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Hi, I post fanfics here. Enjoy!

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 11/11 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death, smut–more detailed warning before each chapter Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Reader Additional Tags: ghost au, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Ghost Min Yoongi | Suga, Cuddling & Snuggling, bad home life, dealing with afterlife, Cute Min Yoongi | Suga, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary:

You've been dead for 8 years now, watching over your best friend Jungkook, when a new Ghost–Min Yoongi– rudely encroaches on your territory. Though at first, it's all heated bickering, you learn that maybe he's not so bad after all. Maybe Yoongi can teach you a few things about life after death.

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My AO3

Hi guys, so I’m starting to accumulate a slight collection of fics on here and I know I don’t have a nice masterlists like most people do, so I’ll leave y’all the link to my AO3 account if you want a nicer way to look at my work. Everything I posted here is there, excluding “Break down in my arms, and I’ll put you back together”. Sorry y’all, I’m manifesting the time and motivation to create a decent masterlist in the near future but for now I hope this helps a little.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertrampreader101/works

yes, my user name is bertrampreader101 I don’t know why but it is

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Tolerate it pt.2

Hello humans! So a few people on AO3 had expressed interest in a part two to this story with a happy ending, so here it is. Happy reading :)

here’s part 1 

warnings: spicy kissing

Two years later/ The beginning of the new beginning

You sat down at your computer, eyeing your headphones hesitantly. Curiosity got the better of you, and you grabbed them and put them on. Your brother had made it known that Yoongi’s first solo album was being released today. As far as you knew, he only ever produced and wrote songs for other people. There's a weird feeling that settles over you when his voice comes through the buds in your ears. Listening to the lyrics give you a sense of deja vu, but hearing them in Yoongi’s voice made you feel like he was talking to you. You paused the song to look through the tracklist. The mouse hovered over the song titled “I’m sorry/미안해” until you gave in and clicked, and when you listened your suspicions seemed to be confirmed. There was no way he wasn’t talking about the two of you. You sat up a little straighter in your chair, starting the very first song again and listened all the way through. You took your earphones out, a shaky breath escaped you before you picked yourself up from your seat to go get a glass of water. You opened the door and gasped in shock when you were met with your brother's figure standing with his knuckles up and ready to knock on your door. “That dude is so in love with you,” he says before you get the chance to question him, inviting himself into his guest room. “What?” You mumble unconsciously, still locked in your haze. “You were listening to it,” he points at your computer screen, which is still open to the tracklist, “I should have kissed you that night in the goshiwon and made you feel my love,” your brother recites the lyrics running tirelessly through your head. “Who else could he be talking about? Pretty sure it’s not me.” He laughs, trying to lighten the heavy tension in the room. Your head lowers, and you swallow back your tears. “But you knew that already.” Your brother’s voice softens when he sees the pained expression on your face. “Look I don’t know the full story, but it’s obvious he regrets what he did.” He tells you, walking the two of you over and sitting next to you on the bed. “All I know is that Yoongi’s a good guy, who’s been through a lot. If he made a mistake, it’s because he’s human and none of us have it all figured out. If you feel like whatever he did was unforgivable then you don’t have to forgive him, but I think if you feel like maybe he deserves a second chance then you should talk to him. He misses you. I know that much.” “There’s a lot of hurt that surfaces when I think about Yoongi,” you admit. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be in the same room as him.” He nods his head at you in understanding, taking your hand in his. “I think you’re a lot stronger than you believe. I’m your brother, so even if you think I didn’t notice, I saw the way you looked at him when we were kids, how much of yourself you always gave to him. It feels wrong to let that all go,” he says. “Sometimes you have to let it go if it’s not working anymore,” you say, tasting the bittersweetness of your words. “I can’t be the only one giving a piece of myself in that relationship.” “That’s true, but remember the reason you loved him in the first place. He’s always been the one who was there for you. Maybe even more than I was,” he admits sheepishly, an uneasy look of guilt clouds his features. “That’s the way Yoongi is when he loves someone, so if you felt like he was pushing you aside know that he was going against every single one of his instincts. Sometimes we just aren't ourselves. For multiple reasons, maybe not all excusable, but just think about it.” Even when you tuck yourself into bed you couldn’t stop hearing Yoongi’s voice playing in your ear–as if your brain was stuck on reply. Your eyes flitted around the room, wondering how many times he had stayed in the bed you were sleeping in. He and your brother always stayed best buddies, so you could imagine he’d been in your spot numerous times. You remembered the nights he laid next to you when you were sad or vice versa. There was a time where neither of you ever left the other alone when they needed someone, now it's been two years since the last time you've seen him. If his smile wasn't burned so deep into your memory, if his voice didn't bury itself into the most important files of your mind, maybe you could have forgotten him.

You check the time; it’s only 11 pm. Your fingers itch, and your feet bounce restlessly. You throw the blanket off yourself and run out of the room with nothing but a jacket, keys, and your phone. You got in the car and found yourself driving the route like you hadn’t stopped going there two years ago. You park in the visitor’s lot and run into the lobby. The same man you remember still sits there at the desk, Mr. Baek. His tired eyes go wide at the sight of you, and seeing him there makes you smile. You bow to him with the same familiar greeting, as if nothing had ever changed. He tells you that you can take the elevator up, it’s ready for you. Yoongi never took you off the visitor’s list. You thank him and wish him goodnight before heading up, anxiety rising when you reach his floor. You hit the doorbell and hesitantly let yourself come into view of the camera, you smile unsure if he’s even looking, until the door swings open. He looks dumbfounded, and it takes a minute for him to speak–a skeptic whisper of your name. “Hi,” you respond awkwardly. At the sound of your voice, you see his lip quiver and tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He rushes forward to pull you into a hug. You tense up, feeling unfamiliar with his embrace. It doesn’t even feel like the Yoongi you know; his arms are stronger and his chest is firmer. He lets go and cups your cheeks. “Are you real?” He asks through a pout. You pull his hands off your face set them back to his sides. He looks like he's about to apologize, but you cut him off. “I just wanted to talk,” you tell him. He nods eagerly, stepping aside to let you in. He follows you to the couch and sits down beside you. “Congratulation on your album,” you say. It feels awkward to throw praise at him again, but you wanted to let him know that you were still proud of him, even if part of you is reluctant to. “You listened?” He states more than asks, a smile small forming on his face. “You knew I would, didn’t you?” You look at him curiously. “I’m just confused why you said all that stuff in your songs instead of just telling me.” “I knew you would listen,” he confirms, “if you still cared about what I had to say,” he adds. “But I didn’t think it was right to try and get in the way if you wanted to forget about me, if you already moved on. If you wanted nothing to do with me, I wasn’t gonna get in the way of you being happy. I put it in the music because you had the choice to listen or not. I was always better at writing songs than talking anyway.” He rubs at the back of his neck, stealing short glances at you. “I’m here, so I guess you know I still care about you,” you say, putting it out in the open. “I don’t think I deserve it,” he confesses. “I didn’t deserve a lot of the things you did for me.” He stares at the hands folded in his lap. “My brother said you deserve a second chance,” you say, looking at the side of his face. “You’ve given me a lot of chances, and I blew all of them.” You nod. “Well, yeah,” you chuckle, making him look up at you, “you did, but maybe I want to give you one last one.” His eyes look hopeful, but they’re still glossed over with unshed tears. “We can start as friends, but that means you have to stop sending those gifts to my office,” you say. “You knew that was me?” He asks embarrassed. “Who else would have or want to spend that much money to buy me fancy wine and shit? My co-workers thought I have a sugar daddy.” His face goes red. “I just wanted you to have a little something to look forward to every day. Something to make you happy, but you weren’t supposed to know it was me. I thought you'd just assume it was a secret admirer. I was supposed to be giving you space,” he says sheepishly. “If the fact that the things you sent me were things only you would know I liked wasn’t a dead giveaway, the handwriting on the notes was.” You smile at him. “Well, I guess you know how often you're on my mind.”  He shakes his head with a bitter chuckle. “I was so stupid back then. All I wanted was to keep you in my life, and I drove you away. I hurt you so much when you deserved nothing but to be loved. To get back the love you were giving and ten times more. I should have been that for you and I wasn’t, sometimes I wished you loved someone better than me. Someone who would never be capable of hurting you the way I did. When you told me you couldn’t remember what my love feels like, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wanted to throw up every time I saw myself in the mirror.” He looks back at you, seeing you listening with your head down. He couldn’t live with the sadness he caused you. “I don’t know what I did in my past life to have you sitting on my couch right now because I know I don’t deserve it in this life.” He doesn't take his eyes off of you, and you can't keep your fingers from fidgeting nervously. “All I want is for you to treat me like you did when we were still kids. I don’t want to let you go either, but I need to know you won’t hurt me again,” you whisper. “Never. I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll treat you better than when we were kids. I’ll make sure you can always feel how much you mean to me.” He looks at you with pleading eyes that beg you to believe how much he means every word he’s saying. He’d never make you an empty promise, you know that. “I believe you,” you say, making him feel like ten tons was just lifted off his shoulders. You stretch your hand out to him, “Friends?” You ask. He takes your hands and shakes. “Friends,” he repeats, smiling at you with soft longing eyes. “Yoongi,” you call out. “Hm?” He hums, still unable to keep his eyes off you. You clear your throat and cast your eyes down to the two of your hands sitting in his lap. His eyes follow yours, and he retracts his hand, flusteredly bringing it up to play with his ears. “Sorry. I know you want to start as friends, but pretending not to be devastatingly in love with you got me in trouble last time.” “You don’t have to pretend,” you chuckle, “just don’t expect me to go back to loving you the way I used.” He nods his head, hand itching to hold yours again. “I missed you so much,” he confesses. It's been too long since he's heard your voice and felt your touch. It was hard not to want to savor it.

“I missed you too, but we needed time,” you say.

“We did,” he agrees. You look down at the floor, suddenly flustered by the way he’s been looking at you. “I should get going,” you announce. “Would you hate me if I asked you to stay?” He takes his chance. You chuckle, shaking your head at him. “I wouldn’t hate you,” you smile at him, “but I’m not going to stay Yoongi. See you later,” you say, patting his shoulder and making your way to the door. “Good night,” he calls out to you. “Night,” you return, shutting the door behind you.

One year after the beginning of the new beginning

“When you told me to dress up, I didn’t think it was to stay at home,” you say, admiring him from the seat at his island. “You don’t like to go out, and you don’t like fancy restaurants. Isn’t this a win-win?” He asks from the stove. “I can’t believe you put a suit on just to cook for me in your kitchen, Min Yoongi,” you chuckle. “It seemed like a nice change of pace.” He shrugs, turning off the burners and pouring you both a glass of wine. You saw him shuffle around a bit before he set a beautiful-looking plate of food in front of you. “Wow, Chef Min,” you raise your brows at him, “when did you learn to cook like this?” His cheeks reddened at your praise, a proud smile widening across his face. “I may have picked up a few things from the internet,” he mumbles, leaving out the part where he practiced 4 times just this week before cooking it for you. You take him in for a good while. His black dress shirt opened up a few buttons since you’ve been here, the blazer that he picked you up in discarded the moment you walked through the doors, and his hair parted in a way that let his forehead peek through. This was an entirely different Yoongi than you’ve seen before. A good different: self-assured and relaxed. He’s matured over the last few years, and it looks good on him. “What?” He asks, having caught you staring at him. “You’re getting old Yoongi,” you tease, hiding a smile behind a glass of wine. It's his turn to raise a brow at you. “I’m only two years older than you,” he points out, taking a sip of his own wine and swirling the glass. “I’m still in my twenties,” you quip. He bends a bit resting his elbows on the counter, just looking at you fondly. “That dress looks good on you,” he compliments you casually. “Everything always looks good on you,” he adds taking another sip of his wine as he admires your flustered food-filled face.   “Thanks. You look nice too,” you mumble quietly through a mouth full. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “How’s the food?” He asks still watching you instead of eating himself. “Amazing,” you admit. “Don’t let yours get cold.”  You grab his plate and place it next to yours, tapping the empty stool. He takes your cue and occupies the seat next to you. He angles the stool a bit more towards your direction so he can maintain better eye contact with you. You talk animatedly about your day at work and he listens intently, wanting to soak up every detail about your life you were willing to share with him. It was nice to be able to get back into a rhythm where you were this comfortable with him. It did take a year, but he’s glad you could get here at all. There’s a stutter in your sentence when you notice the way he’s been looking at you, and you feel yourself growing weak under your normally strong reserve. You stand up and clear your throat, grabbing the empty plates off the counter. “Let me do the dishes, since you cooked,” you say. He reaches for your wrist to stop you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll put them in the dishwasher,” he tells you. “You use it?” You chuckle at him. “If you have one, why not?” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Come back and tell me more about this project you’re working on.” You smile at the ground and reclaim your seat next to him. He lets you talk some more, turning the attention back on you every time you try to get him to talk about himself. At some point, though, you successfully get him to tell you about the songs he’s been working on, his co-workers, and his life in general. You always loved the look on his face when he talked about things that interested him, which is why you gladly let him talk to you about his music all the way past midnight, using his tactic of turning the focus back on him when he tried to shift it to you. You had been so immersed in conversation you hardly remember moving to the couch. The conversation fades out, leaving you both staring at each other with the same bitter-sweet expression. You could tell he missed this just as much as you did. You check the time on your phone and sit up straight. “I should get going. Sorry, I kept you up so late,” you say, feeling extremely embarrassed. “You didn’t keep me up,” he says, hesitating on his next sentence. The same offer he’s been making and you’ve been rejecting for 12 months straight. “You can stay if you want.” His downcast gaze lingers up when he doesn't hear your swift and immediate rejection. He decides to push his luck. “It’s late and driving right now is dangerous. Lots of people could be speeding,” he says, making you chuckle at his excuses. “I don’t. . .have any clothes.” You bite your bottom lip anxiously. “You can borrow mine!” He offers immediately, face going red at the way he shouted it. He clears his throat and takes it down a couple of notches. “I can always give you whatever you need,” he says so soft and genuinely you’re convinced he’s not just talking about clothes. “Ok,” you say, watching the way his eyes light up. “Give me a second,” he says, holding a finger up in the air before he heads off to his bedroom. He comes back with PJs, a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and makeup wipes. You smile, taking the things from him with a thank you. He nods, letting you head off to get ready for bed. He smiles all the way to his own room, then to the bathroom, and in the mirror when he’s all washed up. He does a little wiggle dance of celebration before composing himself and opening the bathroom door. He sees you sitting on the couch and walks over to you, lightly resting a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You look up and smile at him. “Do you need anything?” He asks you. “No,” you shake your head, “I have everything, thank you. I just wanted to say goodnight.” His worried expression changes into a softer one. “Goodnight,” he tells you, lips rounding a bit. You couldn't deny it was cute. “Night, Yoongi,” you return, softly. You hesitate for a moment before you turn around and sit backward on your knees to face him. He looks a bit startled when you come face to face with him, and his brain almost doesn’t register what's happening when you’re wrapping your arms around him. It doesn’t last very long. He only gets time to process when you pull away and walk off towards the guest bedroom. His lips form the shape of the words back to you as his brain struggles to catch up with him, but you’re long gone already. He walks him back to the room and slides into bed.

His eyes peer out the glass wall, the lights of the city distracting him from sleep. He doesn’t want to pull down the blinds, it won’t help him sleep anyway. Not when he’s been watching restlessly for nearly 2 hours. He always sleeps on the left side of the bed, the right staying unoccupied ever since he bought it. He turns to stare at the second pillow beside him, wondering what the point of a big bed is if he’s never going to use the other half of it. Maybe it was just to fill up the empty space in his big room. He reaches a hand out to stroke the cold fabric of the pillowcase. Taking in a sharp breath, he retracts his hand, something inside him suddenly feeling as empty as his bed. Now that he had you so close, you felt even farther. His fingers itch with the recognition that you were with him but separated by walls, in another room–out of reach when all he can think about is holding you. He gets it, why you keep your distance from him. You’re only trying to make sure he’s not going to hurt you if you let him in again, and he knows that he has to be ok with that. But nothing can dull the ache of knowing you don’t feel safe in his arms anymore. He feels the dampness of his cheek, and it feels pathetic; he should be happy you even wanted to stay tonight at all. There’s hope that maybe he's been somewhat successful in making you feel his love for you, even just a little. Maybe this time he’s doing it right.

He kicks his feet restlessly, pulling his blanket into a messy tangle around his body. He sighs, seeing the time. He hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He sits up in his bed, not knowing what to do but lets his body carry him out of the bed. Maybe he can make himself some tea just so he can have something to do. He opens the door, eyes barely open, bumping straight into something. It doesn’t feel like a wall. He opens his eyes, frightening slightly at the sight of you in front of him. He calls your name like a question while you stand there looking guilty and confused. “Do you need something?” He tries again, expression softening at your sleepy-looking eyes. “I-” you start, losing your confidence immediately. He looks at you patiently, letting you have your time to speak despite your unexplained presence in front of his door at 3 am. “I was going to ask if you’re awake.” You bite your lip, looking away from him. “You were?” He asks confused. You nod your head, not doing anything more to clarify. “I was going to make some tea. Do you want some?” “Ok,” you say, following him into the kitchen. He turns the lights on to the dimmest setting to save both of your eyes from the sudden introduction of light. He shuffles around while you stand watching, hugging yourself for heat. He notices your posture, opening his phone to turn up the heater while he waits for the water to boil. “Couldn’t sleep either?” He hands you a hot mug full of delicious smelling tea that warms you up nicely. “Not really,” you admit.   “Maybe it’s something in the air tonight,” he mumbles offhandedly. Your eyes wander a bit, traveling to the glass wall overlooking the city. “I don’t think I’ve ever stayed here before. I've never seen the view this time at night. The streets are so empty,” you note, eyes glued to the outside world. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on the side of your face, but you’re too fascinated by the blend of lights. He thinks about your statement, finding it odd that though you’ve been here many times before you’ve never stayed over. It’s true. He never asked you to stay when he knew you would, and when he finally came to his sense you always declined his offer. Until tonight. “You should make it a habit,” he says, sipping his tea and letting the hot liquid course through his body. “It seems like me being here conjures insomnia,” you say finally looking at him. He sets down his cup subtly stepping closer to you as he does it. “You know when you have two magnets close enough to each other, naturally they want to stick together. When you let the attraction do its thing it’s peaceful, but trying to keep them apart takes effort and energy,” he says, his cat eyes giving you their full attention. You smile, understanding his intentions. Over the past year, you’ve gotten used to Yoongi trying to flirt with you. His brand of flirting was definitely unique, but for some reason, it never failed to work on you. He’d do it often too, letting you know exactly how he felt without ever expecting you to do anything about it.   “Since when did you start talking in metaphors?” You ask, eyes glimmering with reflections of your playful intentions. “I’m a songwriter. It’s what I do.” He mirrors your smile. “So what does that even mean?” You laugh, “Insomnia keeps us awake so we don’t have to be separated by sleep?” “Not necessarily. Sleep doesn’t have to be the problem.” He shrugs. You tilt your head, a pout forming on your lips. “So what then?” You ask. He looks you up and down, narrowing his eyes in contemplation. He runs a finger over his lips before he decides on what to say. “Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asks, ignoring your question. You frown a bit confused by his digression. “I don’t know. I guess I was restless?” You look down at the floor nervously, suddenly feeling too close to him. “What was plaguing your mind?” His tone is soft, but his eyes watch you intensely. You bite your lip anxiously, feeling like you should have more restraint but wanting to lose the filter so badly. “I wanted company,” you admit, being purposefully vague to preserve your own pride, but it's no use because you both know exactly what that means. He raises a brow at you, but the pink hue of his cheeks balances out the smugness in his face. “Mine?” He asks, a charming smile forming on his face and making his eyes sparkle again. You chuckle, accepting the fact that you could never win against Yoongi’s smile. A small nod is all you give him. “That’s interesting because I was feeling kinda lonely too,” he mumbled into his tea. “Weird,” you add, trying to keep the corners of your lips from rising. “Extremely,” he seconds. Silence sets in between the two of you as you finish your teas. Yoongi sets his cup down beside him, leaning his body against the counter. “So you want to sleep with me?” His words catch you completely off guard almost causing you to spit out your drink and choke. Panic flashes across his face and has him rushing to pat your back. You calm down and straighten yourself up. “I’m ok,” you croak out. When the panic subsides a bit of embarrassment takes over. His hand finds the back of his neck, a habit you recognize well. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.” His eyes avoid yours desperately. “It’s fine, I just. . .wasn’t expecting that.” He nods, carefully making eye contact with you again–shyly and in short intervals at a time. “What I meant is if you want to sleep in my room you don’t have to be afraid to say so because I don’t mind,” he clarifies, hoping he isn’t being too forward and pushing his luck further than he already has by asking you to spend the night. “I used to talk you to sleep when you were having trouble,” he says with a sad smile. Maybe those moments were too far in the past.

"Your bedtime stories were horrible," you chuckle.

"They worked though," he counters.

“I-” you hesitate, not knowing how you’re supposed to respond. Is there a wrong or a right? Who was going to judge that? “Maybe it could work again,” you state simply. Your words are vague, implications spilling from them. It takes him a second to register what you were trying to communicate, but when it finally clicks he nods, pushing his weight off the counter to head out of the kitchen. You follow behind quietly, reaching out to hold his wrist to keep up with him. He opens the door to his room and rushes over to fix the bed for you. When he’s satisfied he sits you down on the bed. “One second,” he says, turning around to walk away from you. You grab at his wrist again to keep him in place, making him turn to look at you with confusion written all over his face. “Where are you going?” You ask softly. “To get more sheets for the floor,” he answers, expecting you to let him go, but you don’t lose your grip. “You don’t need to,” you say. His eyes go wide for a moment, mouth opening and closing immediately. “Your bed is big enough.” He just stands there looking at you like you were speaking a different language. “You don’t–you don’t mind?” He finally speaks up. You shake your head and scoot over to the other side of the bed so he can get in with you. He nods in a manner that looks comically uncertain like he was trying to convince himself that this was really ok with you. You didn’t blame him. For a whole year, you had been very clear with your actions that you’d be keeping a strictly friendly distance from Yoongi, and now you were asking to sleep in his bed with him. It was easy to understand why he was so taken aback now, but you already chipped away at the wall you put between him and you the moment you decided to stay here. In this moment of weakness, it’s too hard to keep pretending like you don’t want to go back to how it used to be all that time ago. You want to feel that bit of normality in your relationship again. Or what used to be normal–vulnerability, support, and even love in one form or the other. You lay down on your side and rest your head on the pillow, mirroring the position Yoongi had gotten into beside you. He smiles at you with warmth and fondness, a mixture that always gave you butterflies. He reaches out to pull the blanket up more around you to make sure you’re warm, fingers moving to your head to push a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. You turn your head into his touch, and he lets his fingers linger longer than he initially planned to. He combs them through your hair in the most gentle and soothing motion, it almost has you falling asleep. “Remember when you told me that you couldn’t fall out of love with me?” The cease of the movement of his hand and his question have your eyes fluttering open. The first thing you see is his serious expression, eyes watching you closely. “Yes, I remember,” you answer after a moment. “Could you say those words right now and still believe them?” His eyes grow in intensity, studying your every expression, eager to know the truth. They soften a little when you don’t answer. “I know I can say them to you,” he breaks the silence. “I’m always going to love you, and even if you can’t reciprocate that kind of love anymore I hope you’ll still want me in your life. If you don’t want me to love you like a lover, I just hope you’ll let me love you like a friend. It’s a selfish wish to hope for you to keep me around, but I’m trying to become more deserving of it.” You can see the sincerity behind his words, face full of both determination and anxiousness. “What I said then. . .it’s always going to be true. There’s never been a time where it hasn’t been true, even if I wished it wasn’t. You’re always going to be my person, Yoongi. I know it’s been different this last year, but if I'm being honest with myself I was just pretending to have a stronger will than I really do. I didn’t want to fall back into the pattern of putting everything out there and getting hurt because I wasn’t even getting half of what I gave back,” you admit. He gives you a look of guilt and shame. “I didn’t believe you when you told me the old Yoongi was in there somewhere. The person I was dealing with then didn’t make me feel good like the Yoongi I knew always did, but I guess I had such a positive connotation attached to your face and name that I was holding onto any shred of hope that maybe everything would go back to how it was before.” You laugh shaking your head. “It was stupid to think that. Nobody ever goes back to who they were in the past. Once you move on from a certain point in your life you never go back. It’s just nature. You’re different now than when we were teenagers and you’re different from two years ago. I like who you’ve become.” He smiles shyly, unable to hold back the sense of pride he was feeling. “I’ve had some time to reflect,” he says. You hum in agreement. The hand that’s been resting dormant on your neck starts to move again, his thumb moving up to caress your cheeks. “I used to sit and think at that park with the cherry blossoms next to your place.” Your eyes widen in a bit of surprise. You didn’t even know he knew about that place; he’s never been to your place after you moved. “What were you doing there?” You didn’t really understand why he would go there. It was a long drive from his apartment and not exactly a very exciting neighborhood.   “You’re going to think I’m even more of a loser than you probably already do,” he chuckles. “I’m not,” you say, waiting for him to continue. “I drove to your house to try and apologize to you, but when I got there I realized that even if I got on my knees and begged you to forgive me I haven’t given you any reason to. I thought it would be better to give you space, so I left but I saw that park and decided that I could spend some time there before I drove back. The trees are what pulled me in. I know how much you love cherry blossoms that time of year and it made me feel like that must have been your favorite spot. It was peaceful, so I kinda just kept going back when I felt like I needed to clear my head.” “That is my favorite spot,” you admit, “It’s the reason I chose to move there.” He smiles at you sadly, eyes slowly tracing over your face. “Sometimes I used to wonder if things were different, would we be sitting on that bench together?” He says, keeping the movements of his hands gentle against your skin. He chuckles, looking at you fondly as you stared back wide-eyed. “I always thought–how could she love something so much when it was only beautiful for 2 weeks out of a year.” “They’re still beautiful even when they haven’t bloomed, just in a different way,” you tell him. He nods his head almost like he expected you to say that. “I realized that I was reflecting my insecurities on you and it ruined our relationship. When people who are supposed to love you no matter what tell you they don’t want to see you anymore it feels like something’s wrong with you. Like everyone you love is going to let you go someday. But I gave you so many reasons to say goodbye, and you stood by me until I pushed so hard even you couldn’t do it anymore. You loved me through the times I felt and acted like shit, and I should have known better than to think you’d just let go of me so easily.” You feel the tears threatening to fall, but keep them in. “Letting go of you was the hardest thing I ever did, and even then, you’ve always had a hold on me. You don’t have to worry about losing me, Yoongi. I’ll always be there for you. Just be you, the real you, and you’ll have me.” “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” “You don’t have to be sorry,” you say truthfully. He’s proven enough that he’s not going to make the same mistake twice. “Just keep being here for me.” “Always,” he whispers back, looking at you with so much affection it makes you feel giddy. He moves his hand into your hair, massaging the back of your head with light movements against your scalp. “I love you,” he says, finally letting you hear the words he’s been wanting to tell you over and over again. He breaths out something between a sigh of relief and a chuckle. “Fuck,” he says in near disbelief of the intensity of the rush of his confession. “I love you so much.” “I know,” you say with a laugh. He smiles, teeth showing and eyes forming crescents that had that sparkle you knew was just for you. Those two words sounded better to his ears than anything ever could. You could feel his love, and you could put your faith in his confession. You trusted him. “I love you,” he says again. Something inside you spins when he says it this time. His smile, something that would never lose its effect on you, and his words together had your body reacting in some strange kind of way. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He looks so happy, and the sight of his gums peeking through felt like the best kind of familiar. “You said that already,” you mumble, trying to hide how affected you were by it. “I know,” he says matter of factly, “I like saying it to you.” You frown, but it does nothing to waver his good mood. He watches you contently, and your fake displeasure quickly melts off your face. That giddy feeling of having his attention on you is back, and you find it hard to maintain eye contact now. Of course, he notices that you were undoubtedly flustered and has the audacity to smirk at you. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling sheepishly, but you’re so goddam obvious and Yoongi finds that unbelievably cute. He feels his own heart start to beat at rhythm much more rapid than its usual, skipping a few beats from time to time. “Can I kiss you?” He asks, effectively getting you to look back at him. Your eyes are comically wide and your mouth slightly agape. “So cute,” he whispers under his breath, but you still hear it.     “Y-you can,” you stutter. Keeping your composure seemed not to be a choice right now. He flashes a devilish grin your way, lifting himself up on his elbows and getting closer to you. He doesn’t go in right away like you expected him to, choosing to lay you on your back and hover his face inches from yours. He smiles down at you, who still looks at him wide-eyed. He moves all the hair away from your face so he can see you better, making every brush of his fingers against your skin count. He walks those fingers down from your temple to your neck, making you shiver. There’s that smirk again. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Your eyes close on their own when he starts to lean down but open when you feel his lips on your forehead instead of on your lips. He kisses both your cheeks and plants a few gentle kisses on your neck. Just the touch alone makes you lightheaded, grabbing the back of his head to keep you grounded and him near. The way he chuckles into your neck only makes the feeling more intense. He brings himself back up so that he’s face to face with you, eyes dark and hazy. “I love you,” he whispers almost smugly like he knows the effect it’s going to have on you even before it comes out of his mouth. You squirm under him, confirming what he already knows. You know you’re being played when you see the look on his face. “You’re not going to stop are you?” Your voice comes out way more breathy than you intended. “If it’s gonna get you this riled up, I don’t think I will,” he quips. You’re about to fight back, but he shuts you quickly with the feeling of his lips just barely brushing against your ear. “I like seeing you like this too much,” he whispers. He feels your grip on him tighten, and he takes that as his signal to go in for the kill, pressing his lips to yours. You feel like all the axons in your body have fired off simultaneously. Yoongi worked you up to the point where one kiss was all it took to set off everything and make you feel it all at once. You thought you knew what it felt like to kiss him, but this, this was something entirely different. You pull him impossibly close in an attempt to somehow deepen the kiss. The groan he lets out when he feels you getting eager only makes you more determined. It was his plan to get you riled up but now that he did it seemed to backfire on him. He didn’t know when it happened but somehow you were on top of him now, and he didn’t mind it one bit. The urgency in the way you kiss him has his mind short circuiting and losing all sense of control and composure, letting low sounds leave his mouth without much awareness of them. It seemed to spur you on more and more, which created a cycle of increasing desperation between the two of you. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand now, but Yoongi didn’t feel like it was him anymore. When you slid your hand under his shirt he swore he stopped breathing for a moment, making him instinctively grab at your thigh to have something to anchor him to reality. The action made you jump forward a little, calling out his name in a way that had you both frozen. It was all too overwhelming; you had to stop before it went too far. You pull away, giving you both space to catch your breaths. You look down at him with such intensity it makes it hard for him to steady his heart. You could only think one thing when you saw him, your mouth losing its filter entirely. “I love you,” you breathe out. The words have his eyes widening instantly, something wild flashing in them. If he thought those words riled you up then they must have set him on fire. Fuck air. Kissing you is way better. He pulls you back down to connect your lips, this time much slower and sweeter but just as dizzying as the first. You take your time before lifting yourself back up. He lets out a content sigh, draping his arm over his eyes and smiling. You let out a little laugh. He uncovers his eyes and watches fondly from under you, his tongue darting across his lips in a subtle motion. “You are perfect,” he says, the sparkles of his eyes were starting to match the brightness of the city lights coming from his window. “There’s no such thing,” you whisper, unable to hold back the smile that was tugging at your lips. “The science has proved otherwise,” he quips, hand innocently moving up and down your thigh. “What science?” You chuckle. “You want me to show you again?” He moves one of his hands to your cheek, thumb caressing your lips. “Because I wouldn’t mind doing this all night.” “You’ve never been much good at science,” you hum. His smile widens even more at your words. “Maybe not,” he admits. “But I think I learned how to make your heart skip a few beats,” he says, emphasizing his point with a squeeze of the hand still resting on your thigh. You gasp, leg flinching a little–a reaction that’s almost better than the first time. You look down at him with heated cheeks, slapping his chest with just enough force for it not to hurt. He grabs your hand before you can retract it, laying it over his heart. “And maybe it works on mine too.” You could definitely feel his heart racing, making you feel more than just giddy. You hide your embarrassment with a scrunch of your nose to show your disapproval of his words. “Cringey,” you mumble under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear it and chuckle. “Don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” he teases. The smallest of smiles tug at the corners of your lips. You let your head fall against his chest, laying your weight on top of him while he rubs circles on your back. “I do,” you admit sheepishly, a big smile on your face he couldn’t see. “I know,” he moves the hair out of your face whispering his words into the disheveled strands, "it’s late, get some sleep.” “I’m not going to wake up until evening time,” you mumble. “Sounds like a good plan.” He lets you get comfortable before he whispers his last words of the night. "By the way," he says making sure he still has your attention, "I love you." You smile to yourself when he tightens his hold on you and pulls you closer. After he places a few kisses on your cheek, you turn your head and catch his lips with your own, feeling him smile into the kiss. You turn your head back away from him, knowing you're going to sleep well tonight.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

[ourfanficlibrary]

Tolerate it

This story was inspired by Taylor Swift's song titled Tolerate it, so I would recommend listening to it if you haven't already. It's a good song!!

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST/SADNESS (but also moments of fluff)

Word count: almost 7K

Side note: the headers are the reader’s age: yoongi’s age

Summary:

He was your brother’s best friend, only two years older than you. You’ve known him since you were 8, and he felt like your second brother for the longest time. His warmth melted a permanent hole in your heart that only he could fill. It was enough to make you love him, even when his affection seemed to turn to toleration. 

8:10

He saw you peeking out from the bottom of the staircase, watching curiously as he and your brother tested out a new Lego set he had gotten for Christmas. He caught your gaze and sent you a smile that showcased his gums and made you blush for the first time out of many that would come after that. You were a shy kid from the get-go, but for some reason, his smile warmed you up enough to step out of the shadows instead of running away. 

“Do you want to play with us?” He asked you, making your brother turn around to look at you. Quietly, you nod your head and the two boys scoot over to make space for you in between them. He handed you an oddly shaped block and pointed you toward where you were supposed to put it. You nodded, following his instruction and beaming when you saw the joyed glint in his eyes when you were successful. 

12:14

You saw the front door open and two boys enter with slouched postures and pouty faces. Only when the two of them came closer did you see that Yoongi’s jeans were covered in mud and his elbow was scraped badly. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head seeing the contrast between the bright red skin of the injured area and his usually pale skin. Almost immediately, you’re off the couch and in front of them. 

“What happened?” You asked your brother, seeing as Yoongi didn’t look like he was in the mood to explain.

  “We were skating and some kid thought it would be funny to throw a branch in front of him,” he said. The anger flashing through your eyes at that moment was anything but subtle.

“Funny?” You repeat in disbelief, grabbing Yoongi’s arm to inspect it. There was mud on the scraped skin. 

“They were stupid,” your brother spit out.

“No duh. You go get some clothes, I'll do the first aid stuff,” you said, already pulling Yoongi towards the bathroom with you. 

You pulled down the lid on the toilet and instructed him to sit while you got everything you needed from the cabinets. You cleaned the mud off his arm with water first, not wanting to go right in with alcohol until the area was free of any visible dirt.

“Why are you all muddy?” You asked him curiously. He hadn’t spoken since he walked in, and you already knew that it was because he was embarrassed.

“I fell into the grass, and it was still wet from the rain,” he answered. You looked at his arm again, and it just didn’t click.

“You wouldn’t have gotten scraped up so badly if you fell in the grass. This is from the cement,” you pointed out, throwing the napkin away to get a new one and start to disinfect the scarp. 

“I fell in the grass after I fell on the cement,” he explained. You looked up at him to see him blushing and avoiding eye contact with you. 

“What?” You asked wide-eyed with concern and confusion.

“I passed out.”

“What???” You almost screamed but managed to keep your volume level. 

“We were walking back home through the field, and I looked at my arm for the first time and saw all the blood. So, I passed out.” His face seemed to match the color of his poor arm. 

“Oh,” you say, a little more relieved. Passing out from the sight of blood isn’t so bad. “It’s a good thing you passed out on the grass and not the cement, even though you got mud all over you. At least you didn’t hit your head hard,” you said, more to calm yourself down than anything. “Right? You didn’t hit your head?”

“No,” he chuckles at your frantic questioning. “My head is fine.” You nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. You pressed the alcohol-soaked napkin to his skin, eliciting a hiss out of him that made you pull back with a grimace.

“Sorry. Did it sting really badly?” He shakes his head and offers you a weak smile.

“It’s fine. You can keep going.” You nodded your head again and softly brought the napkin back to his skin, wiping it clean before you threw the napkin away and freed Yoongi of the torture. 

“I couldn’t find any bandages big enough,” you confessed. “But I’ll figure something out.” You made your way out of the bathroom shouting out “Stay here!” before disappearing. Not even a moment later you’re sliding across the bathroom floor with tape in your hand because the sheer speed you were running at made it hard to stop. Yoongi let out a small laugh at your antics, unable to keep that smile you loved so much off his face. You give it right back to him, smiling happily as you walk towards the toilet and hover over him once more. You grabbed another paper towel, folded it, and wrapped it around his arms. He watched as you taped the two ends together with so much focus your tongue poked out a bit. A habit he’d come to be endeared by. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to you when you were finished. 

“Of course.” You gave him your best smile. “I called mom to pick up some bandages on the way home, but for now this is the best I could do,” you told him. Truth be told, he didn’t mind at all. The most healing thing to him was knowing you cared enough to treat him so attentively. 

“It’s perfect,” he assured you. 

18:20

Yoongi was distracted the whole time he was at your house, finding it difficult to focus on the words that were coming out of your brother’s mouth. He nodded, but his eyes kept wandering to the stairs. He was looking for you; you didn’t even run down to greet him when he rang the doorbell like you always did. He knew you were home, so how come you didn’t come to see him? Yoongi looked back at your brother and told him he was going to go up to say hi to you, but a frown overtook his features when he saw the way your brother cringed at the mention of your name.

“I don’t know if you want to do that right now,” your brother warned him.

“Why not?” Yoongi asked through a pout.

“She was crying.”

“Crying? Why?” His eyes widened, displaying all the worry that was already clearly evident in his voice.

“I don’t know,” your brother admit defeatedly, “She refused to tell me what happened and kicked me out of her room.”

“I’m gonna go. . .try to talk to her,” he decided, getting up from the couch.

“Ok bro, but don’t take it personally if she tells you to fuck off. I’m her brother, and she literally kicked my ass out the door, you know with her foot and all,” he lifted his leg up for a demonstration and gestured to it with his arms, “and locked me out.” A weak smile lifted the corner of Yoongi’s lips; he could imagine you doing that. He nodded with a chuckle and found himself making his way upstairs despite the warnings. Though he hesitated when his hand came up to knock on your door. After a deep breath in and out he let his hand collide with the wood.

“Hey, it’s me,” he called from the other side of the door. There was silence until he heard footsteps making their way towards him. You opened the door only a crack, hiding your face behind it.

“Hi Yoongi,” you managed to say, voice croaky. “I’m, uh,” you sniffled, looking down, “sorry I didn’t come down to say hi. I’ve been. . .feeling a little sick.” Part of his heart broke at how sweet you were being with him even when he knew you felt like shit. Though somewhere in his heart of hearts he knew that if there was anyone who’d be safe from bearing the brunt of your rage, it was him. You weren’t exactly subtle about your soft spot for your brother’s best friend. 

“Can I come in?” He asked, watching you grow hesitant. He knew you were looking for a way to say no to him. “Your brother already told me you’ve been crying,” he admitted, hoping it would at least get you to stop trying to hide your face from him.

“My brother has a big mouth,” you grumbled, opening the door and walking back to face plant on your bed. Yoongi shut the door behind him and took a seat next to you, patting your back in an attempt to soothe you in some way. It worked because you sat up to face him, giving him an unobstructed view of your puffy face and red eyes.  

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked. When Yoongi asked if you want to talk about something, it always felt like he wasn’t going to secretly be disappointed if you said yes. Sometimes with other people, it felt like a way of being polite instead of genuine concern, and for those times your answer was always no. But at the same time, it didn’t feel like a way to get you to talk either. You knew if you say no, he wouldn’t push it. That’s why for him the answer was always yes. 

“There was a guy from school,” you started, already feeling embarrassed, but when you looked up to see Yoongi’s attentive face, you felt ok to keep going. “We started hanging out at the end of last year. He kind of asked me out, and I said yes, which was stupid because I didn’t even like the guy like that. I just wanted to experience the whole dating thing before I do it with someone I actually had feelings for,” you felt yourself start to get sidetracked and stopped talking, “anyways that’s not important. We started doing the whole dating thing at the being of summer. We’d hold hands and stuff, but he would never try to kiss me or anything. I didn’t mind it at first because I’ve never, you know,” your face started to heat up a bit at the confession, but he just nodded in understanding, “yeah so I thought maybe he was also taking it slow like I was, but when I finally decided that I was ready to just do it, he said some shit to me that made me feel sad.” Yoongi’s face fell, eyebrows furrowing subconsciously.

“What shit?” You immediately shied away from his gaze, biting the inside of your cheek.

“He, uh,” you played with your fingers nervously, “he said he didn’t want to kiss me. Apparently, my braces are a huge turnoff. I didn’t have them when he asked me out, he probably wouldn’t have if I did.” You kept your eyes on your hands, scared that you’ll start crying again if you look at him. Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that you were insecure about having braces at your age because most of your friends already got theirs removed years ago, but he didn’t see the probably with them. He didn’t understand why anyone would see them as a reason not to take the chance to kiss you. You were still you with or without them. He can’t help the scoff that leaves his lips at the thought.

“That’s some bullshit. They’re not a turnoff at all, he’s just a dumbass.” He said sternly enough to make you laugh.

“You just say that because you’re nice to me,” you brushed him off. 

“No, you know I don’t lie.” He was right. In the time you’ve known Yoongi, he’s been rather blunt. He didn’t see the use for white lies. “I think someone would have to be stupid not to want to kiss you.” The words kind of just slipped from his mouth before he could register the implication he was making. You whipped your head to look at him, making his cheeks go red. His hand found the back of his neck as it tended to when he was nervous. 

“Would you?” You asked catching him completely off guard. His eyes widened, lips parting ever so slightly.

“Huh?”

“I mean if you were him, would you have wanted to kiss me?” You asked feeling rather daring, but still feeling your heart brace itself for its second wave of rejection–rejection you’d already know would be much harder to shoulder than the first. 

“If-if I was him, yeah,” he stutters, unsure if his answer is acceptable. Would it make it ok to want to kiss you if he was someone else? If he wasn’t your brother’s best friend. He feels a little bit of relief when he sees you starting to smile, but his relief seems not to last very long.

“What if I asked you?” You looked at him intently. “Would you want to kiss me?” His eyes fell to your lips for the briefest of moments, they were glossy from a fresh application of chapstick, and he begged his brain not to wonder what it tastes like. His efforts were fruitless, so he looked away, hands rested on his knees. He stayed quiet, feeling somewhat unequipped to answer your question. “Because I want you to.” Your words hit him like a pile of bricks, and he sent you a look of pure disbelief. 

“Are asking me to kiss you?” He asked like your words weren’t clear as day.

“Isn’t it better if my first kiss is with someone I know and trust instead of some random person I don’t care about? If you wanted to kiss me, I’d like that,” you said, suddenly getting shy. You studied his face eagerly, but it didn’t give you many clues to what he was thinking. His blank stare put you off. You look down at your lap, a bitter chuckle leaving your mouth. Rejection. He was just being nice “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. We–”

“Yeah,” he cut you off, “Of course, I would.”

“Are you. . .? Really?” You felt the need to confirm. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, returning to his confident self. “I don’t want you kissing assholes.” He shined his pretty smile at you, making your cheeks heat up. You returned it, turning to fully face him, scooting in a bit closer, and sitting on your heels. His eyes fell back onto your lips, and his tongue darted out to swipe across his own. The action caught your attention, and all of a sudden the reality of what you just asked hits you–who you just asked. “Are you sure you want it to be me?” He asked you softly. “I would feel really bad if you regretted it.”

“I wouldn’t. Not with you, I feel safe with you.” He bit his lip to keep his smile from growing too wide. He felt proud to hear those words from you, that you trusted him, even if he already knew it well. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb on your soft skin. He got closer until his lips were only centimeters apart from yours and your breath hitches.

“I’m glad,” he whispered before closing the gap. Your eyes shut at the feeling of his lips moving against yours, wanting only to focus on it. He eased you into it, letting you get comfortable enough to set the pace. He smiled into the kiss when he felt your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in gently. He almost wrapped his hands around your thighs to pull you onto his lap before he realized what he was doing and dropped them. You pulled away, looking at him with a stunned expression. Maybe neither of you expected that to be so. . .exciting. You didn’t back away completely, biting your lips nervously as he stared at you silently. Unable to put your thoughts together properly you let your eyes drift back up to his and said nothing. When he smiled at you, you felt your reserve slowly crumble. The wire in your brain snapped when he started to chuckle at your wide-eyed expression. You pushed him onto his back and hovered over him like a predator, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you warned. 

“But your face is funny,” he defended himself, still smiling at you. You didn’t say anything snarky back to him, instead, your eyes darted around his face–searching for something. All you found was the fondness in his eyes and his gummy smile– the one that made you fall for him every single time. Min Yoongi. The man you’ve yearned for since you knew what wanting someone felt like. The man you’d asked to give you your first kiss. The man who always seemed to give you what you asked for just because you wanted it. The man who was smiling his lovely smile just for you. 

“C-can we do that again?” You asked hesitantly. A bit of shock passed through his eyes that would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t watching closely before he gave you a silent nod. You were still positioned over him, hands and knees supporting you. You leaned down, bringing your lips to his. This time you fell into rhythm quickly, having gotten a hang of what to do. Without the nerves of the first kiss, you were able to fully experience all the sparks of the second. Your chest felt tingly, and your lungs felt constricted. You only pulled away because it was getting hard to breath. The tingly feeling spread to your entire body when he lifted his head to chase the kiss as you brought yourself back up, his eyes still closed even after your lips were gone. Min Yoongi. The man who made you weak in the knees. You let yourself fall next to him on the mattress. 

“That guy missed out big time,” Yoongi spoke up, pulling you out of your thoughts. A smile made its home on your face. It was good to know you weren’t the only one enjoying that. You turned your head to look at Yoongi, who was already looking at you. God. That smile of his only did more damage after you knew what it was like to kiss him. His eyes sparkled in a way that was distinctly Yoongi. Your brother used to make fun of you when you’d say that everybody’s eyes shined differently because they were meant to be interpreted differently by different people. Everybody’s sparkle was designed to make their soulmate fall in love with them. You knew it was some stupid trope you’d fantasied, but when you looked at Yoongi’s eyes it felt real. “Don’t let boys make you cry. And definitely don’t let them make you feel like shit, ok?” He waited expectantly for you to answer. You nodded your head.

“Ok,” you whispered.

“You’re going to have to be a lot more convincing than that,” he chuckled. “Promise me,” he said, holding out his pinky towards you. You locked your pinky with his.

“I promise,” you said more confidently.

“Good.” He smiled, sitting up in his spot. His hair stuck up in the back, making it look slightly messy. It was unnecessarily attractive. You looked at him longingly, not being able to voice your feelings. Wasn’t it already obvious? 

“Yoongi,” you called out softly, but that’s all you managed to get out, feeling unprepared to talk at all.

“Hm?” He hummed, still looking at you with the same fond eyes. Your heart started to race.

“Thank you,” you said. He shook his head with a chuckle.

“For what?”

“For always being there when I need you. For everything.” The look on your face was so soft, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench. 

“Of course, anything for you.” Your grip on the edge of the mattress tightened at his words, gaze falling to the floor. His hand searched for yours, holding it firmly in his to reassure you. 

21:23

Your brother had broken the news to you. Yoongi dropped out of college, and his parents kicked him out of the house. So that’s why you were at the goshiwon helping him move in. Your brother was supposed to be here but he was busy and sent you instead. Yoongi didn’t have much to move; you were mostly here for mental support, not physical. He set his box down on the desk, not turning around to face you immediately. You knew it was hard on him, but part of you knew he’d be ok in the end. Coming with him gave you relief you didn’t know you needed. The goshiwon wasn’t the nicest, but it wasn’t the worst either. His floormates didn’t seem too bad. Maybe he could even make friends, but you didn’t have to worry too much because you already knew your brother would keep him more than enough company. He had you too. He wouldn’t be lonely. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said, back still facing you. You give him a sad smile he couldn’t even see.

“Of course. I want to be here,” you assured him. He looked over his shoulder at you sitting on his bed and smiled. “I’ll always be here for you. Me and my brother,” you added. He finally sat next to you, but didn’t say a word for a while. You let him take his time, knowing he must be trying to process everything. When he finally looked at you, you saw the tears spilling from his eyes. Acting on pure instinct, you pull him to your chest and let him cry against you. He held onto you so tight, as if he thought you’d run away if he let go. You ran your hand through his soft smooth locks to calm his nerves. He felt the rise and fall of your chest with every breath, and it soothed him beyond explanation. Maybe it was because it solidified your presence in his mind. He was able to regain his composure, feeling his tears come to an end.

“That’s all I need,” he whispered. He sat up and nodded, as if to convince himself he’ll be fine. You laid your head on his shoulder and took in the new setting with him. He admired the way you so neatly organized his things into the shelving over the desk. Maybe he was happy that your brother sent you instead because you gave him the kind of peace he'd probably never be able to find in anybody else. He felt you wrap your hand around his and reciprocated eagerly. Your eyes fell on the clock on the corner of his desk. It was getting late and your campus was an hour and a half away. You lifted your head from his shoulder and cleared your throat.

“I should get going,” you announced, still holding onto his hand.

“Stay,” Yoongi said immediately. He didn’t get the chance to think about what he was saying until it was too late. His cheeks tinted pink, and he avoided looking at your wide-eyed expression. “I mean I know I don’t have much space in here, but it’s dark out and you have a long drive. You can stay if you want.” Your eyes softened at his words. You could tell that he didn’t really want to be left alone, even if he wasn’t going to tell you straight up. 

“Ok,” you answered, feeling a bit unsure of how it would go, but when you saw his shoulders relax you let go of your own unease. He looked at you with a weak smile before looking back down and letting it fall from his face.

“We should probably get changed,” he suggested. You looked down at your laps, realizing that you were both wearing jeans. He got up and pulled out some clothes for the both of you. He set them on the bed and opened a new pack of toothbrushes, putting one down for you as well. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, “I’ll go see if someone will let me into the bathroom on the women’s floor.” He nodded, still feeling hesitant to look you in the eye after his brazen request. He was probably breaking some of the goshiwon rules by asking you to stay with him, but you didn’t even object. He knew how much of a stickler you were for the rules, and how nervous you probably were to get caught. A bit of guilt surfaced in him. He pushed his thoughts aside and used the chance of you not being there to get changed. Right as he walked out of the bathroom he got a text from you to come open the door. When he did, he was met with the unexpected sight of your sweet smile and sparkling eyes. That paired with you in his oversized t-shirt and pajama pants made his heart do something strange and unexplainable. He shook himself out of his thoughts and let you in. You skipped all the way to his room, making him smile as he opened the door to his room. You seemed happy.

“What’s got you all excited?” He asked, watching you make yourself comfortable on his bed. 

“I met this girl downstairs who was so sweet. She let me into the women’s floor and even insisted on sharing her skincare with me. I got her phone number,” you told him excitedly. He smiled at you, looking you up and down. Of course, you already made a friend. 

“That’s nice,” he hummed, getting in under the blanket with you. He let out a sigh of relief when he was finally in bed. The blanket was so soft and warm that it felt like heaven to have it wrapped around him. He groaned, pulling it up all the way around him so that it would engulf him. He almost forgot you were there until he heard your giggles.

“I told you you would like this blanket,” you said from over the blockade he created with it. He pulled the blanket down just enough to see your face, and gave you a defeated nod. Yes, he did complain when you gave it to him because it was pink and fluffy with little cats and dogs printed on it, but he couldn’t deny that it was great.

“Still looks like it belongs to a five-year-old,” he grumbled with eyes shut.

“Ok, yes, it’s a kids blanket, but it’s cozy anyways!!!” You defended your choices. “Plus, it’s cute and it made me think of you.” He frowned at that, glaring at you. Instead of being deterred by that you just laughed at him. “Look,” you held up a section of the blanket that had a cat on it making a -ㅅ- face, “this one looks like you right now. You’re even making the same face!” He tried to keep up his unamused act, but he couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from rising. 

“You’re saying I look like a cat, huh?” He asked in a way that dared you to say yes and find out the consequences. 

“Absolutely, you do,” you answered immediately. 

“Take it back,” he demanded.

“Nope,” you teased, popping the p. 

“Take it back,” he repeated. You felt his hand drift up to your waist, fingers ghosting over your sides and making you shiver. 

“Or what?” You tried to seem unfazed by his touch. He raised an eyebrow at you, and before you knew it he was hovering above you. The situation reminded you of three years ago when you kissed him. Except the positions were flipped; he was in control. The thought had your heart skipping a beat. 

“I’ll tickle you,” he threatened. What he wasn’t expecting was the smug look that crossed your face.

“Do it,” you dared him. “I’ll cause a ruckus, and you’ll get kicked out of here on your first night.”

“You’re an evil one, aren’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. 

“Maybe.” You smiled up at him. His eyes fell to your lips and for a moment he thought about kissing them. Not because you asked him like three years ago but because he wanted to. His eyes found yours again, and you had gone silent, watching his every move eagerly. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and let his hand stay on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. The way your breath hitched at the contact didn’t go unnoticed by him, only urging him to get closer to you. Your hands gripped onto the collar of his shirt, holding him to you. When his lips were only centimeters away from yours, his phone rang like a wake-up call. He got off you and stumbled to reach his phone. It was your brother. He looked at you and answered the call.

“Hey. Yeah, everything is done. Uh, no, she’s still here. Got late, didn’t want her to drive back. Sure, yeah thanks. Night.” You heard him speak into the phone before he hung up and set it back down. Seeing you in his clothes, in his bed–where he almost kissed you, felt so wrong now. He never told your brother how he felt about you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure until he was looking down at your pretty face and saw the way your eyes glittered at him. He knew if he kissed you this time it wouldn’t be a one-time thing you’d never speak about like it was three years ago. He wanted you, and once he got you there was no going back. He scratched the back of his neck and looked around before getting back into bed with you. He tried to keep as much distance as possible between you, but that proved to be extremely difficult in the small goshiwon bed. You lifted your head and frowned at the sight of nearly half his body hanging off the side of the bed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, but before he could even answer he felt your hand on his waist, pulling him closer to you. You manhandled him a bit to get him in the position you want (little spoon) and wrapped your arms and legs around him. He would have laughed, had he not felt like he should be running away. He let out a shaky breath when he felt you snuggle into his shoulder. He rested his arm over the one you had wound against his torso and intertwined your hands, letting himself enjoy the last time he’d let himself get this close to you. 

26:28 (Now)

You used to cook him food and bring it to him on your days off when he was still living in the goshiwon. He knew you were using your free time to take care of him because you wanted him to have something delicious whenever he could, but he never showed how much he really appreciated it. When you drove an hour and a half there and back every Saturday and Sunday, all he did was say thank you and shut the door in your face. He knew he sent you home crying more times than he cared to admit, but it was the only option. At least that’s how he saw it. When he finally established himself as a producer and moved out of the goshiwon, you were the person proudest of him. And now that he was successful enough to have a nice apartment in the center of Seoul, you were still the person who stood behind him. You still took care of him like you always have. You’d come over when he was too busy to leave his in-home studio and cook for him to make sure he had something delicious to eat. Just like you always had. You used his fancy kitchen more than he did. 

The aroma made its way into the studio, making him subconsciously follow it all the way back to the kitchen. He smiled seeing you dancing around with a wooden ladle in your hand to the music coming out of the surround sound speakers he set up all over the apartment. He’d gotten so used to seeing you there, in his home, that it felt like you belonged there. He nearly came up to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest but stopped himself mid-way. If life was like his fantasies then he’d already have his arms around you and his chin rested on your shoulder. Maybe he’d whisper in your ear and call you baby just to see how you’d react. Then he’d say, ‘why don’t you just move in with me? You practically live here anyway.’ But that’s not what happened because life isn’t one of his daydreams. You turned around and smiled at him so beautifully he wanted to cry. He didn’t understand how you could still love him so much. He knew you had to resent him just a little. Of course, you did. There was no way someone could make you cry every time you saw them and not make you hate them just a little bit. Of course, you hate him, but how can you love him enough to pretend you don't? How could you love him at all? What really happened was a harsh contrast to Yoongi’s fantasies. You watched him close his eyes and bring a hand up to pinch his nose, letting out an irritated breath. 

“Why do you always come here uninvited and act like it’s your house?” He spat out. He watched the smile fall right off your face, and man he wished he didn’t speak. He knew this wasn’t the first time he hurt you, far from it, but it usually wasn’t because of the things he said but because of the things he didn’t say. He knew his words cut deeper than any knife. The blades of his words stung like poison, and he could see it on your face. You set the ladle down and took off the apron you were wearing, making sure to turn off the stove too. Knowing he was the reason all the happiness suddenly drained out of your face made him want to throw up all the contents of his stomach. You scoff, shaking your head at all the things you had set up for him.

“I really don’t know,” you say with more resignation than anger, and it kills him. You still couldn’t yell at him when he knew he deserved a hard slap to the face or maybe 10. “You don’t have to worry about me showing up here uninvited ever again,” you say, looking him in the eye. “You don’t have to worry about me showing up at all.” Now, he could see the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You never let him see you cry; you always waited until you were at least in the safety of your car. He couldn’t process what you were saying until you were already at his door with your shoes on.  

“Wait! I-,” he called out to you, but you just shut the door and left. He panicked running out to catch up to you before you left. He sees you walking into the elevator and by some luck, he catches your wrist before you can go in. You turn to face him, eyes all red and puffy. “I’m sorry, I fucked up,” he says, holding onto your hand. 

“You always fuck up.” He knows this already but hearing you say it made his heart crack. 

“I fucked up, even more, today,” he corrects. You didn’t say anything else, just looked at him like you would rather be standing in front of anyone else. “Just stay, and please let me try to fix it.” You gave him a sad smile that told him you didn’t believe he could.

“I broke my promise,”  you chuckle sadly. He looked at you with confusion, eyes begging for an explanation. “You made me promise not to let boys make me cry and feel like shit, but I haven’t been keeping that promise. I just never thought you’d be the reason, not back then.” You look down and swallow roughly. “All these years I thought you were just tolerating me, but now I know that you were barely even doing that.”

“That’s not true,” he tells you. 

“Then what is? You made it clear how you feel about me hanging around you.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you did,” you say, giving him that same sad smile. “I don’t know why I tried so hard when I knew you felt this way. I guess I was holding onto the past.” You laugh at your own stupidity. “I was waiting for the old Yoongi to come back. The one that made me feel like he loved me. The one that looked at me like he wanted nothing more than to kiss me that night in the goshiwon. But I don’t know what happened to him. It seems like he disappeared with that moment, and I was naively optimistic in thinking he’d ever come back.”

“He’s still there. He’s always been there,” he says, holding both of your hands and urging you to believe him.

“Is he? Then why do you do this to me? I haven’t seen you smile at me in 5 years.”

“I was scared to lose you. To lose everyone I love,” he admits. You tilt your head at him and look at him with the uttermost disgust. He’s never seen you look at anyone like that, especially not him.

“So, you thought the best way to keep me around was to treat me like shit?” You spit out the question. 

“I thought that the best way to pretend I don’t love you more than just a friend was to distance myself from you. I never meant for it to go so far, but you kept loving me no matter how indifferent I pretended to be. For a second, I thought you hating me would be better, but maybe I’m selfish because I don’t want that,” he explains, leaving you even more confused.

“Yoongi,” you say almost as a plea. A plea to stop messing with your feelings. “You’re not making any sense,” you say softly.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. So much so that I’m scared of it. I’m scared that me loving you wouldn’t be ok with your brother, and I’ll end up losing my friendship with him because of it. And if I lose him I lose you too. I’m scared that maybe one day you’ll turn around and say ‘sorry Yoongi, but I don’t love you anymore’. Then where will I be? I don’t want to lose the two most important people in my life. Especially not you.” You feel your heart in your throat, and think you might just shut down right there. 

“My brother doesn’t have a say in how you feel about me, and I think you already know I can’t fall out of love with you. Believe me, I’ve tried,” you confess, making his heart drop. Even though he’s been trying so hard to get you not to love him anymore, the thought of it actually working makes his whole body ache. “You don’t treat people you love the way you treated me, especially when they love you as much as I do.”

“I know. I just don’t want to lose any more people in my life. I couldn’t risk it. I would rather have you in my life hating me than not there at all.” He looks at you, hoping you’d understand him. “But what I can’t handle is you hating me and walking out of my life, so please I–” his voice cracks, making you whip your head up to see him crying, “I need you to stay. I need you in my life. I won’t hurt you again. I need you to believe that I’m still the same person who loved you all those years ago. Who loves you now.”

“How can I do that, Yoongi?” You look into his eyes intently. “How can I do that when I don’t even remember what your love feels like?” Your question was enough to turn the crack in Yoongi’s heart into a fault line, only needing one last earthquake to shatter it completely. He shuts his mouth not knowing what to say to you. You pull your hands away from his and press the elevator button. It doesn’t take more than 10 seconds for the doors to open again. “Goodbye, Yoongi,” you say, as the doors finally shut. He walks back to his apartment, and nothing feels real until he smells the aroma still lingering in his home. He walks down to the kitchen, seeing two glasses and a new bottle of his favorite brand of whiskey sitting next to them. That’s the first time you’ve set two glasses; you were planning to stay and eat with him. And that was the earthquake that broke his heart into tiny pieces. 

How different would it be if he just let himself hold you when he wanted to? If he let himself love you when he wanted to? If he kissed you that night in the goshiwon?

[ourfanficlibrary]

Break down in my arms and I’ll put you back together

Yoongi x gn!reader

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort (Neither Yoongi nor OC is the one causing the hurt)

TW: Allusions to physical abuse & mental illness, brief description of injury ----Please do not read this work if you find any of these things triggering 

word count: 1.1k

Yoongi walked into the dark room, the only light coming from the streetlights outside the window. It was just well lit enough to see you curled up in fetal position on his bed. He flips the light switch on, walking over to your body. The only sounds in the room are his footsteps and your soft breaths. He kneels down by the side of the bed where you’ve laid your head. 

“Arm,” he instructs gently. You lift your head slightly and slide out your arm for him. He hesitates for a moment, now that he could see your arm in the bright light he could tell the skin was turning black. The spot was an angry square of red and purple with skin torn slightly at the center. He held back his comments and poured some rubbing alcohol onto a paper towel to clean the area where the skin had peeled. As soon as he placed the wet surface onto your skin, you shivered, biting your lip to hold back a hiss. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice filled with regret. “I have to clean it or it might get infected.” You give him a weak nod but stay silent. You don’t speak yet, and your dissociated look sends alarm bells off in his head, but he keeps himself calm for you. He opens a fresh tube of burn relief Neosporin ointment, gently spreading it onto the area he had cleaned. He peeled off an adhesive dressing pad and covered the spot with it. 

“Am I a bad person?” You whisper so quietly he might have missed it if he wasn’t paying such close attention to you. 

“What?” His brows furrow, as he gently tucks your arm back towards you. 

“Am I a bad person because I left my mom?” Your lips quiver through your sentence, eyes glossy as you look at him. 

“You got hurt because of her,” he reminds you.

“It wasn’t her fault. She’s sick. She can’t control it,” you say. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean that you should just let it happen,” he says, a small frown ghosting his lips. 

“I left her alone because I can’t handle it that she’s sick. She needs me, and I leave everytime it gets too hard. I’m selfish.” You feel sick to your stomach, like half of you belongs somewhere else even though the only place you want to be is here. 

“It’s not your responsibility to handle it. You don’t have to put your physical and mental health in danger for anyone, ok? You’re allowed to think about yourself too. That’s not selfish, it’s self-preservation.” He tries not to sound irritated because he’s not, at least not with you, just at the fact that you felt like you were a bad person for taking yourself out of a bad situation. 

“It’s hard to feel that way. Especially when everyone else seems to think otherwise,” you say.

“Other people have a lot of opinions, but they don’t know what you deal with everyday. They’re not living your life, so they can just fuck off with their judgments.” You don’t say anything, but he can see the tears well up in your eyes and your eyebrows furrow. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and the tears came flowing. Yoongi shifts on his knees to bring a hand up to cup your cheek and wipe your tears. You’re fighting so hard against the tears he can see your body shaking, and watching you felt like someone wrapped their fingers around his heart and squeezed with all their strength. “Hey, don’t try to keep it in. You can cry all you want.”

“I’m sorry that I came here. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. It’s not your problem,” you say through shaky breaths and hiccups. 

“Don’t apologize. I’ll always be there for you because I want to. I want you to come to me,” he says, brushing his thumb across your cheek. Your heaving starts to mellow out at the sound of his words, giving him the tiniest bit of relief.

“I’d drown without you,” you whisper into the air, closing your eyes to stop yourself from looking at him. He knows the significance of your words, and it hurts like hell. “You keep me feeling like a person.” He moves in closer to you, resting his forehead against yours, bringing his other hand up under your other cheek, willing you to look at him.

“You’ll never be without me,” he tells you, tone firm with no room for disagreement. “So don’t think about that.” You don’t respond, closing your eyes again. It gets harder to keep them open when he’s looking at you like that. You feel his lips kiss the skin that his thumbs caressed earlier, and it makes you want to cry more.

“Don’t do that,” you beg, “please.” He pulls away to look at you with worried eyes. “Don’t kiss me because you think it’ll make me feel better. Because you’re sad for me. It only hurts me more.”

“I’m not,” he says, not doing anything to mask the offense in his voice, “I’m doing it because I love you, and want you to feel it.” You open your eyes and look at him. The intensity of the way he looks at you tells you he’s dead serious, and it throws all your emotions for a loop.

“Yoongi,” your voice comes out somewhere between a gasp and a warning.

“I love you,” he repeats more confidently, smiling at your wide-eyed reaction. “There I said it,” he chuckles. “And I mean it with every fucking ounce of my existence,” he says, making sure you can’t doubt him. Your eyes search his desperately, and all you find is sincerity. “I’m sorry for saying this now. I just want you to know that there is at least one person on this planet that loves you in every way possible.” All you can think of doing, all you want to do, is wrap your hand around the back of his neck to pull him in closer, bringing him in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips one more time for good measure.

“I love you too,” you whisper back to him. He gets up and climbs onto the bed, settling himself behind you so he could wrap his arms and legs around you. He snuggles into your neck, and laces your fingers together. There was no better feeling than this. His presence is enough to make you feel safe and lull you to sleep. He kisses your forehead and tries to join you in your slumber. You’re in his arms, and that’s where he knows you belong.

[ourfanficlibrary]

*boops your nose* Send this to ten blogs you think are lovely and deserve a boop on the nose 🎀💜💜💜

Thank you so much @adventuresinwonderlust !!! You’re too sweet🥰 *boops right back* 

[ourfanficlibrary]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Hi guys, so I wrote this Halloween FF a while ago, and I don’t have very much patience so I’m posting it now. 😂😂😂

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Suggestive language, alcohol Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Reader, Min Yoongi | Suga/You, Min Yoongi | Suga & You Characters: Min Yoongi | Suga, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook, You Additional Tags: Cute Min Yoongi | Suga, Soft Min Yoongi | Suga, Fluff, Halloween, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Whipped, Romance, Alcohol, Suggestive Themes, No Smut Summary:

You and your roommate/friend Yoongi go to a Halloween party and you end up getting a little too drunk and honest.

[ourfanficlibrary]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Something New:)))

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Alcohol, Suggestive Themes Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Reader, Min Yoongi | Suga & Reader, Min Yoongi | Suga/You Characters: Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Taehyung | V, Reader

A modern harry potter AU with Ravenclaw! reader x Slytherin! Yoongi. Reader decides to help Yoongi with potions class, but things are a bit rocky when Yoongi's bad reputation fuels nasty rumors.

[ourfanficlibrary]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD!

Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out. 💕

@adventuresinwonderlust thank you!!!!!😭😭I think this is the appropriate time to say “no you”! Hope you’re having a great day/night because you certainly made mine❤️❤️

[ourfanficlibrary]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let’s get to know the person behind the blog. ❤️🥰😘✨

@adventuresinwonderlust Thank you for sending this to me!

1. I'm actually terrible at using this site and have no idea how to attach gifs when I send asks to people (I'm not old, just dumb😫)

2. I have an addiction to/obsession with reading fanfic and can no longer read published books because they just don't hit the same

3. I'm more likely to cry when something sad happens in fiction than I am if something sad happens to me

[ourfanficlibrary]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 14/14 Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Reader,  Warnings:  Implied Sexual Content, Alcohol Summary: Crashing into Min Yoongi on the way out of the dorms? Bad luck or best luck?

[ourfanficlibrary]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary:

Short Prince Yoongi one-shot where the King doesn't like Yoongi and won't let him marry his daughter.

Prince! Yoongi x Princess! Reader

[ourfanficlibrary]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Yoongi x Reader

Summary:

You go on summer vacation to Italy with your family and some close family friends. Their son, Yoongi, who you spent a good chunk of your childhood both ignoring and crushing on, is coming along. Will you guys keep pretending the other doesn't exist or will it be different this time?

[ourfanficlibrary]

Do I spend too much time simping for Yoongi?

Yes.

Do I regret any of it?

No.