#vmin angst

[gimmethatagustd]

home for the holidays | kth + pjm

Jimin is home for the holidays, but Taehyung still feels the distance between them.

Relationship: Taehyung x Jimin

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: Light Angst, Childhood Friends, Unrequited Love, Sad Taehyung

Word Count: <1k

A/N: I didn't finish all 25 drabbles cuz I had another fic I needed to work on before Christmas, but perhaps I'll return to this for Christmas 2026~

🎁 Advent Calendar Masterlist

Jimin: look where we are :) 

A slightly blurry photo of three men appears on Taehyung’s phone screen. Silver lighting cascades over the men’s faces, making the whites of their eyes bright despite the heaviness of their drunken eyelids. 

Jimin is taking the selfie; he’s the one who can make them all look good the best. The DST, he jokingly calls himself when they’re out with their friends. Designated selca taker. Then there’s Aditya, tan arms wrapped loosely around Jimin’s middle. Something about the lighting makes his normally handsome face look grotesque. Bookending the pair is Eunwoo. He’s dyed his hair lime green again, sticking up in spikes on top of his head. Taehyung didn’t know he’d decided to ditch the blonde look, suddenly can’t remember the last time he saw Eunwoo. 

Violet’s. They’re at a Christmas pop-up bar at Violet’s in honor of Jimin coming home. The new bar opened a few weeks ago. Taehyung walks past it every day on his way to work. Of course, it’s always closed when he sees it because Taehyung locks up at the shop by early evening, and Violet’s doesn’t open until dusk. 

His fingers tremble as they glide over the screen. 

Taehyung: looks like you’re having fun! 

Deletes.

Retypes. 

Taehyung: the christmas decorations are so pretty :) 

Deletes. 

Retypes. 

Taehyung: i thought you said we were gonna go together?

Before he can press send, a new message appears. 

Jimin: my phone’s about to die. i’ll text you later! Jimin: you should come with us next time :) 

Taehyung deletes the entire message thread without responding.

It’s fine, he thinks to himself as he slides further under the blankets. He didn’t need to go to Violet’s when his three best friends did. The four of them don’t need to do everything together during the holidays. Sure, they all agreed to try out the new nightclub together when Jimin came back, and it was specifically Taehyung’s idea, but it’s okay that they went without him. Taehyung is already in his pajamas, swaddled in blankets, his favorite Christmas movies playing through reruns on his laptop. It wouldn’t have been a good time to ask him to go out, anyway. 

For the rest of the night, Taehyung’s phone stays flipped over on his nightstand despite how the urge to check it digs its claws into his chest. 

It’s been a few hours since Jimin’s texts, and the streaming platform is paused on his laptop. Taehyung has long since given up on watching movies.

Are you still there? it asks. 

Unfortunately, Taehyung wants to respond.

[gimmethatagustd]

snowy days | kth + pjm

Taehyung is a winter sprite few people believe in anymore. When he meets a boy who does, he knows he needs to keep him for himself.

Relationship: Sprite Taehyung x Human Jimin

Rating: Teen (?)

Tags: Fantasy, Angst, Jack Frost AU, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Possessive Taehyung, Stalking (lowkey??)

Word Count: 1,228

🎁 Advent Calendar Masterlist

There’s a boy living in the rental cabin on the outskirts of town. Taehyung saw him from the trees one morning, dragging a suitcase up the icy wooden stairs. Each thud of the suitcase wheels echoed through the snowy woods.

Thump, thump, thump.

Annoying.

It roused Taehyung from a nap, nearly sent him falling off the tree he slept in, with a leg draped over the side of a branch and an arm slung over his eyes to block out the milky winter sun. He considered summoning a blizzard or avalanche right there, just to make the boy shut up. But humans often die when Taehyung does that, so he thought better of it.

Decisions, decisions.

It was fine, though. Taehyung had other things he needed to focus on, like complaints from the children in town. For weeks, they’d conducted their little winter rituals for him. They slept with spoons under their pillows. They flushed ice cubes down the toilet. Once, on an evening stroll through the town, Taehyung saw some children run around their dining room table with their siblings at least five times before bed—wearing their pajamas inside-out for added measure. All to summon the most coveted childhood winter treat: a snow day.

But good things come to those who wait! And Taehyung didn’t feel much like giving anyone a snow day just yet. He’s fickle according to human folklore. Mischievous. Malicious. Or, if you asked the children born in winter, he’s what they look forward to most every year.

Taehyung may be all those things. Or none. Who’s to know?

Curious may fit best. Especially when weeks go by and the boy in the cabin never leaves.

Taehyung thinks that’s pretty funny. People never stay in the cabin long, and never alone. There are too many scary things in the woods for a lone person to brave on their own. Taehyung knows; he’s one of them!

Or so the boy in the cabin thinks.

Taehyung hears him talk to friends on the phone, whispering about fingers tapping on the windows and strange drafts chilling him at all hours of the day. Once, the boy in the cabin swore he felt a pinch at his nose! He rushed to the bathroom mirror to watch the tip turn bright pink, right before his eyes.

The next day, the boy swears something poked his cheeks, making them just as rosy as his pinched nose.

Can anyone blame Taehyung for wanting to play? The boy in the cabin has a cute, chubby face, round like a snowman but glowing with life that warms even Taehyung’s frozen heart.

Of course, the boy in the cabin’s friends tell him his imagination is running wild.

They call him Jimin, Taehyung learns one day. They say it isn’t good for Jimin to stay alone in the woods, even if he thinks this is how he’ll clear his mind and escape the stress of the city during his winter holiday. Jimin is likely getting cabin fever, his friends say. He’s missing human connection—maybe he should visit the town more often! Maybe he should end his vacation early. Maybe he shouldn’t pay too much attention to the icicle sculptures that grow in the night, appearing in the morning along the stone pathway leading up to the cabin, like castles from a winter fairytale. Maybe he shouldn’t stare at the delicate fern patterns of ice that spread across his windows—he’s starting to think he sees fingerprints around the edges of the glass.

Clearly, Jimin is going crazy.

Taehyung likes to watch him wonder. It’s fun to see if he’ll figure it out. Sometimes, Taehyung considers visiting for real. He could quit creeping around the cabin, invisible to Jimin’s human eyes but still detected by the cold he blows across Jimin’s skin when they get too close. Taehyung had visited humans before, decades ago, back when the people who rented the cabin didn’t try capturing proof of his existence when he showed up at their door. Icicles dangled from his pointed ears. Snowstorms swirled in his eyes.

Humans are no fun these days, with their video recordings and conspiracy theories. Either they don’t believe Taehyung is real or they don’t even remember who he is anymore.

How would they experience the wonder of winter without him? Taehyung sneezes, and snow blankets the woods, hiding the death of fall and making something beautiful out of a barren season.

Jimin must remember him.

Once, Taehyung thought he heard Jimin murmur one of his names.

Jack Frost.

It’s an old name, but one of Taehyung’s favorites—aside from his real name, of course. Hearing it from Jimin’s pouty lips makes Taehyung so giddy, he floats beneath Jimin’s bedroom window all night, pacing, contemplating what frosty design he’ll draw in the morning as a gift. Something delicate and pretty, like Jimin himself. It will serve as a sign that Taehyung is coming.

Ideas skate across the frozen lake of Taehyung’s mind, twirling around and around until they’ve spun a design in the icy surface. He blows a sheet of ice across the window in the morning to being his work, and watches Jimin pack the last of his clean, folded laundry into his suitcase as the ice smothers the bedroom window's glass.

Jimin is leaving the cabin on the day Taehyung will finally visit him.

It absolutely cannot be.

Normally icy cold, Taehyung’s blood shoots like fire from his heart. It burns his veins as it pumps through his body, drawing tingling goosebumps across his skin. Something wet drips from his temples. When he touches his skin, his fingers pull away coated in water. His icicles are melting.

“No, no, no…”

Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair, finds the icy crust gone liquid. The blue-blonde strands flop across his forehead, damp and cold in the winter breeze.

Jimin can’t leave.

On the opposite side of the cabin, Jimin unlocks the front door. He’s learned after a few weeks of living here that the deadbolt gets stuck sometimes. But today, after unlocking the deadbolt without issue, Jimin finds the door is still stuck shut.

Through the window, Taehyung can see Jimin rest his suitcase against the wall with a frown. Jimin wrestles with the door, twisting and pulling the handle, shoving his shoulder into the tired wood, until his cheeks turn pink. It will not budge; Taehyung knows because he froze it shut. It’s easy, really. He blew on the handle, the lock keyhole, and the hinges. He sealed the edges of the doorframe with an icy fingertip not melting with panic.

Jimin knows his name. Taehyung can’t let him leave.

The harder Jimin tries to open the door, the more ice Taehyung builds around it, until the entire cabin is coated around the edges. Beyond them, in the woods, snow kicks up in wispy swirls. They tornado between barren trees, whipping and screeching in the air.

Taehyung can summon a blizzard with the snap of his fingers. He can draw a blanket from the snow, wrap himself in the fluffy quilt, and wait. Just wait. Wait and watch through a sheet of snow as Jimin taps away on his phone—only to realize his cell service is disrupted by the turmoil outside.

Waiting, waiting.

Taehyung watches Jimin through the window and wonders how many blizzards it will take to keep him here.

🎁 Advent Calendar Masterlist

[gimmethatagustd]

spearmint (2) | kth + pjm

The death of a sentinel whose bond with their guide has been broken is slow and painful. Two years have passed since Taehyung left Jimin.

Relationship: Guide Taehyung x Sentinel Jimin

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Science Fiction, Sentinel/Guide AU, Exes to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Slowburn, Sick Jimin, Mental Health Issues, Taehyung has PTSD, Soul Bond, Getting Back Together, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 2,289

A/N: Warning for blood and vomit. i'm so sorry this was so depressing sjhdfks

Soundtrack: DPR IAN - Winterfall

‣ Series Masterlist

Taehyung’s apartment is nearly sentinel-proof.

There’s no scent in the air, no candles or air freshener. Taehyung isn’t wearing cologne, and he must use scentless shampoo and body wash. Jimin wouldn’t know, considering he can’t smell anything anymore, but a falling tree still makes a sound even when no one is there to hear it.

As Jimin crosses the threshold with Yoongi, stepping into the living room after kicking off their shoes, Taehyung lingers in the doorway. He stoops to fiddle with a small box on the floor, pressing buttons and adjusting its placement near the door. 

Once a muted hum sounds from the box, Taehyung stands to his full height. 

“White noise machine,” he says when Jimin accidentally meets his gaze. 

Jimin merely nods. 

The shushing sound of the machine follows them, blanketing the living room in a steady wave of static. White noise not only blocks outside noises from bothering Jimin’s sensitive ears, but it also prevents eavesdropping. 

Something about the paranoia that clings to Taehyung makes Jimin feel sick. He can sense it, a frantic anxiety buzzing underneath the calm exterior Taehyung presents to them. Three years ago, Taehyung was one of their military unit’s most skilled snipers. Now, his hands tremble as he passes around drinks and snacks, like he’s nervous to host a charcuterie night with close friends for the first time. 

Maybe in an alternate universe. In another life, they could be normal. 

Jimin sinks into the leather couch, appreciating its smooth, cool surface against his skin, not scratchy like most fabric couches. The mug of tea he holds is smooth, too. Ceramic, likely terra cotta, Taehyung’s favorite to work with. The pale lavender glaze glimmers in the dim, inoffensive lighting. A cool blue from cream lampshades. One lamp, which is shaped like a tiger sitting upright, has a light bulb emerging from the top of its head. It’s the type of furniture Jimin would have had to pry out of Taehyung’s hands after being dragged to the Dongmyo Flea Market.

But there’s something off about this place. Jimin can’t put a name to the feeling he gets when he notes gaudy floral wallpaper in the living room and a promotional magnet on the kitchen fridge from what he recognizes as a local lesbian bar.

Why the fuck is Taehyung in Chicago?

Bringing his mug to his lips, Jimin takes a sip of what ends up being white tea. Its warmth tingles as it flows through his body, lighting up his taste buds in the strange, sharp feeling one gets when drinking something floral or citrusy after chewing mint gum or brushing their teeth. He lets the mild flavor sit on his taste buds, swishing the tea against his teeth before swallowing. At least Taehyung’s favorite tea flavor isn’t out of place.

“Tea at this hour is ridiculous,” Yoongi mutters before taking a sip from his own mug. He sits beside Jimin on the leather couch, though his posture is upright and he just barely hangs off the edge of the cushions—like he’s ready to take flight.

“Think of it like a nightcap,” Taehyung suggests, in Korean, since they’ve all switched back to their mother tongue. He balances his mug atop his thigh, unbelievably steady in his armchair opposite them. “But better for you.”

Yoongi grumbles something about Taehyung’s disrespect of libations, but all Jimin hears is the calming thrum of Taehyung’s heartbeat.

It’s a feeling Jimin had initially found difficult to get used to—syncing heartbeats. When Taehyung’s curious eyes meet Jimin’s, their hearts beat just a bit faster.

Jimin counts to five before he takes another drink of his tea, each of his fingers tapping against the mug. He moves to the rhythm Taehyung establishes as he repeatedly clicks an ink pen he grabbed from the coffee table between them.

“The two of you are getting on my nerves with all this noise.” Yoongi places his half-drunk tea a little too hard on the table, sloshing a few streams onto the coaster. “If it isn’t you both getting your shit together through fucking Morse Code, then you need to sit still.”

With a frown, Taehyung looks down at his hands. He tosses the pen onto the coffee table as though he hadn’t known he’d picked it up at all, like he accidentally leaned against a hot stove or left a candle lit too long. Pain sours his expression, twisting his smile and wrinkling the skin between his eyebrows.

It amazes Jimin how beautiful Taehyung is, even with such a haunted look.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Taehyung reaches for the back of his head to rake his fingers through his hair.

Taehyung’s hair is longer now. Jimin noticed it when he followed him into the apartment. Years ago, he’d told Jimin that he wanted to grow out a mullet once they were discharged from the military. It’s no surprise that he has one now—and has gone blonde, too. Taehyung was always the type of man to keep his word, no matter how insignificant the promise was. Or who it was for.

Except with Jimin.

Forever was what Taehyung had promised him. Maybe Jimin should have clarified his wish, asked more questions, read the fine print. Is it still forever if there are gaps in the timeline? Did forever even mean anything at all? The military artificially designed them to experience forever together. Maybe it was never a matter of the heart.

Genetic code isn’t nearly as romantic as believing in fate.

Jimin knocks back the rest of his tea and places the empty cup on the coffee table. He shifts on the couch to angle his body toward Yoongi, keeping Taehyung in his peripheral vision. He can’t bear to look at him head-on without feeling like he’s inhaling needles.

“So…” Jimin adjusts his dark bangs with his pinkies, sweeping them out of his eyes. He watches Yoongi’s blank expression morph into an irritated glower.

“Are you going to fess up?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms against his chest.

Years ago, Taehyung was the indignant one, and Jimin was the rule follower. Now, Jimin crosses his arms against his chest, too, and shoots Yoongi an irritated look back.

“Fess up about what?”

“You know exactly what,” Yoongi snaps, finally losing his cool. 

For a sentinel, Yoongi handles himself well. Usually. 

Jimin remembers a handful of missions turned disastrous, with Sergeant Min grabbing Taehyung by his uniform collar to bark orders in his face. “You. Are. His. Shadow,” —Jimin can hear the memory over the apartment’s white noise— “If I see you even two fucking steps behind Jimin, you are done for.”

Jimin never blamed Taehyung when he fell behind. Very few sentinels understand the burdens guides carry, too. Stationed in foreign countries, fighting wars no one ever explained to them. They all suffered in their own ways. But weapons aren’t meant to have emotions. Assassins are hardly people.

“Jimin-ah…” Taehyung’s voice is gentle against the buzz of Yoongi’s angry exhales rushing from his nostrils.

Jimin’s brain tells him to remain rigid; his heart leads him toward Taehyung. He feels like a marionette whose strings are wrapped around Taehyung’s long fingers. Each pull is gradual, never yanked, yet he loses his balance, anyway. The sensation is nothing new.

“What are your symptoms?” Taehyung asks once Jimin is looking at him.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, wiggling it hard enough to hurt. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Please, Jimin.”

They’ve always been like this, he and Taehyung, tangled in red strings of fate ever since they met as school children. It’s why Jimin’s heart yearns to believe in fate, not the invasive science that forced a bond that already existed. 

With a sigh, Jimin drops his gaze to his lavender-glazed mug. “I spike often, or at least deal with pretty intense flare-ups. I cough and throw up blood sometimes,”—he pauses, trying to ignore how his heartbeat quickens with Taehyung’s growing panic—"and I lost my sense of smell…"

Yoongi makes a hissing sound. “Goddamnit, Jimin.” 

Taehyung’s heart lurches, breath hitches. 

Leaning forward, Jimin rests his forearms on his thighs and stares at the pink-gold rug under his feet, toes wiggling in his socks to distract from the thick, wet bile rising in his throat. 

The marriage of white noise and thunderstorm rain pattering against the windows can’t drown out Taehyung’s sobs. Even with the bathroom door closed, Jimin hears the feathery pull of Kleenex from its box. Taehyung’s heavy breathing through the tissue. One of his nostrils is more closed up than the other. Jimin always thought it was because he had a deviated septum, but Taehyung wouldn’t ever ask the medics. 

Yoongi’s fingers dig into the sharp curve of Jimin’s shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Is all of this supposed to be comforting?” Jimin shrugs him off with more force than is needed. “What were you guys trying to do? Host an intervention?” 

“Yes!” Yoongi laughs, but his eyes are wide and his face has gone a glowy white. “You selfish shit.” 

“Selfish? I’m selfish now?”

“Taehyung has been trying to contact you for months, just to get jack shit in response. He was worried you were dead. He thought he was killing you.” 

“He fucking is!”

The words surprise Jimin more than they do Yoongi, even though Jimin is the one who barks them. 

They stare at each other with burning eyes and parted mouths, shoulders heaving as their anger boils over. Down the hall, the bathroom door flings open. Jimin’s bones grow cold and brittle with the thunderous vibrations of Taehyung slamming his bedroom door shut. 

Yoongi shakes his head, pushes himself up from the couch. “Fuck you.”

Jimin considers throwing himself out of the car on the drive home. Tuck and roll—a strategy to get away from the scarred man behind the steering wheel. It wouldn’t be as dramatic as it sounds. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, and it would take a lot more to do him any serious damage.

Risking a sideways glance, Jimin notes the grind of Yoongi’s molars, the skin around his jawline drawn taut. His thumbs beating their old unit’s fight song against the wheel.

He decides to behave.

With his body twisted, knees pointing to the door, Jimin leans against the window and watches the new condos turn into the well-worn apartment complexes of his neighborhood. Chicago isn’t cheap, but his office job wouldn’t make him rich in Seoul either. He gets by on his salary, even without ever cashing the checks he gets as part of his discharge package. No amount of money can change the fact that military scientists scrambled something in his brain, preventing him from ever spilling their secrets. Like a non-disclosure agreement in the form of a lobotomy.

Sometimes Jimin wishes they'd just wiped his memories clean. It would be nice only knowing who he was before the military stole his autonomy. It would be nice only knowing Taehyung in that way, too. Now, all they know of each other is how to hide.

By the time Yoongi pulls up to Jimin’s apartment, it’s nearly two in the morning.

Reaching across Jimin’s lap, Yoongi grabs the car door handle before he can open it. "You aren't the only one hurting,” he says, eyes blazing as bright as Jimin’s neighbor smoking a joint out on his rain-slicked balcony. "I'm not gonna let you end up like Changmin. I don't give a shit how stupid stubborn you are."

After Jimin doesn’t say anything, Yoongi pushes the door open with a performative grunt. Once outside, Jimin shuts it hard enough that Yoongi would have kicked his ass if it were his car and not a military rental.

When Jimin picked Chicago, he knew there was an international sentinel base on the outskirts of the city. He figured the likelihood that anyone from his former unit would be sent there on business was slim. As Yoongi drives away, the sentinel-guide program’s insignia gleaming in the city lights, Jimin mourns that the chances weren’t slim enough.

The west side of the block, where Jimin’s apartment is, sits in darkness. When he skips over the flooded patches of the sidewalk to reach the gate, he overhears his neighbor complain through marijuana smoke that the transformer blew in the alley. Damn thunderstorms. Jimin can’t smell the burnt electricity in the air, but he tastes its sting.

Inside, the building’s emergency lights flicker against the scuffed walls. Jimin takes the stairs two at a time, keeping his head down to hide from the strobing lights. He can feel his pulse behind his eyeballs, throbbing to the frequency of each burst of bright white. It takes him three tries before he inserts his key into his apartment door properly, the tip scraping against the hole as his head spins.

His arm gets caught in his shirt when he tries pulling it off, barely stumbling out of his shoes once he’s past the entryway of his apartment unit. Did he lock the door behind himself? All he can think about is how hot he is, how the denim of his jeans drags against his skin like claws, how his eyeballs feel like they’re swimming in his skull.

Snatching a dish towel, Jimin tosses it over the stove to hide its clock’s red numbers. In his bedroom, he rips out the plug for his overhead LED mood lighting. The apartment is pitch black and it’s still too bright.

His knees crack against the tile floor when he kneels in front of the toilet and throws up white tea and blood. When he squeezes his eyes shut, floral wallpaper dances behind his eyelids.

‣ Series Masterlist

[gimmethatagustd]

the wind speaks | kth + pjm

Something's living under the dock at the Kim family's beach house.

Pairing: Human Taehyung x Siren Jimin

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,315

Genre/Trope: Fantasy, angst

Content Warning: Friends to lovers (?), emotional manipulation, yandere Jimin, ambiguous/open ending, possible character death (??)

A/N: Shout out to @btscontentenjoyer for making this incredible moodboard!

Soundtrack: siren songs

“Taehyung-ah! You have two hours before dinner, okay?” 

“Yes, eomma!” 

“Don’t make me have to come find you!” 

“Yes, eomma!” Taehyung calls out before closing the sliding glass door to their deck. 

The Kim family beach house sits just behind the sand dunes separating the beach from the homes lining the streets of their quiet town. The homes are nothing special, just boxy buildings with large windows built on high foundations to protect from flooding. The residents’ real treasures are boats, and the Kim dock is where Taehyung heads. 

Taehyung’s fluffy hair whips in the cool autumn wind during his trek through the cleared walkway between the dunes leading to the beach. Reaching the sand, the toes of his boots darken as he trudges through it. All morning, it rained, making the sand clump like wet dirt. Slimy seaweed and other debris cake the shoreline, so Taehyung carefully walks along the beach. 

The Kim dock isn’t anything fancy. Taehyung’s father built it himself out of wood he cut, sanded, and treated with his bare hands years ago. They keep their small fishing boat anchored to it – Singularity, named by Taehyung. He didn't know what to say when his parents asked him what it meant. He couldn’t outright admit that the word came to him in whispers in the wind when he sat at the edge of the dock, feet kicking in the air above the water. Taehyung has told one too many stories in the past; his parents are tired of hearing about his conversations with the wind. They said he would grow out of it, but Taehyung is freshly twenty, no longer a child, yet the wind still speaks. 

It’s cold without the sun to chase away the rain clouds. Taehyung zips his windbreaker up to the base of his throat and crouches at the edge of the dock to peer out at the ocean. The water is clouded from the rain kicking up the sandy floor.

“Hi,” Taehyung speaks to the wind and hopes it remembers. 

He left his phone at home, so he has no way of knowing how long he waits. The dock is rain-soaked, but his thighs burn from crouching. He opts for kneeling and shivers when his jeans absorb water at the knees.

“My Tae?” 

“Yes!” Taehyung perks up, eyes searching the horizon where the gray sky meets the murky ocean waters. He never sees anything; it’s just the wind. He looks anyway. 

“Where have you been, my Tae?” The wind sounds disappointed, and guilt makes Taehyung shrink further into his jacket like a frightened animal backed into a corner. 

“I’m sorry. I go to college now,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, “Far from here, so I can only visit during school breaks.” 

Waves lap at the legs of the dock. Sometimes, Taehyung thinks he sees things in the water, shadows bigger than the fish he catches off the dock in the summers. His father insists that the water is too shallow for large fish like sharks, but Taehyung doesn’t believe him. 

“I miss my Tae when he isn’t around…” 

Is it possible for a voice to be addicting? Taehyung swears the wind’s voice calms him. It’s silvery and alluring, a lullaby he could find himself falling into. He imagines himself falling asleep on a note, riding the soundwaves of the wind’s voice, ringing pure and cutting through the splash of waves meeting the dock. Sometimes, he wishes the wind would sing to him, knowing it would be a kind of heaven on earth if it did. 

“I miss you, too. It’s hard making new friends. I can’t just talk to them about anything like I can with you.” He closes his eyes and feels the wind kiss each eyelid.

“You are my only friend,” the wind whispers, sounding so close that Taehyung thinks he can feel the wind swirl against the side of his face. 

The air smells stronger now, a mixture of saltwater and petrichor. A cold front must be approaching. Taehyung worries it may rain again, but he doesn’t open his eyes to check. Something tells him not to, that it’s safer if he keeps them closed, though he doesn’t know why he’d need to be kept safe. Safe from what? The wind? 

“Open your eyes, Taehyung,” the wind whispers softly, alluring, a temptation so sweet that Taehyung feels himself falling into it, “See me.” 

“I’m scared,” Taehyung whimpers with a shiver. He tucks his hands between his thighs and holds his breath when he feels something caress his jaw, a light pressure like an index finger trailing from his earlobe to his chin. 

“Why are you scared? I love you, my Tae.” The light touch sweeps back along his jaw and then trails down Taehyung’s throat until the collar of his jacket stops it. His wind loves him. “I would never hurt you. Now open your eyes.” 

Cold hands gently cradle Taehyung’s face, palms to his cheeks. The hands are soft, slightly damp, and very much real. The wind can’t have hands, he tells himself. The wind is just wind. Taehyung’s stomach churns, tumbling like it does when his father’s boat hits a patch of rocky waves, sending fish flopping onto the bed of the boat and making Taehyung’s boots slide against the aluminum. 

With his heart fluttering like a caged hummingbird, Taehyung slowly opens his eyes. 

The wind is not air, but a young man with eyes a murky green like the sea who stares at Taehyung with parted glossy lips. Taehyung catches a glimpse of sharpened teeth behind those luscious lips, but he can’t focus on only one thing when there is so much of the man to take in. His shockingly white hair is messily braided with strips of seaweed and strings of pink pearls and draped over his shoulder – his naked shoulder – and Taehyung realizes the man is shirtless. Little jewels, pearls, and other shimmery gems decorate the man’s chest, outlining his sides until they reach his waist – covered in green scales that gleam despite the lack of sun. Taehyung inhales sharply when his eyes finally land on the sparkly fishtail draped over the side of the dock. 

“I–” Panic swells in Taehyung’s chest. He gasps as though he’s been pulled underwater, the moisture in the air like the ocean in his lungs. “Who, who are you?”

“I am your wind, Taehyung,” the man says with a small smile. When he slides one hand up Taehyung’s face to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, he makes a sound like a cat purring. “But in the water, I am called Jimin.” 

“Jimin,” Taehyung whispers. Jimin. It is such a soft name; Taehyung likes how his lips pucker when he says it. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your name? Why didn’t you show yourself to me?” 

Jimin gives Taehyung a sad smile. “I was scared, too.” 

Taehyung’s heart still beats frantically in his chest, but he calms down as Jimin plays with his hair, caressing and running his fingers through the strands. Jimin calls out Taehyung’s name, whispering it like a secret only they know, “My Tae, my sweet Tae, my precious Taehyungie, so happy to finally touch you.” 

Taehyung finds himself closing his eyes and leaning into Jimin’s touch, letting out a quiet whimper when Jimin lightly scratches his scalp. Hypnotizing – the word bubbles up to the surface of Taehyung’s mind, his thoughts murky like the water beneath the dock. The wind, Jimin, is hypnotizing. 

“Why?” Taehyung asks without explanation, but Jimin knows everything. 

“I want to keep you.” 

“Hmm?” Taehyung lifts his head, realizing he has rested it on Jimin’s shoulder. It’s comfortable in Jimin’s embrace, even though Taehyung’s pants are thoroughly soaked from rain and ocean water, and Jimin’s scales feel strange under his fingers when he skips them along Jimin’s waist. 

“I want to keep you, my Tae. I can’t let you go.” 

“Keep me where?” Taehyung asks with glossy round eyes. He points to the waves lapping at the dock. “In there?” 

Jimin licks his lips, and Taehyung feels his stomach churn and dip like the climax of a rollercoaster or a freefall from a plane. 

“Yes.” Jimin runs his thumb along the apple of Taehyung’s cheek. His touch is just as soothing as it is terrifying; Taehyung can’t comprehend how that is. “Will you come with me?” 

Taehyung can’t. He can’t survive in the ocean; doesn’t his wind know that? 

But there’s still the pull. The source of it sinks lower until it’s tugging at Taehyung’s belly, making him heat up despite the temperature quickly dropping around them. It’s almost night; he’s unsure if he has already missed dinner or if his mother is searching for him. Looking over his shoulder, he sees nothing– hears nothing but the chirp of gulls and the crash of waves. 

“Taehyung.” 

Jimin’s fingers curl around Taehyung’s chin and force Taehyung to face him again. The color of his eyes seems to have darkened with the sky, a light gray now when it was once green. 

Taehyung’s name sounds so pretty, coming from Jimin’s pillowy lips, lips glossy and pink like the pearls in his hair, and the gems decorating his body. 

Taehyung feels the pull, and he wonders if it’s Jimin giving him sealegs, even though they’re both sitting down. Something is terrifying about his beauty, something uncanny, like an android that looks a little too real, or the feeling you get when you realize a photograph is actually a painting – still beautiful but deceptive. There’s something scary about Jimin that Taehyung can’t fully understand before it slips through his fingers like sand. 

Taehyung wants to kiss him. 

“I want to kiss you,” he says, not knowing why he admits it out loud. He can’t stop himself from leaning into Jimin when he pulls Taehyung against him. 

“My sweet Tae,” Jimin murmurs into Taehyung’s mouth. 

Jimin’s tongue is slippery and tastes like saltwater, but it’s warm and deft as it flicks against Taehyung’s lips and slithers along Taehyung’s tongue. His hands tangle in Taehyung’s hair, yanking his head to the side to deepen the kiss. It’s fast and desperate, Taehyung moaning and gasping into Jimin and Jimin taking it with bites to Taehyung’s lips and groans of his own. Taehyung has never been kissed like this, held so gently but ravaged. His lungs burn as he drowns in his wind. 

Taehyung groans when Jimin releases his mouth to suck on his neck, just above his jacket’s collar. Taehyung can do nothing but let Jimin pull his head back, and he watches the stars come into view when he’s laid flat on his back. Water soaks his hair, making the strands turn black, and Taehyung’s body shivers from the cold. Only his torso is relatively dry. 

“Jimin,” Taehyung calls out, voice gravelly, nearly stuck in the back of his throat. “I can’t.” 

I can’t survive in the ocean, he thinks, and can’t speak because Jimin suddenly straddles his thighs. 

“Stay with me, Taehyung,” Jimin pleads, but it’s spoken with an authority Taehyung can’t imagine disobeying.

“Your legs,” Taehyung chokes and tries to push himself up on his elbows. 

Gone is Jimin’s elegant tail. He has legs now, pretty legs with a smattering of green scales at his hips and along his calves. Jimin grips Taehyung’s hips with fingers that are greenish at the tips. His nails are sharpened into points and dig into his skin, even through his jacket.

“If you will not stay with me, let me give my Tae a gift,” Jimin whispers, his eyes sparkling like the ocean under the moonlight. 

Taehyung nods quickly and squirms beneath him. “Something to remember you until I can visit again?”

Jimin licks his lips, eyes boring into Taehyung’s, and Taehyung gets another glimpse of sharp teeth. He rakes his nails down Taehyung’s body, from his hips to the tops of his thighs. Taehyung hears the denim rip and fray, but Jimin’s nails don’t break his skin. 

“You’ll never forget me, my Tae.” 

“Of course not,” Taehyung pants with a heaving chest. He feels wild, an animal taunted by the rattle of his ribs when Jimin suddenly shakes him. 

“Your gift,” Jimin whispers as he leans forward, walking his green-tipped fingers up Taehyung’s torso until they’re hooked around his shoulders. 

“My gift…” 

Taehyung watches Jimin’s eyes change, shifting from gray to bright white, and his pupils turn into pinpoints. 

“My heart is pierced by Cupid; I disdain all glittering gold,” Jimin sings softly as he yanks Taehyung into a sitting position and straddles his lap, “There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold.” 

The song sounds familiar, but Taehyung doesn’t know why. The memory sits on the tip of his tongue and dances to the haunting tune of Jimin’s cadence, just out of Taehyung’s grasp. He finds that it doesn’t matter – not the memory, nor anything else. 

“His hair, it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal. My happiness attend him wherever he may go.” 

Taehyung’s head lolls to the side. He no longer holds it up, just lets Jimin’s warm palms squeeze his cheeks to keep him upright. He goes where Jimin moves him, tips his head backward when Jimin wants to stare into his eyes. 

“From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep, and moan, all for my jolly sailor, until he sails home.”

Jimin’s nails puncture Taehyung’s jacket. He hooks his fingers through the material as he wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist. Before Taehyung has the chance to do anything but let out a startled gasp, Jimin falls backward into the water, taking Taehyung with him. 

There is no splash when their bodies slip past the ocean’s surface, only bubbles that pattern the otherwise still waters. The waves no longer lap against the Kim family’s dock. The wind no longer speaks. 

[giventae]

Sk8er boi - final chapter update

Taehyung was a punk, Jimin did ballet, what more can I say?

He wanted him, and Jimin would never tell, but secretly he wanted Taehyung as well

But all of Jimin’s friends stuck up their nose. And they had a problem with Taehyung’s baggy clothes

Taehyung was a skater boy. Jimin almost said, “See ya later boy.” Emphasis on ~almost~

[vminhoes]

You're just a snitch. (I'm gonna make you my bitch) - Chapter 4 (final)

Jimin has been nothing but a little snitch who targets Taehyung ever since they were kids. When Taehyung is finally gifted the opportunity for revenge, he seizes it.

[giventae]

I'll be your safety, you'll be my baby

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

Jimin is left feeling broken and insecure about everything that makes him who he is after finally leaving his toxic ex.

He doesn't know if he'll ever feel good enough for another relationship again, until he meets a friendly hybrid named Taehyung whose eyes are almost as beautiful as his soul.

[giventae]

My vmin fics

i hate you (to the moon and back)

Jimin and Taehyung have hated each other for years, and it's time they do something about it in a method that’s...a bit unorthodox to say the least

or: enemies with benefits au except they're both captains of the same soccer team

(Explicit ♥ high school soccer au ♥ enemies to lovers ♥ smut, fluff, angst)

🐻🐥

Collar

“I want you to get them all out of here.” Taehyung ordered in his deep, gravely voice, looking down at Jimin who was still pressed against the wall.

“Why?” Jimin asked, anticipation dripping from his words.

“To teach you a lesson on not letting people touch what’s mine.”

Or: Jimin adopts an intimating, unruly, and absolutely drop dead gorgeous hybrid on impulse and gets much more than he bargained for

(Explicit ♥ modern/hybrid au ♥ hybrid Taehyung, human Jimin ♥ smut, fluff, angst)

🐻🐥

Honeymoon in Hawaii

What else happened on the night Jimin and Taehyung went stargazing in Hawaii?

(Explicit ♥ canon au ♥ best friends to lovers ♥ smut, fluff, angst)

🐻🐥

Enigma

Alpha prince Jimin has agreed to an arranged marriage in order to expand the Park empire with another, but only if he gets to select the prince he will wed.

Insert Kim Taehyung—a stunning beta prince with a gentle demeanor who doesn’t talk much...or at all. Jimin instantly chooses him for his beauty and compliance, but not everything is always as it appears to be.

Enigma: the Alpha of Alphas and is believed to be a myth because of their rarity. They are extremely dangerous and can either lead a society to flourish or to damnation.

(Explicit ♥ omegaverse royalty au ♥ enigma prince Taehyung, alpha prince Jimin ♥ enemies to lovers ♥ smut, fluff, angst)

🐻🐥

It's raining panties

A pair of panties floats from Taehyung’s new neighbor's open window and onto his flowers, so he goes to return them

What Taehyung expected: a briefly awkward but friendly introduction with the woman living next door as he gave the panties back to her

What he got: a stunning man opening the door, blushing bright red and snatching the panties away without a word of explanation

What he's left with: sleepless nights over why the man has the panties, and what he looks like wearing them

(Explicit ♥ modern omegaverse au ♥ alpha Taehyung, omega Jimin ♥ neighbors to lovers ♥ smut, fluff, angst)

🐻🐥

But...he's a cheerleader!

Kim Taehyung: He’s hot, he’s funny, he’s charming, and he’s the only male cheerleader on the squad. Everybody loves Taehyung.

Park Jimin: He’s hot, he’s athletic, he’s disciplined, and he’s strict when it comes to gender roles. Jimin hates Taehyung.

(Explicit ♥ college/university au ♥ cheerleader Taehyung, jock Jimin ♥ enemies to lovers ♥ smut, fluff, angst)

🐻🐥

Sk8er boi

Taehyung was a punk, Jimin did ballet, what more can I say?

He wanted him, and Jimin would never tell, but secretly he wanted Taehyung as well

But all of Jimin’s friends stuck up their nose. And they had a problem with Taehyung’s baggy clothes

Taehyung was a skater boy. Jimin almost said, “See ya later boy.” Emphasis on ~almost~

(Explicit ♥ high school au ♥ skater Taehyung, ballerino Jimin ♥ first loves ♥ smut, fluff, angst)

🐻🐥

One of your girls

Taehyung walks into a Halloween party, and immediately has his eyes set on the hot piece of ass in a Hooter's costume.

He has no idea that said hot piece of ass is a dude, but that won't stop him from a good time.

(Explicit ♥ college/university au ♥ jock Taehyung, cheerleader Jimin ♥ one night stands to fwb's to lovers ♥ smut, fluff, slight angst)