that good.
I lean in. He meets me halfway.
The kiss starts slow, like last night, like he wants to check the temperature before he dives. My mouth opens under his and I taste mint from the hotel toothpaste. His thumb strokes the side of my neck where the bruise is, careful and claiming at the same time. My body goes pliant and tight in turns. I make a sound in my throat that is not for public consumption. He swallows it.
I end up on his lap without remembering how. His hands are on my waist, then my back, then under the hem of my shirt. He is warm. I feel like a live wire. There is no rush in his movements, but there is nothing patient either. He kisses like he has nothing to prove and something to lose.
āBedroom,ā he says against my mouth.
āPlease,ā I say, which surprises me because I do not like saying please. He stands with me still wrapped around him, then sets me down. We walk, not fast, but not slow.
His bedroom is dimmer. The curtains are only halfway open. It smells like his soap. I kick my sneakers off and reach for the hem of my shirt. He stops my hands.
āI want to do it,ā he says, and I let him.
He peels my shirt up and off. The air touches my skin. He steps back like he has to blink. I stand there and try not to fidget.
āYou are beautiful,ā he says. His voice is even, but there is something like reverence in it. I do not know what to do with that, so I kiss him again so I can forget all the ways my chest feels too bright.
We find a rhythm that is both careful and hungry. His mouth on my collarbone is almost polite, then he finds the spot he left last night and his politeness burns off. His teeth scrape lightly. His tongue soothes. I arch into it before I can stop myself. His hand slides down my stomach and under the waist of my skirt.
āTell me if you want me to stop,ā he says.
āI will,ā I say, and I mean it.
He watches my face while he touches me over my underwear first, and the focus in him is its own heat. I rock into his hand and find his mouth and lose it for a second when he slips fingers under the edge and strokes where I am already embarrassingly wet. He smiles against my jaw like he can feel the way my pulse jumps.
āHere,ā he says, and presses just right. My breath catches. He tests, learns, files the information away. His fingers slide slow and then faster. I clutch his shoulder and make a noise I do not recognize as mine.
āBed,ā he says again, less like a suggestion this time. I pull him with me and fall back.
He goes down my body like he is letting himself have something he has waited to taste. His hair brushes my stomach. I look down and nearly lose my mind at the sight of him between my thighs. He hooks his fingers into the sides of my underwear and looks up. I lift my hips. He slides them down and off. Cool air hits me. His hands are on the inside of my knees and then the outside, easing me open. He kisses the bruise on my inner thigh like it is a secret, then he licks a clean slow line that empties my lungs.
āYoongi,ā I say, because anything else is unreasonable.
He hums against me and the vibration makes my eyes shut. He is not shy about the way he eats me. He is not messy either. He is focused and greedy and patient in the exact dangerous combination that makes me claw at the sheets. He uses his mouth and then he adds a finger and then two, slow, checking, filling. He curls them just right. I break a little on a gasp.
I am not a woman who begs. I hear myself beg. He pulls back only to say, āI have you,ā and then goes back in and proves it.
The orgasm hits hard enough that I choke on it. I arch. My legs shake. He works me through it like he knows the language already. I ride his hand until the world comes back.
He kisses his way up, slow. My body is a low buzz. His mouth finds mine and I taste myself. He settles over me and I feel him hard against my thigh. I hook a leg around his hip. He groans, quiet, into my hair like he is trying not to make any noise at all. It is hot and unfair.
āDo you have,ā he starts, and I reach to my bag in a blind frantic stretch that probably looks ridiculous. I find my wallet, the side pocket, the small silver packet. I hold it up like a prize. He grins, a quick flash, and takes it. He tears it, rolls it on, and the sight of his hands doing something that practical with that much control does something to my brain I am not prepared for.
āTell me if it is too much,ā he says when his body lines up with mine. I nod, then realize I need words. āI will,ā I say again, breathless.
He pushes in slow, then holds. I grip his forearm and inhale. It is a stretch that borders on too much, then slides firmly into perfect. He lets me adjust, eyes on mine. It is the eye contact that undoes me. I pull on his shoulder and he sinks the rest of the way. We both swear.
He moves like he is learning me and showing me at the same time. He does not rush. He sets an unhurried thrust that finds a pressure I can push back against. My hands go everywhere. His back, his waist, the side of his neck. He pins my wrists above my head for a second, just to see if I like it. I do. He lets go so I can touch him again. He bends to kiss me and I kiss back like I have been saving it.
It builds. He changes angle and hits something that makes my vision go white at the edges. I gasp. He does it again. He curses softly and keeps going. I am loud now. I am sure the floor below knows my name. He does not look away. He keeps his eyes on mine, and it feels merciless and tender.
āI am close,ā he says, tight, like a warning and a promise.
āMe too,ā I say, and it is true. The second one rushes up faster than I expect. He slips a hand between us without breaking rhythm and presses where he already knows it will finish me. The sound I make is not safe for work. I come hard and everything folds sweet and sharp. I clutch him. He follows a breath after with a low sound that ends against my neck.
We stay like that for a minute, catching air. He kisses my shoulder, my jaw, the corner of my mouth like he cannot stop. My fingers are still curled in his hair. My body hums like a wire that finally grounded.
He pulls out carefully and ties off the condom. He stands to toss it and then does this polite thing where he brings me a damp towel and I love him for being a decent human in a world full of men who are not.
I lie on my side and watch him while he cleans up. The room is quiet except for our breathing. The curtains throw soft stripes on the bed.
He slides back in beside me and pulls me in until my nose is in his shirt and my thigh is over his. It is not elegant. It is warm.
āI am late,ā he says into my hair but does not move.
āTell Sejin I kidnapped you,ā I say.
āHe will believe it,ā he says, amused.
āGood,ā I say. āLet him.ā
He kisses the top of my head. The place where my skull meets my neck goes warm.
āWe need to talk about rules,ā he says after a second, practical again because of course he is. āNo touching at work unless necessary. No looks that make people whisper. No texting during meetings. If we argue, we do it after the day is done. If one of us says we need space, we respect it. If it interferes with the album, we stop and reset.ā
I nod. My mouth twists. āI hate that last one.ā
āI hate it too,ā he says. āBut it keeps us safe.ā
āOkay,ā I say. āAnd one more.ā
āWhat.ā
āNo disappearing into your room and locking the door if I say something stupid,ā I say, half serious, half teasing, but not really joking. āTell me I am being an idiot to my face. I can take it.ā
He smiles, small and real. āDeal. And you do not run away after kissing me in a cave.ā
āDeal,ā I say, then I poke his chest. āAnd you do not vote me out of jobs without telling me why first.ā
He gives me a look. āI did tell you. You did not let me finish.ā
āSemantics,ā I say and burrow closer.
His phone buzzes on the nightstand. He groans. He reaches, reads, kisses my cheek, then sits up.
āI have to go,ā he says. āDinner tonight. My place. No crew. Just us.ā
āYou cook,ā I ask.
āI can order,ā he says, deadpan, and I laugh into the pillow.
He dresses. I watch him put himself back together and feel smug and soft in a way that is new. He comes back to the bed and kisses me once, gentle, then one more time, less gentle. I hold his shirt and almost ask him to stay, then let him go because I am not a teenager and adults finish their jobs before they roll around again.
The door clicks behind him. I stare at the ceiling for a second, then I get up and find my bra where it fell like a dead star under the chair. I fix my face in the mirror and laugh at my own mouth because it looks swollen and happy.
My phone lights up.
Sejin just asked me why I look like I got everything I wanted. You have thirty minutes to act normal before he figures it out. Dinner at eight. Do not be late.
I grin. Then I text back the only thing that makes sense.
Prompt #3: You are in love with your best friend. He writes a song called Unrequited, but it is not about you.
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader
Summary: Youāve been in love with your best friend for years, but when you stumble upon his new song, Unrequited, youāre convinced itās about someone else. Weeks of avoidance, misunderstandings, and bottled-up feelings finally erupt into the one conversation youāve both been avoiding ā and the truth changes everything.
Genre: Slow-burn coworkers-to-lovers, idol AU, best friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy ending, older woman by a few years
Warnings: Heavy pining, jealousy, workplace proximity, mutual misunderstanding, emotional tension, heated makeouts, minor swearing, mentions of other love interests (misunderstanding), strong language, fade-to-black intimacy, happy ending
Word count: ~9.3k
Posting date: August 11, 2025
---
It has been a while since you have felt something like this. A feeling so strong that nothing else has made sense. Even after you have rationalised it, broken it down into whys and nots and pros and cons, you always end up at the same conclusion. You love him.
The list has always been comprehensive. He is genuinely kind and goes out of his way for the people he cares about, and he cares about you. That is true. Over the last few years, you and he have gotten closer, especially since you started working directly for him. The work friendship adapted and evolved into a real one, and now he is one of your best friends. Finding friends, real friends, at this age is rare, and you have found him. And he has you. You have earned your place in the closest-circle category, carved out space in his world meant just for you. That is not a lie.
But just because he is kind and takes extra care with you does not mean it is love. Maybe it is the unnecessary but now habitual hand-holding. Maybe it is the late nights at your place, the warm smell of buttered popcorn in the air as you explored films in languages neither of you speak. Maybe it is the many letters and emails he sent you while he was away, the paper still faintly smelling of his cologne. It has to mean more, and for you it has always meant love.
āUnrequited,ā you say out loud, the word tasting strange in your mouth as your eyes trace the heading scrawled in his uneven handwriting. The pages lie scattered across his desk, curling slightly at the edges. You are here to pick him up before heading to a friendās farewell, but he is taking forever, and now you are alone in his studio. The air is warm with the faint hum of old equipment, and the scent of stale coffee lingers from a paper cup on the console.
It is hard not to read further. You are too curious for your own good, too much of a fan to resist. He has shared works-in-progress before, sometimes accidentally, since you usually handle finalised tracks and release plans. Spending time together means things get shared, from riffs played absentmindedly to half-finished choruses hummed under his breath.
But the word Unrequited feels heavy, like something dropped into your stomach.
Your heart sinks, an ache that seems to tighten your chest. You turn the page, desperate for something familiar, some mention of the inside jokes you share or the way you tease each other mid-work calls. Nothing. Every line paints a picture of someone he has loved for a long time, someone who does not reciprocate.
And then you see the name. Mina.
In all your love for him, you never realised.
She is on your team, though you barely interact. You try to recall moments when she could have been such a fixture in his life without you noticing. How could your best friend have feelings for someone else, and you never saw it?
You open her Instagram. Her profile picture looks like it belongs in a magazine. Hair catching sunlight, laughter frozen mid-shot. You think, what an idiot, not to reciprocate his feelings. Then, what a bigger idiot I am, to love a man whose heart was never mine.
Why has he been spending all this time with you instead of chasing her? Everyone sees the two of you together. It is no secret. But suddenly, you are running through all the ways he could have been with her instead.
The faint creak of the studio door snaps you out of your thoughts.
āOkay, I am here,ā Yoongi says, walking in, his face now looking far more alive than it had thirty minutes ago. The faint scent of his aftershave drifts into the room. āI cannot believe we are going to a farewell. Honestly, no one will be expecting me. No one will care. What? Why are you so pale?ā
His hands are warm against your cheeks as he cups your face, his thumbs brushing your skin lightly. It is actions like these that make your heart imagine possibilities that cannot exist.
You shrug his hands off. āI am fine. I already told them you are coming,ā you say quickly, standing up and putting distance between you.
āYou okay? What is up?ā He reaches out to hold your hand, but your mind is too busy replaying situations where he could have chosen her instead of you. Maybe you are just a convenient replacement, now that he has realised his feelings for Mina are one-sided.
āYup, letās go.ā You take the lead out of the room while he grabs his wallet and follows you.
The farewell is only a few floors down. The closer you get, the more you feel the dull buzz of music from the hall. Mina will be there. You do not feel like being in the same room with her and Yoongi, only to start realising situations you never considered before.
āRemind me again what he does?ā Yoongi asks in the elevator. The click of the buttons is sharp in the quiet space, and you stew in your thoughts.
āPublicist. He managed your D-Day release,ā you mutter. āHow can you forget?ā Does he only remember things Mina does?
āOf course,ā Yoongi says, frowning at your sudden agitation. He knows you well enough to see you are pouting, thinking faster than you can keep up with yourself. āJust slipped my mind.ā
The farewell is a blur. The scent of cake icing mixes with the faint musk of the crowd. You keep looking for signs that he might be watching Mina. He does not. No side glances, no sighs. He talks to Namjoon or another producer, then stands next to you, whispering jokes to make you smile. If he has written a whole heartbreak song for this woman, he hides it well.
āI am gonna go,ā you say after your last attempt to spark some interaction between them fails. Neither of them seems interested in speaking to the other.
āWhat, wait.ā Yoongi catches your wrist. His grip is warm and firm. āYou brought me here, you cannot abandon me.ā He laughs.
āIt is your company. And Joon is here too.ā You pull your hand away.
āWe have our movie night tonight. Will you come by seven?ā
āYou know seven on a Friday is prime time. People go on dates, dinners, approach people they like and ask them out.ā
āDo you have a date?ā He tilts his head. āYou are choosing a date over our ritual.ā
āStop it,ā you roll your eyes.
āI will see you at seven. I have been waiting to watch this movie, and you are not bailing.ā
You are too caught up in your own thoughts to process his words, so you do not go.
The next day, he barges into the office, calling your name loudly enough for every head to turn. You duck behind your laptop, but he strides over. āCan I speak to you? Or should I start asking my questions here for everyone to hear?ā
āOkay, okay, follow me.ā You lead him into a meeting room.
āWhat is wrong with you? I called and called, so much that I thought something happened to you. Then I see Daniel post a story with you in it.ā
āHe came over to meet Suzy,ā you explain. āI was just there.ā
āAnd you could not answer my calls?ā His arms fold across his chest. āIt is rude. What is up with you? Did I do something? You were fine until your sour mood yesterday.ā
āNothing, I just did not feel okay.ā
āYou know what? When you figure it out, let me know.ā He walks out.
Days pass. You avoid him. Until one late evening, the office almost empty, you hear the scrape of a chair behind you.
āYouāre still here,ā Yoongi says.
āSo are you.ā
āI had a session. Youāre here avoiding me.ā
āIām working.ā
āYouāve been avoiding me for two weeks.ā
You finally turn to him. āI found Unrequited.ā
He blinks, then leans forward. āYou read it? What did you think of it? Iāve been sitting on those lyrics for two weeks. It was brutal to write them. I wanted to hear your thoughts sooner, but youāve been hard to get a hold of.ā
āI didnāt know you felt so strongly about Mina,ā you say quietly. āDoes she know?ā
āMina?ā His brows knit. āWhy would I write about Mina?ā
āWhat?ā
āI took inspiration from Seohyunās experience. You know, the producer. She told me about something she went through. I wrote it down for inspiration.ā
āYou didnāt even know Minaās name?ā
He shakes his head. āNot really. I put it there as a placeholder so I could finish the verse.ā
āAre you kidding me? I thought you were in love with her, that youād had all these experiences with her. I kept wondering when you found the time because youāre always in the studio or with me. I thought all these feelings I have had to go awayāā
āFeelings? What feelings?ā
āIt doesnāt matter now. Itās all fictional.ā
āIt matters. Tell me.ā
āYou dummy,ā you say, your voice breaking. āI love you. I have for a long time. I was stupid enough to think maybe it could mean more. But when I read that song, it felt worse. Worse because I could take your rejection, but not before I got the chance to tell you.ā
He is quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked on yours.
āYou have no idea how long Iāve wanted to hear that,ā he says at last, his voice low.
Then he is kissing you.
It is deep from the first second, the kind of kiss that feels like itās trying to make up for every moment you didnāt have this. His hand slides into your hair, pulling you closer. You taste coffee and something faintly sweet on his lips. Your hands fist in his hoodie.
When he pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against yours. āIām not letting you run from me again.ā
You donāt answer before heās kissing you again, rougher this time, his hands sliding down to your waist and tugging you onto his lap. Your palms flatten against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. His lips trail down your jaw, then your neck, leaving a path of heat.
He bites lightly at the base of your throat, and you shift instinctively against him, drawing a low sound from his throat.
āStill think this doesnāt matter?ā he murmurs.
āIt matters,ā you whisper.
He stands, lifting you with him, and your legs wrap around his waist. He carries you to the desk, setting you down gently. For a moment, the kiss softens, slow and deep, until you are dizzy with it.
His mouth trails from yours to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slide from your face to your waist, thumbs pressing into your sides.
āTell me to stop,ā he murmurs, his voice rough.
You meet his eyes. āDonāt stop.ā
---
Yoongi is back! Yay! I couldn't help myself. What do you guys think? It's been so long I wanted to write something sweet.
Thank you for reading this you lovely lovely person!
You will do well to remember that Yoongi is in love with his job first; he is married to his music and is merely cheating with you. There's no space or capacity in his life for commitment to a human; only, the way he cares for you betrays his inconvenient feelings.
warnings/tags: FWB, unreciprocated feelings, jealousy, emotionally cold lovers, dual pov, aerophobia, lovers to exes to ???, drunk sex, cursing, emotionally unavailable Yoongi, hiking in Japan, smut kind of hits you in the face a little, but it's not super graphic?
word count: 12652
music: on the low by justin park, i like it by skz, spring attitude by sunwoojunga
author's note: guys i am stuck in dramatic present. break me out pls
"Shit".
"What?"
You slide the chapstick over your lips.
"It's mint".
Yoongi makes the curious cat-face, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together.
"Let me try?"
He found you on the balcony at one of the corporate parties. Those same parties where there was always one particular asshole recording things from under the elbow, in secret, for "reassurance". Thankfully, that evening didn't leak. Yoongi found you on the balcony when you were standing with your hand outstretched, catching rain, and he thought, thank fuck. A normal person. Some piano music was playing, reminding him of Mount Tate. It made him think of low Japanese pines and the fresh morning up above the ground. The droplets were gathering in your palm. You recognized his silhouette although you hadn't spoken before that. You were in too deep from the very beginning.
Now he is kissing you in the corridor of your Hannam-dong apartment, tasting the chapstick and making a face.
"It's freezing".
He's leaving first. You leave fifteen minutes later after his car is half way out of the neighbourhood. You aren't seen together in the street or establishments, unless it's an idol-approved restaurant where mobile phone use is banned altogether, and all the staff is on a massive pile of various NDAs. You do not get to hold hands or speak sweetly to each other, but he gets to watch his dick slide in and out of you, your lips wrap around it, gets to squeeze your breast and twist it, slap your thigh as you bounce on his lap, gets to mess your hair in his fist, yanking your head back, and you get to hear him produce god-fearing moans as he is orgasming under you. You do not date, you are four times removed colleagues and fuck buddies, and for the longest time it works well and boosts productivity tenfold. Stressed? Fuck. Depressed? Fuck. Yoongi can growl at his soundboard, then fall backwards onto his chair and keep falling until he lands head first on your lap. You are careful not to linger with your hand in his hair for too long lest he gives you that look that you don't like. When the tint of pleasure and casuallness slips off his pupil and he starts looking inside of you.
The reason is has been working so well was because you were both too busy and aloof to think about it. Two consenting adults, surviving on coffee shots and IVs, just trying to cum once in a while, and have someone around, who doesn't piss you off. Who doesn't know the people you talk shit about, so they don't side with them.
The fallout happened for you when you noticed him wrinkle his whole face as he squeezed a silicone slime, anatomically correct heart, in a futile attempt to "release the stress". Producer laughed at his snoot. You thought, oh, he's cute.
Oh, shit, he's cute.
Then the whole wagon of romance bullshit started filling your head and it felt like from then on you had about twice as much work. The load that feelings put on you cannot be overestimated. It's the constant thinking, even when you need to be concentrated. It drains the fun out of the sexual arrangement because now, instead of laughing at his jokes, you feel the fire at your ears and awkwardly giggle.
As he brushes his open palm across your hip in a mindless gesture, all of a suden, your whole body jerks, reacts, like a car starting all over again, like you've been zipped.
"Whoa. Haven't had enough?" he asks in the deep, rumbling voice that always gives you one promise. If you want, he can fuck for hours. Ten minutes in between rounds, glass of water, and he's good to go again. Yoongi is never stingy with compliments about your body; he always lets you know when you look breathtaking, and how the angle is to die for, and how nice your curves are, and how he appreciates you.
What he isn't generous with, is the actual connection.
On the day when you simply hang out in the same space, you, with your laptop, getting the documents ready, you decide to annoy him under the guise of being mad at everybody else. You're glad you have established earlier that you're an easily irritable person, because now Yoongi isn't suspicious when you seek his company.
But when you step to him from behind, completely misreading the atmosphere, and put your hands around his shoulders, he flinches. Yoongi never yells, god forbid, or even grunts at you, but instead, he turns around quite coldly, and says,
"Don't make it weird, okay? There was no need for that".
He shows you your place. You are, to each other, instruments. Friends almost, he enjoys your sense of humour when you're cool, and, preferably, naked. He respects your space and expects you to do the same with him. You know he is somebody who needs a lot of alone time. You are the same. The elite type of people who know how to be alone. But you have miscalculated that, after all the sixty-nines, maybe, a hug wouldn't be too out of the line. It is though.
It hurts you because you had already lost. The day when he found you on the balcony catching the rain and made an adorably cautious conversation, you had recognized his frame before he stepped into the pool of light, and you should have known that the cup will overflow and you will fall in love with him.
Like, it's ridiculous, who wouldn't? He constantly makes these funny faces, shaking his oval head, and crunches his nose, and is so quiet that it draws you in. When he comes over for the first time, the fucking doesn't start for thirty minutes because he is fixing a closet door that caught his eye. He is this... an effortlessly lovable, rare person. Emotionally shut, which you interpret as manipulation instead of a fact. His gaze tells you, yes, it only takes two screws. What's the big deal?
You are deeply hurt by his rejection, then a little concerned when he doesn't text for a whole week; it's getting dangerous because you don't know where the line is, that you shouldn't cross. You practice with his brothers: Namjoon seems to like you, and you tend to work with him a lot, sampling his voice and sending him variants. You learn this about yourself: casual touch isn't a norm at all, so it's fair that Yoongi got alarmed at it. You avoid touching people even when you are very drunk: no matter how soft, attractive, squishy they look, you tend to keep your hands to yourself. His suspicion in quenched after a bit, he starts looking you in the eye again as you play annoyance. Yoongi is the type to quietly retreat from an argument, to give up if it takes too much effort to battle; to pretend not to notice rather than confront. When there's a quarrel breaking out, which happens relatively often considering how many different people he is surrounded with, and him, having his authentic, strong opinions; when there's a fight, he visibly shuts off, covers his stomach with his arms and slightly turns around, checks out. Especially when it doesn't concern him or his band. Especially with people he doesn't love.
And he doesn't love you. He likes you, respects you, finds you very attractive for some reason. But he shows love in a completely obvious, unmistakeable way. You know he loves Jimin because he never flinches when Jimin assaults him with hugs. He loves music because he spends all of his waking time with her; he speaks about music; he sees the world through her. He loves mountains, and it's simply easily readable in the way he looks around sometimes. He opens up rarely, and when it's about something that he wants to do, it's usually going to the mountains.
He doesn't love you because it's inconvenient, stressful and isn't booked in his schedule. In his daily life, almost every minute is dedicated to doing something. Even sleep is rationed; he knows what time he eats and what time he showers. There's very little space for improvisation, and at first you felt sorry for him. Because, even though you work in the same place, you are simply an office rat. You walk around the building teaching language models and giving them idol voices. You have days off, evenings off, lunch time and a circle outside work. You can walk the street without covering your head with a hood, a hat, glasses and a mask. You used to feel sorry for him because you thought Yoongi and his other boys were kind of victims to their jobs, but soon learnt that his insane schedule is his own doing. He made it. Training, gym, English, Japanese, guitar, vocals, piano, doctors, meetings, shooting, repeat. Asking him why he lives like that would be stupid. It's because he loves it.
You close up. Losers are left with feeling the sorrow and like the third wheel. That's what you get for catching feelings when you never wanted them in the first place. You're not star-struck: you see him in his least glamourous, in the mornings when he is so groggy that he looks like an old man, dragging his feet around the room, struggling to find his own pants. His hair is all but dead, dry, burnt, occasionally it gets softer when his hairdresser undertakes emergency treatments. You stop thinking of Yoongi as an idol three months into fucking him. That part of his life is constantly present, of course; you even get to see him in his public persona from time to time, but he feels like a different person then. Yoongi is just - surrounded by limits, often a physically unreachable lover, that you happened to get a crush on. You keep on living, having this affair, thinking that the feelings, undeveloped, tend to die sooner or later.
The only thing you can't forget is the look he has given you when he refused your hug. You're not enough to have the right to distract him from work. You aren't loved enough to nag on him or call him without a purpose. You should remember your place. He does good in not invading your space, so what's your excuse?
Otherwise, he's a good guy. Yoongi is generally kind and patient with everybody. If there's a choice, he chooses to do good.
You click your tongue and swipe the web page closed.
"Hm?"
Your favourite band is touring across Europe without thinking of dropping by your place, or at least somewhere in Asia.
"I can even get the tickets, but flights are too expensive because it's the season".
"Berlin?"
"Yeah", you reply absent-mindedly.
"I can take you. I can go there earlier".
"Don't you have the show in May?"
"They've asked me to choose the date, and I haven't decided yet", Yoongi stretches his arms, then falls on the side like a cat, pressing the top of his head to your ribs as his hand tickles them under your other arm. You shift. He knows you don't like tickling too much and does it when he wants a reaction. You clutch his hand shortly to tell him to stop, and his palm settles.
"But we have to go for three days then".
"I can't get time off work. On Monday I need to be back".
"Tell them you're sick".
You brush it off. It's not a big deal anyway. Yeah you haven't been to concerts in years, but you're not seventeen anymore. Life doesn't make it easy to constantly give in to all you desire. You don't have the power to move events like he does. Your hand instinctively touches his hair, and you manage to swipe through it once, before you catch yourself and let go. Yoongi isn't prickly at all, but that one time was more than enough. You don't need to be told twice.
"You know I can't just clear my schedule like that. They need me".
Even though your brain starts working immediately, weighing options, creating loopholes. Maybe you can say you have an emergency, or even leverage Yoongi himself telling them that since he is taking you out of the kindness of his heart, the management should give you a Friday and Monday off. He sighs without making it too sincere.
"You got time to think until tomorrow afternoon".
"Don't adapt for me".
"It's not a problem".
He leaves as usual, quickly and tidy, and you're thinking about the band. You haven't seen them in such a long time. If you get a free shot at going, you should probably take it. You shove all the other reasons deeper and out of the way because you know when Yoongi is working, he is all but absent.
By midnight, you send him a message saying you have dealt with it. He texts back a thumbs up. Asks if you need a ticket, too. Offers to go with you, and you don't take it as anything because when Yoongi is with you, he is actually nice. He is the kind of person who will offer help and then won't pout when it's accepted. You respond to him that you will go to the pit to thrash your head and slam people around, and he retracts the offer.
Then next time you meet, it's already on the private jet. You're taken to the plane fifteen minutes earlier by a security guy wearing flip-flops, while the airport is buzzing and waiting for Yoongi. You slither right through the crowd and to the gate, leaving them behind expecting the real star.
The star climbs up into the plane clutching his knitted hat in his hand and with a cup of iced coffee. Yoongi's eyes dart to the double seats on the other side where Mr Lee makes himself comfortable. You've chosen a single seat at the window, facing forward, so he crashes across the table from you, recalling vaguely that you are maybe afraid of flying. His memory is proven right when the take off begins, and he sees your face stuck to the window, hands clutching the armrests, mouth a lopsided smile like you're judging the gravity. He is sure there's something very loud going on in the airpods in your ears. He keeps observing, notifying with displeasure, that you're afraid for the most part of the flight, uneasy the whole way as the plane soars up, gaining speed and altitude, and then only mildly bothered for the other thirteen hours, only to get panicked again at the beginning of landing. As the runway approaches, he can see your chest freezing, like you are expecting to crash right into the ground, and he can't take it anymore: nudges your foot with his, pushing lightly, then leans over the table. You are too stressed to take an airpod out, so you just grab the hand that he puts out over the table, without taking your eyes off the land. The hold is so strong that Yoongi unwillingly imagines what it will be like at, say, childbirth. You will probably break his wrist.
"Why don't you drink before flight?" he asks, when the plane is firmly on the rest, as he stands up to get his bag from a nearby seat. Mr Lee leaves the plane with the manager and the stylists, to check if everything is ready.
"I get sick if there's turbulence. Once vomited all over a tiny Ryanair plane, it was horrible", you mumble. You feel positively exhausted after an excrutiatingly long flight. Yoongi had motioned towards the bed in the front segment of the plane, but you can never sleep while in the air: it's like the only thing keeping this thing going without nose diving is your pure terror.
"Jimin is coming, too. He wants to show up at the second performance", he remembers, "so you better fly back with us, too".
"Oh. The two us in one plane?"
He shrugs with a smile. Yoongi likes to note how you are a little similar to Jimin. He never clarifies in what ways; you don't work with his youngster a lot, so you have vague image of the guy. But you hear nice things about him, and like him by extention.
He hums instead of a goodbye, then leaves the plane as per Mr Lee's permission. You leave fifteen minutes later, when the arrivals hall is already clear, and the big SUV circles the terminal to pick you up on the corner. You feel happy after having survived yet another flight.
You attend your show and Yoongi attends his; only, while you're thrashing the life out of yourself in the pit to the favourite music, he is sitting like a good boy in the first row of a game, looking pretty. The next day, you would have left on your own to give everybody a surprise at work by showing up on time, but you weigh everything and realize that, if you were so terrified on a private flight, fifteen hours in commercial will be absolutely unbearable and result in some sticky mess. So you linger around Berlin, wander the city for the day after sleeping in, get cold in April weather, get caught up in the rain, eat some curry wurst and in the evening, go to see Yoongi's private performance for the lack of better things to do.
You hang around the dressing rooms before the performance, watching the stylists doll him up: it's always a pleasant sight. Brushes poking his button nose, he squeezes his eyes shut, moving the phone glued to his palm around. You know people are generally curious what the fuck he is constantly doing on his phone. Watches videos or plays mobile games. At the age of thirty-two, he already has several striking features of an old man, and the forecast doesn't look optimistic. Soon, he will start grumbling about the weather, too. His eyes dart to you as you start fidgeting with the coffee machine.
"Can I have one, too?"
"I am putting star anise in".
His stylist, a short quirky girl, turns around to give you a face full of disgust.
"Why?" Yoongo hoots. Like it's a crime.
"Experiment".
"You shouldn't have coffee now", his manager says.
"It tastes okay".
He is sent off to the tiny stage where he is going to entertain selected European fans and show off his average English. You wander around the place, expecting to see Jimin, who can't go on a week without his genius hyung's company. You heard he has a very packed month, promotions and too many rehearsals, all that while his knee injury isn't healed yet, but Jimin is always in a state of panic so he never wants to pedal back. Now he clawed three days out and darted from Seoul to Berlin to show support because he knows Yoongi doesn't feel too comfortable in Europe on his own. Even though he will never say. It's new information for you, and you have to constantly remind yourself you aren't entitled to it at all.
You find him in the smaller dressing room with monitors, observing Yoongi from a distance. There's a whole crew with the light and cameras swarming around him, while Jimin is hunched up on a chair, not even looking at the screens. His head is down, the lid of the cap hiding his face, hands in his pockets, one knee jerking up and down. You feel something like short-fused anger rise in you and don't think much before stepping in and getting into a shot.
"Hey", you look into the camera, then at the man trying to swerve around you, but you outpace him, making your way towards Jimin in little steps. You've seen this tiny guy at work often. Always running somewhere, his strong legs working. Always a smile on his face. You know much more about him from Yoongi who likes talking about his brothers. You know enough to want to protect him, which means, Yoongi always wants to protect him.
"Do you have to record him when he is like this?"
You can only see the tip of his chin, but then Jimin looks up at you, his eyes timid and glistening.
"He is upset. Is this content, too?"
You tilt your head, meeting their eyes. The crew starts grunting something quietly, cameras rolling.
"I am already in it, so I guess you'll have to delete it".
You sit down in front of him like he's a kid. Frankly, a lot of them look like kids. Most of them are only grown on paper, the age in their passports often doesn't respond to how they are. Many boys, stuck in the tender ages they have been traumatised in, by the company. Yoongi often acts like he is a mature twenty-year old which aligns with his debut age.
You put your hands on his knees and lower your voice.
"Who did this, Jiminie?"
The tone makes him chuckle immediately. He sighs like it's a relief. You're glad you have that sense of humour, coupled with your small size, that makes guys smile.
"I'm alright".
"Yeah? You just tell me who upset you, and I'll beat them up".
The recording crew retreats dissatisfied because you refuse to leave his side. Jimin throws them one cautious look and his face lights up just a little.
"Beat them up?"
"Yeah, I go to gym, bro, I punch the bag all the time".
His left knee shakes with his laughter. He adjusts the cap and takes the second hand out of the pocket of his hoodie.
"Thank you".
"No problem. I am a very angry person, I am always ready to protect pretty boys like you".
Yoongi returns to the dressing room a little sweaty, just a little agitated, his nervous system alarmed but satisfied with yet another linguistic adventure overcome without a catastrophe, and sees Jimin snicker at your words as your hands clutch his knees like he is the little princess and you're his suitor. He sees it from the door the handle of which he clutches, and he notices things instantly. How you smile, bowing to see his eyes, how Jimin's hand flies up to his neck, how his voice rumbles deeply to make him sound more manly. Yoongi also notices the tremor in his injured knee and walks over to join you.
As you see him, you stand up and give space.
Yoongi's hand caresses Jimin's head.
"Don't be upset about it".
"I let you down, hyung".
"You didn't. You're here, aren't you? I am happy you're here".
You step away quietly as Yoongi keeps comforting him, glowing in his white outfit, hair slicked back and with highlighter on his cheeks. Looks too much like a groom.
Back at the hotel, Yoongi keeps waddling in and out of the bathroom with a brush in his mouth, one hand in his hair.
"How was the concert?"
"You asked me yesterday and I told you everything", you reply, without taking your eyes off the phone.
"Right. You caught any confetti?"
"No".
"Why not? People gather them and stuff them in jars, you know. We always try to invent new shapes for confetti so that ours will have different jars with different confetti".
You look up at him. He looks like a guy you could spend the rest of your life with, and it hurts quite frankly. So cosy, handsome with his hair undone, plain white tee, one hand sawing something in his mouth with the toothbrush.
"You had coffee, didn't you?"
He shrugs.
"Why don't you ever babygirl me like you did with Jimin?"
A chuckle rumbles in your chest.
"You never show any weakness".
You see that makes him think, actually. Yoongi is probably too caught up in his life to notice such things, to pay attention to himself. He produces a short pondering hm and disappears back into bathroom. This chitchat pisses you off. He is usually way less talkative. Polite, friendly, but not very open. You don't like it when he acts like you have hope. The old grudge you have festers in you for too long, growing from a little childish sore into a sort of trauma. You avoid touching him for too long, talking to him about personal stuff. He usually doesn't respond anything, at best. Establishing limits in the beginning was kind of humiliating; he would take your hand off his shoulder softly, saying he will vacate you at once if you find someone serious. The same goes for him.
Now he gets into bed and his hand is on the top of your head, patting. His arm wraps around your waist as he pushes himself closer. These two days were too tiring and busy so you didn't have any sex, thus, it's even more intimate when he does this. You don't flinch, but instead tense your body up, bitterness a juice in your brain.
"Don't make it weird", you ask. Yoongi lifts himself up on an elbow to look you in the face.
"Huh?"
"I am uncomfortable when you hug me like this".
In the bluish darkness of the room, you can see his bewildered, surprised expression.
"Are you serious right now?"
And you know, you know his mind wanders back to that one time he flinched. Because you know he remembers.
You nod.
"I can't fall asleep with your arm on me anyway", you lie, "it's too heavy".
With a sigh in between his teeth, he removes his hand but doesn't turn away yet.
"What's gotten into you?" then pause, "is it because I told you to back off once?"
It's spectacular how for both of you, that one occasion is a sharp rock shining painful white of awkwardness and unspoken spite.
"Hey, I don't need you to repeat. But you have to respect the limits, too", you say calmly. You understand his shock, because nothing this evening indicated there were any problems. But the outburst is inevitable from time to time, simply because you react to his touch the way you wish you didn't. When it's not during sex, when it's not possessive, you have to ask yourself what's the reason for touching you at all. Yoongi sniffs through his nose.
"Isn't it a little too dramatic? You're really sore about that?"
"I am not".
"Then what's the problem? We sleep like this all the time".
"After we fuck".
"So let's fuck".
You fall back on your pillow and brush through your hair.
"Fine, Jesus", he closes up, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Yoongi does this very well, removes himself, it's not worth it. It's not worth being straightforward, and because he doesn't push, doesn't try to speak to you, you understand his touch, in fact, didn't mean anything. You're one of those soft, warm breathing pillows that help the sleeping. He simply turns around on the other side and purrs like he always does when relaxing his whole body. He doesn't snore and is quite proud of it.
In the morning things are back to normal. It was a slight glitch; in the dark, you can both bury it and pretend nothing happened. Yoongi is allergic to being direct with you, it's all subtle. You see he avoids brushing hands by accident as he takes your bag and pushes it in the trunk; then by the time you make it to the airport, and you go first, he is casual and light again, happy to go home. He gives you one concerned look then says nothing, pushing the mask up his face even though he stays in the car. You go fifteen minutes before him and pass through the waiting crowd, invisible, efficient, led by the security guy in flip-flops.
Mr Lee enters the plane first, and he motions to you, looking you in the eye with a kind smile:
"Take that seat, by the window".
Yoongi follows him and nods at the double seats as well and you understand he wants to make the flight a little better for you. So you plunge in the wide seat at the window, looking outside at the greyish Berlin sky, unassuming white keeping your night trick hidden away. Yoongi sits down next to you, quite ready to fence if you start acting up again, but you don't. The fear of death is much stronger now. Jimin arrives unexpectedly because you have completely forgotten he flies back with you: he lights up the space, happier than yesterday, ruffles his raspberry-lilac hair and eases the tension. Yoongi's gaze clicks onto him and you are grateful for that. You can suffer in silence and alone. Jimin notices how wide your eyes are, and how you clutch onto Yoongi's hand that reaches out as the plane starts moving. The rain makes it worse: you look at the trees bending in the distance, thinking about how a wind like this can knock a vehicle off the course easily.
"You're scared of flying?"
He also asks this because seeing Yoongi hold someone's hand - a girl's hand - is remarkably unusual for him. He studies this clutch of interlocked fingers with curiousity, like it's an animal he thought was extinct.
"That's to put it lightly", you coo back. The plane gains speed, and you are pressed against the back of your seat. Primal horror snatches your breath.
"You know planes crash very rarely? This one definitely isn't going to. Carrying South Korea's most important producer".
His rambling doesn't help. On the opposite, it exposes how naive Jimin's thinking is. You apprecite the movement of his plump, smiling lips, trying to distract you, but he only makes it worse. The plane doesn't care who it carries; if it crashes, it crashes, killing everyone.
"The only dangerous times of the flight are the take off and the landing", he continues, thinking he is setting your mind at peace. You are well aware of that. And for now, you just so happen to be in the middle of a take off.
"Jimin", Yoongi hoots, "you're not helping".
"Sorry", he smiles sweetly, like a little shit. You chuckle at that nasty grin and look away at the window again. Luckily Yoongi's hand actually helps. If you die, you die holding the person you love. The plane dips slightly as the gear kisses the ground goodbye, and you squeeze it, begging silently. For some reason, he thinks of child labour again, wondering why he gets this specific association. The grip is so strong it hurts his hand, and he gives in to the pain, takes it, without realizing what it means.
The sex changes slightly, and it's a sign you're doing worse. You can't help it when he is close to you, with the body you have come to know well and love a lot, you start shoving your face close to his to catch his breathing, and Yoongi seems to enjoy that, feeding into your delusion. He is a needy, universal lover, always down for some tenderness, who likes to be handled with care. Always a giver, a helper in everyday life, he replenishes the affection from you by being caressed and held tightly, without asking. Only, it hurts you when he does this - allows you to pull him closer, share a kiss that's too gentle as you come undone, because for several seconds it feels like you love each other. But it's a position that he comes to like a lot: you on his lap, faces pressed together as he hunches his back a little to be on the same eye level, to then fall on the side like in water, clutching to each other.
"We okay?" he asks out of nowhere. You look at his soft profile. His upper lip trembling a little, the lower part of his stomach contracting. You push his thigh with your knee.
"Yes? Why wouldn't we be?"
He nods like he is getting ready to jump into a well full of sharks, or go on stage. Closing his eyes for a second, then heaves himself off the bed, like he usually does. He doesn't like to linger, sensory overload of your sweaty body pressed against his. He takes a quick shower and then leaves tidying after himself, ready to work. He never has you at his place like it's too sacred, or like he has some secrets there. It's always hotels or your apartment, a car, a locked office with no windows. He says something about his home being too far away, and how inconvenient it is. He knows it's bullshit, and you know it too. You live in the same neighbourhood.
Jimin keeps smiling and it suddenly pisses him off. Yoongi folds a napkin and attempts to make a swan out of it, but all that comes out is a plane. He taps Jimin on the shoulder and hands him his little present.
Jungkook's eyes widen at the sight of it.
"And for me? Me, hyung?"
Yoongi rolls his eyes, catching a stare from Taehyung, too.
"Is it his birthday?" the second youngest demands.
"It's not Jimin's birthday", Jungkook confirms.
"What's that for?" Jimin asks, quite pleased.
He wants to jab him playfully, so naturally, it's a bribe: stop staring at my girl. It baffles him. His guts drop. Like when he realizes two meetings clash on his schedule. In that case, after a second of panic, he takes a deep breath and calls his manager. Now, he can't call his manager and say, hey, there's an inconvenience. I don't like the way Jimin can't seem to shut up about Y/N after she touched his leg and smiled at him in Berlin. This glitch is all his. And he closes up. Feelings, undeveloped, tend to die on their own. Whether he needs them is out of question: he doesn't. He's been doing that naturally; of course he'd developed an innocent crush on someone he has sex regularly with. Without it, he wouldn't be able to do that properly. He's a feeling, inspired human, artistic: he can't do it without trust. That's how his head works at least. This kind of light infatuation adds to the sex, it makes it truly relaxing and non-stressful without needing to act on it. Of course he feels something. It's a kind of a driving force in his work, as well.
The real problem arises when there's someone else in the equation.
Namjoon is focused like a hawk as you fight for your life. You hate losing; perhaps something from childhood when your cousin constantly beat you and then gloated about it; there was a saying in your family, as a game was over, if you can't work your brains, work your hands. The loser shuffled the deck back in order. You hated being the loser. But against Namjoon it is impossible. He beats you every time, although thankfully, he isn't an asshole about it. But allowing himself to throw hands in the air victoriously. You smile about it, press your jaws together, crunch your nose to laugh it off.
You rarely play cards at all, maybe only in the breaks like these, while the laptop is working and you have to wait; and the foyer is realtively empty, and the disposition is relaxed. You have a coffee at your side on the low table, and the faint music creates a comfortable bubble to lose to your friends at a game of cards. You strike the table with the rest of yours, and Namjoon smiles with dimples, pacifying you.
Yoongi takes his place.
"Rematch".
He is surprisingly bad at it. To the point where his friend is at his side, pushing him with his thigh, so that Yoongi has to scoot over on the small couch to let the giant sit next to him.
"Yoongi hyung, but there's a..."
"Shh. I have a strategy".
You observe his eyes above the cards as he glances at you. The feral looks you give to each other are fun. Namjoon hums something when Yoongi has to scoop the cards and take them to himself, losing more and more.
"The strategy sucks", he muses.
"I know what I'm doing".
It makes you concerned but you beat him in the end with a little bit of wit, and at least it's not too humiliating. Namjoon gives him a look, then turns away, and there are dimples again. The banana palm on your side throws a shade on the table as the sun moves across the sky outside. You look at them both as your nostrils grow in size.
"Oh you let me win, didn't you?"
You lean over the table to get to him and see the cards, but Yoongi moves away, then takes the deck and starts mixing.
"I wish. Maybe I'm just bad at it".
Namjoon stands up with a swing, still with that shit-eating grin on his transparent face. Thing about him, he's not good at three things: acting, keeping secrets and lying. His eyebrows give him away every time.
For you, it's like living. The feeling of love is a familiar thing to you, especially with him. He is a warm, unique human and as long as you meet from time to time, it's only half-way bad. You have things to distract you from it, and you postpone doing something about it, like breaking this arrangement. Maybe next month. Maybe next month again.
For Yoongi, it's like falling. Like his house of cards crashing down. Carefully curated existence spinning out of control. Control is very important to him: he likes to have control over his personal affairs. He likes to know what he is doing every minute of the day. He doesn't have obsessions; doesn't have urges that control him instead. Even though he is a feeling human, he isn't a victim to his desires. Now all of a sudden the peace is tilted, and he snaps. It's like a foot catching air instead of a step. He simply doesn't have time for this, it makes no sense. Feeling in love seems to him like someone demanding giving up his work and his freedom, and he will never do that. It actually makes him aggressive, feels like invasion of his space, and he doesn't like that. How dare you clutch the shirt on his chest in your fist, making those eyes he knows he isn't able to resist, saying "let's ruin it?" Will you buy him a new one? How dare you groan at your computer in a way that makes him so hard that he hits his dick on the desk, trying to stand up? How dare you have that laugh that sounds like gripping his hand, giving birht to his babies?
Love is a thing idols cannot afford. It's nonsense for others. He, he has a goal. A point to his existence, he has something to say and something to prove. It's below him to settle like the peak of his life has been reached, and all his ambition satisfied. Far from it. He gets angry with himself when he lets you beat him in a card game because he doesn't understand himself where the impulse came from. It's not that deep.
He breaks it off. Says he doesn't have time anymore. He memorizes your eyes when you size him up and say,
"I figured".
Although there was no indication before, because you were "okay". He lets it slide, the way you let go of him too easily, without questioning it, almost with a sense of relief. He tells himself it's not his burden anymore, and it should clear his head and lighten the load. After all, the affairs like these are often doomed from the start. One of you might fall in love, or meet someone else, or just grow tired. It's not supposed to be for life. He goes back inside his mind and assesses things left after you: memory of your elbow, twice smaller than his; hairs on his hoodie; the feeling of mountains; a new type of coffee: milk, cinnamon and star anise. He's sure there's more, but the feeling of frustration, like he was about to sneeze and never did, floods him and blocks his brains from thinking.
There's also mint. He remembers it when Jimin comes in one day smelling like it. Yoongi gives him a long look as his shoulders go cold.
He also gets dreams. They aren't exactly dreams - rather, the lingering visions in his eyelids when on the brink of falling asleep. Pleasant pictures of something he regrets losing; if only there was a way to keep his emotions out of it, he'd watch your stomach contract under his hand forever. Gentle, careful knot of your belly button. The muscles in your sides flexing, soft birthmarks scattered on the skin, the tasty curve of your hip. He dreams again about that one evening when he paid a visit, but was in such a good mood that you ended up cuddling; he couldn't get enough of the sight of your ass in the underwear, squeezing, while you watched funny videos on his phone, and you laughed, thunderously, into his poor ear, snorted with laughter, your body shaking, until he suddenly started noticing the scent of your hair, too.
That's the adult way out: everybody has feelings. The choice is whether to act on them or not; you think, your feelings are only your business and nobody else's. If Yoongi asked, and you feel that at some point he was close to that, you'd tell him to fuck off and mind his affairs. You get to keep what you have inside your head.
Now, as he enters the studio with the hood on, you feel perfectly balanced and calm. Love hasn't hurt you as much as this man; he takes off the hood and you nod to the booth, and he casually follows your instructions. You step after him and hand him a sheet of paper. He's been to a facial recently, you can tell. His nose pores are clear and he's glowing, giving him a slightly pouty look. Smells like star anise. Imagining hugging him in his car as it's raining outside, hiding your face in his clean hoodie, his hair obedient under your palm, is so simple you could draw a picture if you had any talent for it.
"Read from here when you see the green light".
"I know how recording works", he chuckles, a little shy. You smile back and brush him off. He picks on the skin on his thumb and you shake his hands apart out of the habit you haven't smothered yet. However, he complies and puts them in the pockets, looking at the paper. You leave the booth and go to the laptop where you get ready.
"In Japan, women are considered superior divers", he begins reading, his voice unfiltered by his acting. Yoongi has many voices, you've heard most of them you think. The favourite of yours is the purring request he used to send straight into your ear canal, pressing his lips against the side of your head: turn to me, I want to see your face. His speaking voice betrays his origin, and you specifically asked that he drops the Seoul accent when recording. So it's authentic Min Suga, hands in pockets, hair on his eyes, head slightly moving with his own rhythm he weaves easily.
"...due to distribution of fat in their bodies and ability to hold their breaths underwater. Pearl fetching was a dangerous business and required light, swift, nimble women who could at the same time withstand the harsh underwater conditions. Very often they would swim up all blue, but pearls tucked neatly in the pouches on their waists. Gifts of the sea have never been easy to retrieve".
He is done in fifteen minutes, reading overall two pages of text. You can see he's not worried and stressed. Probably sleeps well; he unzips his hoodie and takes it off because it's a bit hot in the studio - you get cold sooner and easier than other people. As he pulls it off himself, the shoulder tugs on the hem of his T-shirt and exposes a bit of his skin, and you see a dark-blue bruise.
"Tsk".
He leaves the booth, turning his head like a mill, a little distracted.
"What?"
"That's such an asshole move".
When there's nothing to lose, as you've lost him already, you actually feel more liberated to speak your mind exactly as it feels. Yoongi is a bit lost, looking at you.
"Huh?"
"So big, as well. You told me you have no time for that business anymore?"
You actually pout, feeling shockingly indifferent. Your feelings have been, so to say, stomped upon, dull under all the cruelty.
His hand reaches for his shoulder as fingers send the impulse back into the brain, and he stretches,
"That- I'm a big boy, alright?"
You cock your eyebrow shortly.
"Could've just said you don't like me personally", you download the file containing his voice and begin renaming it according to the protocol.
"That's not it", he even puts the hoodie back on. "On the opposite, it was getting too personal".
"I agree. I am just surprised you found someone else so soon, that's all", you mutter, your eyes on your work. He hums. Retreats, it's what he does best. Slithers quietly through the door after making sure he is done here.
You tell him he is, hissing the words with a stretch, giving them double meaning.
Yoongi leaves, hands pulling on the sides of his zip-up hoodie, up and down, up and down, thinking about the idiocy of it. He's finished filming a Run BTS episode yesterday, where punishment was cupping. He's lucky he only lost once. Taehyung was roaring with pleasure as he vaccumed the fuck out of his shoulder. What would you say if you saw the back of Namjoon, who lost five times?
Yoongi believes in karma and all that shit. Especially when he's drunk; he keeps thinking about that little misunderstanding and how your cheeks pouted as you stared into the laptop, accusing him of getting hickeys a week after he ended the arrangement. He's not feeling guilty or anything, but it's unnatural for him to not keep things straight. Although with you, he thinks, there's already so much shit tangled that he could as well just leave it be. First of all, never talked out that weird rejected hug incident; then again the breakup itself, like walking on the straight road and sudeenly falling into a manhole. He's not in the habit of leaving things piled up, but he just can't seem to learn to be direct with you. It's bad enough you make him horny like he is going through puberty again, you also tie his tongue down. He preferred to keep it deep inside of you to avoid talking at all. After all, that was the deal.
When he starts getting drunk at the Another Billion party, this awkwardness returns to him and he gathers all his might and good will to search you out and tell you what the bruise was about. He is ready to drag the other members with him so that they vouch for it; he finds he doesn't need to do so, because Namjoon and Jimin, of course, are already glued to you. Next to an ugly black-glass sculpture supposed to represent an idol throwing their arms up. Namjoon is swaying, he can't take his alcohol. Jimin is sturdier than him, but is also red in the neck; both listening to you with their mouths slightly ajar. When you talk, people around always listen, and Yoongi hates that, too. That this ability of yours, together with your body, your deafening screeching laughter, your iron grip, your moans, your fears, the mint of your lips, don't belong to him. He doesn't want any of it - but it sucks that other people get to experience it, too. He almost goes blind for a second, slapping his glasses back to his face, as the idea of Jimin knowing what the chapstick tastes like, crosses his mind.
"...that I was a huge black dragon. This is the best dream I've ever had in my life", you enunciate, making sure they are listening to you. Both Joon and Jiminie are so out of it, it makes you shake with the laughter you push down for the sake of the story.
"I was big, I felt big, I remember the feeling of absolute freedom" (Namjoon has exactly one hiccup) "as I was flying above the Aegean sea during black storm. Black dragon, black storm, the waves were gigantic".
"How did you know it was Aegean sea?" Jimin asks.
"I had this dream when I was staying in Greece. It's also my favourite sea".
"Yoongi really likes mountains", Namjoon mutters. You stare at him for a second.
"Okay?"
"Continue".
"And I was flying around, laughing out of happiness, I was so elated I actually laughed, and I was throwing these black pearls into the sea..."
"Sea and mountains", Namjoon continues, funnily, "nuah?"
"Are you sure it wasn't Black sea?" Jimin tries to ignore his hyung, putting his hand on Namjoon's chest as the leader starts to tilt forward.
"I mean you were black, storm was black, the pearls were black..."
You purse your lips because he makes a good point. In between their heads, you see Yoongi adjust his glasses and glaring at you three like you are dismembering a freshly caught deer with your bare hands.
"What's up with the nerd slut?" you nod at him, and the two turn around. The blood rushes back from Jimin's neck as his face lights up in a smile. His imperfect teeth make his smile infectious.
"Yoongi-ah", he coos softly as the cloud approaches.
"I need to talk to you", you can hear he's had a two or six, or sixteen. Yoongi is way too good at drinking, he can take a lot of it and then be drunk for a lot of time, hiding it, and only burst if someone really pushes him. His eyes are glossy behind the lenses of his glasses.
"You tired?" Namjoon becomes perceptive when he drinks. Yoongi nods and extends his hand on the waist level. You do not take it but follow him as he nods in the direction of a quieter corridor. Big hall is booming with music and it irritates you both; everybody reacts differently to alcohol: Taehyung is throwing his ass around on the dancefloor for example. It's his celebration and he is allowed. You, you get more yourself you'd say. All your impulses become sharper. Your loudness becomes louder and quieteness, quieter. Your insecurities shine, but so does your wit. Your laughter becomes irresistible, Yoongi would say, but you never asked him to know about it. His laughter is always irresistible to you, just like his word. So, even though you are sore, hate him a little, feel like aching next to him, insanely jealous, when he calls, you walk with him out of the room, plunging into the lukewarm shade of the corridor.
You sneak away like two schoolchildren trying to act tough. We need to talk. Sounds like giggling to you, and you do. His thick neck turns to you. He's been working out again lately. Of course.
"I need to make something very clear", he begins, harder than you expected him to, and your spine shivers, at the same time with your knees wobbling. You don't know if you're intimidated or upset. You must unintentionally give him a rabbit look, because he stops abruptly, looking you in the face.
"The... that? I was cranky, okay? It was one time".
You struggle to catch what he means exactly, having a moment of complete lack of clarity. All you see is his full lips letting a breath out.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what, why have you been punishing me for that this whole time?"
Your brows go up, brain struggling, because you just keep thinking about that hickey on his shoulder. And it makes you angry that he's irritated, and agitated after drinking. You can bet you have way more beef with him than he with you.
"Big deal, I brushed you off once, you need to get over your pride some time. Like it's cracking me that that's what you've been hung up on. Becasue I told you to back off, you've been refusing to hug me for six months?"
You bang the back of your head on the window glass as you throw it up. The last thing you need right now is lectures and complaints, but it's refreshing that Yoongi would speak in such long sentences.
"You replaced me already", you hum, like it's an unbeatable argument that is made of gold.
You hope he shuts up and decides to douse the tension in one last hookup. You're down for it. Arguments are tiresome and feel unnatural with him, the guy who prefers to tuck everything in and walk away before it spills out. You realize he isn't actually talking anymore, but his eyes are studying the window behind you as if he's considering breaking it.
"And you replaced me?"
It sounds like a half question, like he's not sure. The intonation going up. Suddenly you think of whales and their gentle, lonely calls, but also, about the wind, whistling in between the crooked branches. The 'fuck it' is announced without being uttered, as your hands reach in the half-dark for his pants. He isn't wearing a belt so your fingers crush into the hem of the jeans and go straight to the button. Yoongi's palm covers them, squeezes your fingers almost with rage, stopping you roughly, but he steps closer, and the last thing you see is the frame of his glasses. He kisses you, at the same time as you kiss him, mumbling something about the last time, just to be sure, your mouth opens simultaneously with your legs. Yoongi's hand slides off yours and grabs your side aggressively, hungrily; a month was the longest you'd gone on without jumping each other's bones, so it's not the withdrawal. It's something else. You tug on his jeans, unsure to unbutton them because you've read his gesture clearly. There's people behind the door. He lifts you up with one arm and sits you on the window sill and your arm snakes around him, touching the back, fingers clinging to every inch of his thick, white, moving body. Kisses slurp in bites, his tongue makes you dizzy. He has never kissed you like that before; not when he was needy, not when he was very horny, not when he was vulnerable which didn't happen often. Guess it's one of the bright colours of making out with a human; they surprise you. The love rises from the depths of your guts, making its painful way up, and you bend and lean against him, trying to feel his body pressed to yours. Yoongi's hand clutches on the top you're wearing like he's trying to tear it off you.
"Do they know it was once covered all over in my cum?" he grunts against your cheek, and your spine shakes like he's done a spell on it. Tiny shivers under his fingers. You grab his neck.
"I don't casually go around telling that to people".
His warm, hard hand sneaks under the fabric, fingers count the ribs, then pinch them, and his mouth slides lower, across your cheek and to your throat. You wish you could stay there forever. The blue and green in your inner mind, darkness around, and Yoongi clinging on you like he's turning during the full moon. You hear his glasses click against the plastic as he takes them off, then his hand returns to the small of your back and presses. He smells so familiar already that it feels like it's going to be your doom; you know all his scents, you're afraid. Eros by Versace, white vanilla detergent on his clothes, blueberry chewing gum, the leather of his car, cloudberry conditioner in his hair, and the skin smell, the clean smell that he has, the perfume no one can replicate and you can't explain. Unfortunately you love all of them, really love in the most genuine way, and it makes you sob all of a sudden, but you mask it as a moan. Yoongi hisses, letting go of your neck, and his hand makes its way up to cover your mouth. In the dark you see his eyes as he kisses the back of his palm. Can he even love you the way you have come to love him. Is he capable of that, with his fixation on his work. Constantly caught up in thinking about how to round up the beat, and how a bridge will come out, his head poking out above the chair, is he even capable of loving someone. He pulls you, your legs made of wool, deeper, looking for an empty room with a lock, and, preferably, optionally, without a cctv hidden somewhere in the foot of a desk.
You barely pay attention to the room; the dark eats away at it. You two, connected at the mouths, hands on each other's ribs, in each other's hair, stumble backwards, like a limping monster, trying to find a place to land. The space around spins; there's nothing but Yoongi, and if he pulled you after himself into a chasm, you'd only clutch his hand tightly. He kicks something behind you, and your calves feel the soft of a couch, and it's the signal to turn. Yoongi crashes onto it, making the vision you've had a fraction of a second ago, reality: you fall, fall into the darkness, guided by his well-studied hands, tracing the veins on the backs of his big palms, a little dry. The shape of them holding you tightly is something you want your mind, drunk or sober, to never forget. You might not have him after this, tomorrow, but now you land on his lap, knees spread, his hand on your back under the crop top, scratching lightly with his short-cut nails. His fingertips are the best - slightly rough from guitar, but sensitive; Yoongi has memorized all the spots on your body, dividing it into "yes-no-maybe" zones for scratching. He knows the "yes-yes" zone just around your spine, it makes you arch your back as you grind your hips against him. You like him for not being too chatty during moments like these; his breathing lets you know. The hardening of his cock is obvious through two pairs of jeans. Falling apart, you think about the mess of it all: you don't have any spare clothes, no extra underwear, and this one is already no good, soaked through. Your hands grab the back of his head again and hold on for dear life as Yoongi guides your hips against his, forehead pressed to your collarbone, your gentle mid-sized giant with dry, soft hair and prominent neck muscles. His shoulders, lean, strong, work under your hands, wet mouth grabbing at your breast through the top. He can't see shit without his glasses or lenses, and especially so in the relative dark, where the only light comes through the windows from the nearby buildings; so sensory study is all that's left to him. When Yoongi is ready to undress, he usually produces a sort of a tired sigh-groan, and then his fingers start pinching at your flesh. But now he doesn't. The alcohol is spinning your head, the heat in your core pooling, and you sort of forget where what is. The only thing that matters is to find his puffy lips again, bearing the taste of mint and whiskey. You raise yourself to deepen the kiss, and Yoongi pushes you back hard, lifting his own hips to connect. The breath is caught somewhere in the ribs, shiver crunching the body, but his hand steadies you in comforting strokes. You are trying to breathe, you really do, but it comes out in gushes, sometimes audibly, as your fingers trace his beautiful face. Yoongi is so good at making you come undone; you barely control your own body, he becomes the puppeteer at the thunderous wave of your feeling. The arousal at this point is animalistic, coming up to your throat, making you mumble. Not talk - talking is banned in between you, but the unconnected shreds of words dripping off your lips, that he catches with his teeth, are okay.
"I want you".
"No, I want you more".
You feel his shoulder flex as he lifts your hips, depriving you of the pressure of his groin, and you immediately whine.
"Oh no, I spoiled you", he whispers, Daegu words blurring with each other, his voice a soft purr. He turns you, pushing on the stomach, and you lie down, and his hands start working immediately, mouth at its favourite activitiy: tracing the lines of your shuddering stomach. Yoongi undoes the jeans and pulls them down together with the underwear. His fingers plunge immediately into you, without a warning, and you produce a silent shriek. Hands searching for him, nails digging into the massive of his shoulders. Yoongi likes the way his own words sounded: I spoiled you. Likes the absolute mess that you are, squirming at his touch, he feels appreciated, wanted, needed. He never managed to make anyone like this before; he has made a quiet unspoken promise long time ago to never tell anyone about it. About how you seem to lose your sentience when his lips are below the solar plexus. He is in love with this sensation. He wants to keep it going, but can't; he can't think; he pulls down his jeans because he wants to fuck you senseless, fuck you into amnesia, and himself; so that tomorrow the things are easier and clearer; you're a blurry silhouette for him, moving against the sea of darkness, the buoy he's swimming towards, and the tighter you cling onto him, the better. He feels cradled, he feels loved. It feels hot inside of you, incredibly tight, you always wrap your legs around his waist like a monkey, trying to push him deeper even when it starts hurting the hips. The best thing - you both cannot come easily because you're drunk, so it just goes on and on, the swimming, the touching, your sounds blooming like flowers on fruit trees. He thinks of sampling them, putting them within the underbeat, masking them, but using them; he has been trying to figure out the beat that would describe the way he feels with you: sharp hip bone in his hand, the heel of your foot on his leg, the tasty chemical of your peach fragrance that he licked clean off your throat. It's the frustration of never finding the right melody, because making music requires love, and he is too busy to allow it to himself, so he just fucks like there's no tomorrow, apologizing through his embrace, dripping feelings off the tips of his hair.
A whole month away is good. For Yoongi. He gets to travel across all Asia and do some hiking, turn his phone off and just be completely alone. Not to think, he doesn't want to think, he wants to have his brains blank and just see pines, and the slope of the mountain, the birds soaring above, and the flowers fluttering in the wind. But the thoughts come by themselves; he realizes it's a trap that he had set for himself. Because mountains remind him of you, and he finally starts understanding what exactly makes the connection. It's the feeling of freedom, good loneliness and realness that they provide.
Relationships are promises, ruined plans, unplanned arguments, ridiculous commitments and distractions. Yoongi knows himself very well: he is not a multitasking person, and when he is in love, which thankfully doesn't happen often, he is beside himself with the feeling, and it affects work. Sometimes positively, sometimes negatively. It's been so comfortable, so well-organized - living in his independence bubble - that he is pushing the ghost away, because the ghost is whispering scary things to him. Coffee dates; he imagines sitting with you in a place in Yongsan-gu and watching your face and your beaded necklace not matching your band tee. He imagines you in his hoodies; you have stolen none of them, you always abstained from going through his things, touching him too much, and now he realizes it was because he had pushed you away that one time. He imagines you'll be trouble, headache, high maintenance. If you had been sore, had held on that grudge for almost a year, over a thing he had almost forgotten. He imagines these fights will make him feel so alive. You riding in his car, on your phone; cooking; lying in bed with one knee across his belly - all those things have already happened, but from sensual they are now turning warm. Yoongi understands he is losing, he is already taking this weight upon himself, little by little, because in the mountains he refuses to wear his earbuds and listen to music, and the silence is the ghost that follows him around, hammering the truth he's been avoiding into his brain. He imagines your hand gripping his palm, so hard that he yelps in pain, as you turn your face away, and the line of your jaw exposes the little birthmark you have on your neck. He's been kissing that birthmark in secret for months, pleased that you will never guess why he's choosing that very spot specifically.
You brew a coffee. Every time you're bored, the recipes become more and more complex, you keep adding ingredients until the coffee either sends you to heaven or is undrinkable. By now, there's cinnamon, star anise, almond syrup, and now... you're eyeing mint like it's about to jump you. Yolo, you think, and add a little mint, and it's still a success. You're becoming a coffee extraordinaire, you think; even if no one else appreciates your inventive mixing skills.
Jimin is there, of course; cruising around you like an albatross, appreciating every little thing about you. But his presence is breezy, light: he is a natural flirt and it doesn't set off any of your alarms. It seems he simply likes being around you. You see glasses case that he puts in another hand as he takes the coffee from you.
"Never seen you wearing glasses for real?" you're surprised.
"These are not for me, I picked them up from the store for hyung. He doesn't leave his little evil studio these days, got back to the 7AM schedule".
He shrugs. 7AM schedule with Yoongi means he works all night and goes to sleep at 7AM for about three hours, then gets up and goes back to working.
"He never found his glasses?"
"No".
"Somebody must have stolen them", you muse, recalling how they were left lying on the window sill.
"It's weird, normally he only loses things if they cost more than a thousand bucks", he snickers. You're expecting a feedback. Jimin's tastebuds have proven to be professionally sensitive: he is picky with food and always gives an honest opinion of the coffee. He frowns first, his huge eyes focused on the cup, full lips moving like he's chewing. Jimin is charismatic while doing nothing, and he definitely wouldn't have a problem with you, so you wonder why you can't just unlove Yoongi and fall for him instead. Or better, for nobody at all. Even in his brother's face, you're searching for his familiar features, but there aren't any. Jimin looks like a genie who will grant your wishes in the most perverted way so that you'll feel sorry after.
"It's... good?" he is, himself, shocked. "It makes me want to go to Morocco".
"That's an unorthodox review".
"You should get a patent. Name it Faux Morocco Latte and you'll be rich".
"I already have a rich inner world".
He chuckles ironically at that, keeping the cup close to his lips. His phone rings.
"Oh, there he is. I think he needs his glasses", Jimin ignores the call from Yoongi, putting his phone on the desk. "Let him wait a little, right?"
He pats you lightly on the shoulder, like he is siding with you on something. Like that one friend who is ready to smother your ex with her bare hands without needing to know the details. You are slightly bothered by it.
Yoongi lifts his arm and puts his hand into his hair, his eyes fixated on a spot on the desk. The underside of his shoulder is tense, he freezes in this position, thinking, and you can't avoid looking at him even though your eyes move. Your spot is never next to him, it's always a little away, in the back, not at the table. You do not see it as derogatory: without your work, they can't do it, and the hierarchy is there for a reason. When idols are present during the meetings with usual staff like you, everybody feels sorry for them. There go the scapegoats, the puppets, the clowns. Everybody is nice to them because they all have two features: beauty and lack of autono-
"I don't give a shit", Yoongi says calmly.
You doodle in your pad; these meetings are a must, and most often not a word is spoken about your area of work, so you just kill your time looking at Yoongi; at least something. Now everybody is looking at him.
The manager raises his eyebrows. He looks tired all the time.
"Sorry?"
Yoongi leaves his hair alone and places his hand on the desk, wrist caught in a hair tie.
"I said I don't give a shit about the deadline".
Namjoon purses his lips producing dimples. His silence indicates that he agrees with Yoongi. One by one, Bangtan Boys usually stand behind each other, but it always takes a first brave mouth to say something outrageous. Taehyung is rubbing his lower lip absent-mindedly. Yoongi's eyes are puffy, he gives the manager an unaffected shark-like stare that masters openness and simultaneously, stubbornness of a rock.
"It's there for a reason".
"We had discussed the update, and Taehyung hasn't slept in three days".
Taehyung doesn't even hear him.
"What about you?" manager asks softly, trying to lead Yoongi away from his deadly determination.
"I'm working. I'm fine".
His eyes start searching the room, landing everywhere except you. You cross your legs and go back to your pad.
"A week is fine", Namjoon adds, to defuse the tension. After a little back and forth the manager gives up. He always does; he's not the real boss here. Everybody gets up, the important people first: manager leaves the room pacing, hurrying to implement the schedule corrections, J-Hope leaves darker than a storm cloud, which is unusual for him; you gather your things from the floor: you're in a habit of just putting your bag and phone next to the chair since you're sitting at the glass wall. The line at the door gradually disperses and you walk to exit the meeting room but Yoongi turns his head, still sitting, and looks straight at you with a completely different stare. He doesn't say anything, so you just look at him and move on, but Taehyung closes the door in front of you like he didn't notice, and walks away. You see his back through the grey-transparent glass.
"Y/N", Yoongi sounds tired, more tired than he did a minute ago. His back hunched, he is softer, more undone.
"Huh, CEO?"
In spite of himself, he gives out a smile, and his teeth scrape over his lower lip, which makes you wince.
"What do you want?" you say quickly, colder, trying to wrap yourself up, zip up, close up. His hand reaches out but you're too far away, ready at the door, wondering what kind of games he is playing. The fatigue is obvious on his face but thankfully it's not your burden anymore. It does pull on your strings though, so in an attempt to keep up the strength, you frown.
"You win", he says. His words are round, it's the best shape. "I lose".
He stands up, and you want to roll your eyes, not with annoyance, but with an overwhelming feeling of unwillingness. The labour of trying to get over him is draining you like there's a huge gash somewhere that's dripping blood. Every time he is in close vicinity of you, the stream becomes only bigger, it's mentally tiring. Fighting feelings is exhausting. Yoongi is reaching for you, his face an impression of quiet need, and you try to avert his arm, a crusty cut on his elbow, gently. He goes for a timid hug with one hand and you grow stiff, putting up your shoulder. You end up straining your neck, chin up while Yoongi performs the softest forced hug. He needs to press his forehead into you, because he hasn't eaten in twelve hours, and he is so frustrated and a little terrified, and you are the smell of home.
The man of few words. His actions speak much louder.
What's even louder is the music that's on the USB he shoves into your hand. You listen to it at home, sitting away from the laptop like it can see your embarrassed face going through motions. The beats are clean, the rawest you've heard. Yoongi has his own way of polishing music that always makes it crisp like the air in January. They have no words, because it's Yoongi. But the beats, the melodies, talk to you. They sound like the night you met, when you caught rain on your hand to soothe it. Sound like his voice filling the space of his car, and like the hiss of the coffee machine, like the shuffling of your sheets, and like the streets, muffled by the windows, hooting outside. His melodies sound like the wind and the voices of pine trees, their ancient blood singing inside the hard bark. Sound like the sea. The music he has written and named after you sounds like he is diving for pearls and swimming up, panting, like he has given up to something. It's the crack of your hip getting back into place, and the click of his phone, the purr he produces when falling asleep. It's his flowers. The dark circles under his eyes mean he has gotten over the block, and two days after giving the USB to you he calls, and there's an audible strain in his voice, because he is learning to speak:
"I can't give you all those things that are normal, you know".
"Like what?" you are spiteful, although you understand his regret. He doesn't even go grocery shopping. All food is delivered to his house. Last time he got to walk around the city, he got ecstatic and wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks. He was like a child, describing the feeling of the asphalt in Gangseo-gu next to the botanic garden under his foot; you felt deeply sorry for him. Right until the point he mentioned having to borrow the jet again, because he wants to go visit a friend in America.
"Like walking home from a bar at night together, like, holding hands".
"Sounds like it's your fantasies".
"That's all I have".
You tell him you don't want to be the glaring vortex hole in his schedule, sucking in meetings, messing up sleep, putting a strain on the well-spinning parts of the mechanism. He replies it's too late for that. And for once, he actually sounds happy.
"The line where the red roofs end? That's the Osaka Bay".
"If I get a really good start", you muse, "and have like a very big umbrella, can I jump and glide all the way there?"
He thinks about it seriously. Squirms his face in the sun like a sleepy cat. His black eyes blink.
"You'll fly for around seven seconds".
His hand touches the side of your head and then slides down to your shoulder, then moving your closer, pressing you into his side. The air is so fresh that it's putting you to sleep, and the tears in your eyes, provoked by the wind, make everything around seem blurry. Like you're in a cartoon. Like it's a dream. The sea far in the distance shines in separate flashes of sunlight.
"There was no need for that", you mutter, cosying up next to him, clutching on his big arm. His neck smells like aftershave and raspberries. The curse hisses in between his teeth, fingers pinch your cheek lightly. Then go back to your shoulder and start drumming a rhythm; writing music off the closeness of you. You leave the slope of the mountain together, at the same time.
one day Iāll finally write that ridiculously elaborate fanfiction that Iāve been carefully constructing in my daydreams for months and then youāll be sorry. youāll all be sorry.
THAT FIRST SITE IS EVERY WRITERāS DREAM DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES IāVE TRIED WRITING SOMETHING AND THOUGHT GOD DAMNĀ IS THERE A SPECIFIC WORD FOR WHAT IāM USING TWO SENTENCES TO DESCRIBE AND JUST GETTING A BUNCH OF SHIT GOOGLE RESULTS
ā summary: unable to find an alternative option for your heat, youāre left at a loss. that is until youāre told about a certain app by a friend, through which you meet a blond haired alpha.Ā
ā a/n: okay never said I was an artist w that banner lmfao. Iāve been hanging on to this fic for a while rip buT I thought Iād be my usual self and randomly drop it so here you go :) hope you enjoy.
You fiddle with your fingers anxiously.Ā
Normally you were a pretty patient person, but your nerves crackle and make your stomach swim. A month ago you had been to the doctors for a check up, intending to get some more suppressants for your heats. After the regular cycle of making sure youāre healthy, your doctor - a slim beta with long dark hair and thick framed glasses - had motioned you off the exam table to sit down by her.
At first you had assumed there was something wrong with you - which, in a way was true - but she only looked down at your papers.Ā
she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from youš¤āØ
a- angst s- smut f- fluff
series
stalemate by @shina913 f s a
ā¬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."
oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a
ā¬ starting your second semester at one of South Koreaās most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that youāre forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isnāt as one sided as you thought?
little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk
ā¬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldnāt. Will Jungkook show you what youāve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it?Ā
sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk
ā¬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he canāt deny his attraction. All thatās left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...
after hours by @archivedkookie f s a
ā¬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.
Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a
ā¬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.
sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a
ā¬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?
and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a
ā¬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.
collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj
ā¬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.
till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a
ā¬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.
grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs
ā¬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmateās name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after itās all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: āwas it really worth all of this in the end?ā
isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a
ā¬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still canāt seem to understand how Yoongi can be called āThe Love Doctorā when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.
Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk
ā¬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret.Ā (poly au)
mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s
ā¬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when heās gone. It doesnāt go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.
pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a
ā¬ āYou know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?āĀ idol au infidelity
naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj
ā¬ Jin figures out that youāre super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.
babydoll by @jungcock s a
ā¬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while youāre drunk and have a lot to prove.
eleven months by @bratkook f s a
ā¬ itās been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.
pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a
ā¬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like itās constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs canāt be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after youāve already heard the song. After youāve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.
darksided by @eoieopda f s a
ā¬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.
three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs
ā¬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, itās a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseokā¦ and he does too.Ā
one-shot
bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s
ā¬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. Heāll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin? Ā
breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s
ā¬ āMin Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee,Ā is wondering who you are and why exactly youāre sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.ā
Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a
ā¬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.
threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj
Ā ā¬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.
under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a
ā¬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from itās residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?
mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj
ā¬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.
the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a
ā¬ Having known him for yearsāfrom a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on hisāyouāre one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one heās half-way decent with. But whatās more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact heās always joked heād have killed anyone else by this point, is that heās never once tried to cause you harm.Ā
angel by @sailoryooons f s
ā¬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongiās favorite. Being Min Yoongiās favorite has dire consequences
a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f
ā¬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. Heās always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}
last nite by @tayegi s a
ā¬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan
zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a
ā¬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie?Ā
heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a
ā¬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the seasonās Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.
heavy sugar by @kinktae s
ā¬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldnāt ignore theĀ dark and enigmaticĀ gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.
all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s
ā¬You havenāt seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if theyāre notā¦ where does that leave you?
calling the shots by @chans-room f
ā¬ College basketball captain Yoongi
until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a
ā¬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.Ā When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds youāve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.
whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a
ā¬ One, two, three strikes youāre out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the universityās star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that youāre wrong about college sportsāand maybe your feelings about the player himself.
shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s
ā¬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.
you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a
ā¬ ā Heās losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other.Ā ā
spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a
ā¬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.
all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a
ā¬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill ā one that you canāt pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, youāre determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.
now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a
ā¬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover thereās more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongiās life, and itās unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?
stay by sugarwithtea f s a
ā¬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.
when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f
ā¬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...
egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj
ā¬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.
on the court by @centerhaechan f
ā¬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.
sugar by @zehakoo f s
ā¬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friendās friend and the finest man youāve ever encountered.
from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a
ā¬Ā Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; itās distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he isā¦ but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.
the dark by @/bratkook s
ā¬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place youāre determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?
TriplicityĀ by @kainks ft. jhs
ā¬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.
fermata by @jeongi f s
ā¬ ferĀ·maĀ·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.
private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s
ā¬ Your little sister finds it odd how youāve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasnāt heard you actually play even onceā¦
first love by @geniuslab f s a
ā¬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.
ā¬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
dededos
vaporwave
kaledo-art
origamiaround
titsay
