#dawnstruck drabble: bts

[dawnstruck]

hey i really fucking love the mini- fanfics, if you want could you write about yoonmin coming out to their parents? Thank you my dudette

Drabble #10

“This is notexactly the way I imagined this going,” Jimin hisses, nervouslyclenching a hand around his glass of water.

“You think Iplanned this?” Yoongi whispers back. “I told my parents to book atable in a nice restaurant but apparently they think they have thenicest restaurant in town.”

Jimin presses hislips together, just to stop himself from yelling in frustration. Hisfamily has specifically come up from Busan to meet Yoongi’s parentsand it had been supposed to be slightly awkward but overall charmingand sweet. They were meant to go to a nice restaurant, order somegood food, drink some expensive wine, and make pleasant conversation.

Instead, Jimin’sparents are bickering about some engine issues with the car while hislittle brother Jihyun is playing around on his phone. Yoongi’sbrother is running late, and his parents have barely come out of thekitchen yet, apart from taking everyone’s orders and bullying Yoongiinto eating something a bit more filling.

Jimin sighs andleans back in his chair. It is a nice restaurant, he can admit thatmuch. The interior design is nice, the menu looks great, and theyeven been sat down in the fancy backroom where they can have moreprivacy. That privacy is worth shit, though, if a third of the peoplewho are meant to be present are busy elsewhere.

“So, Yoongi-yah,”Jimin’s mother says familiarly. They’ve all known each other for longenough that all parents of Bangtan might as well have adopted sixother boys. “Jimin-ah mentioned you cook, too?”

“Not as well as myparents,” Yoongi allows humbly, “Or as well as Jin-hyung. I justpicked up some things here and there.”

Jimin suppresses achuckle at just how proper Yoongi is trying to sound. It’s downrightadorable.

“Do you think youwould have become a chef, if it weren’t for the group?” Jimin’sfather wants to know. “This could have been your family business.”

“Ah, I don’tknow.” Yoongi scratches his cheek. “Gastronomy is such a ficklemarket and working in the kitchens is so stressful. The working hoursare terrible, really, and you don’t get home until late at night.”

For a moment,everyone just stares at him. Then they burst out laughing.

“Hyung,” Jihyungrins. “Isn’t that pretty much what idol life is like?”

“It is,” Jiminagrees wryly. “Only with everything taken to the max.”

“The pay isbetter, though,” Yoongi argues, “And I get to do the thing Ilove.”

And everyone thinkshe simply means music, but the look he sends Jimin is a little bitmore inclusive.

In that moment,Yoongi’s older brother comes stumbling into the room.

“I’m here, I’mhere, sorry I’m late!” he wheezes, twisting out his jacket, bowinglow even as he walks up to their table. “Traffic was terribletoday.”

They all do theirgreetings and then Yoongi sends his brother a meaningful glare.

“Hyung, can youcheck how long eomma and appa will take?” he asks, drumming hisfingers against the table. “The point of this dinner was to have ittogether.”

“Oookay,” his brother says and disappears intothe direction of the kitchen, returning only two minutes later withsome more drinks.

“Here’s yourwine,” he says but, before he can even set everything down, Jiminhas already grabbed the bottle and is pouring himself some.

“Jimin-ah, that’srude,” his mother chides but Jimin does care, simply take a big sipand lets the red wine sit on his tongue for a moment beforeswallowing it. He’d known that this evening might be challenging buthe hadn’t expected that he’d need to be drunk to survive it.

After anotherfifteen minutes and some small talk about Yoongi’s brother’s work,the overall economy, the neighborhood’s recent raccoon infestationand, strangely, Vin Diesel, Yoongi’s parents finally cart ineveryone’s dinner.

Jimin watches themset the table, listens to his own parents praise the heavenly smell,hears Yoongi’s brother deflect questions about his plans for marriageand Jihyun brag about his own girlfriend of two weeks.

He finishes hissecond glass of wine and then slams it down on the table, makingeveryone flinch slightly and then look at him in surprise.

“Yoongi-yah and Iare dating,” he says with some vindictive pleasure, even as Yoongimakes a dying whale noise beside him. “There, I said it. Anyonewant to disown us?”

Not like there ismuch to inherit anyway, apart from a quaint little restaurant and aHyundai that makes suspicious noises whenever you switch gears.Jimin’s ear rings probably cost more than all the jewelry his motherhad ever owned in her life.

“Wait, what?” Jihyun says around a mouthful of rice. “Haven’t you been datingthis whole time?”

“Since May,”Jimin sniffs, turning his nose up. “So four months now.”

“Oooh,” Yoongi’smother says, “That’s a bit awkward.”

“Huh?” Yoongiasks, “What is?”

“Well.” The other adults around the tableall chuckle and glance at each other. “We assumed you’d beentogether since last summer at least.”

“What?” Yoongistares. “Why?”

“Well, that onetime Jimin-ah stayed over, I kinda heard some suggestive noisescoming from your room,” his brother says, making an equallysuggestive gesture with his hand.

“We were fightingover a pillow!” Yoongi insists, his cheeks going ruddy. “Therewas absolutely nothing going on back then!”

“To be fair,”Jimin’s father notes. “It’s kind of difficult to tell, with whatyou read on the internet all the time. And a lot of the photoshootsyou do are rather homoerotic, don’t you agree?”

“That’s remindsme, actually,” his mother pipes up. “Dong-ssi from finances hasasked me about a shoot you did. It was in the August issue of thatone magazine, I can’t remember the name now, but you were all wearingonesies and Namjoon-ah apparently looked particularly cute, so shewas hoping you could get her a copy? Or even an HD print?”

“Give me thatwine,” Yoongi says and simply wrangles the bottle out of Jimin’sclenched fingers, taking a big swig. Jimin does not object. Maybe itis a good thing after all that they hadn’t gone to a differentrestaurant. Their managers would only be disappointed if the gotroaringly drunk in public.

“What, would youhave preferred if we got mad?” Yoongi’s father asks, shaking hishead in disappointment. “Son, you’ve been rapping about performingoral sex on all kinds of people. It’s rather hard to miss.”

“Wedo pay attention to your music, you know,” his mother adds beforepausing briefly. “I do wish you’d swear a little less, though. That’s nothow we raised you.”

When Jimin lets his head fall against thetabletop, he kind of hopes that it’ll knock him out.

[ao3feed-sugamon]

When the Lights Are Low

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2JelqqY

by dawnstruck

Namjoon's life as definded by a series of accidents in the form of a bond, a baby, and an ever-growing love for his best friend.

 [This is a collection of scenes and drabbles from Namjoon's perspective during and beyond the events of Never Be the Same, which must definitely be read first to ensure understanding. Suggestions and requests are welcome.]

Words: 2350, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, alpha!namjoon, omega!yoongi, Intersex Omegas, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Idol 'verse, Canon, Mating Bond, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Spin-Off, Namjoon POV

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2JelqqY

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #14

“Hyung?” Jungkook asks, sticking his head into the office. “He's here now. Should I let him in?” Yoongi looks up from the papers he had been frowning at, giving Jungkook a long stare.

“Who's here?”

“Park Jimin,” Jungkook replies and then, after another moment of no recognition on Yoongi's face, he adds, “The dance instructor?”

“Oh,” Yoongi says and the memory rushes back at him. “Right. Send him in.”

“Alright,” Jungkook nods and ducks out again. Only a few moments later, the door opens once more and another man steps in, this one probably older than Jungkook but younger than Yoongi, but it's hard to judge really. Jungkook is tall and broad in the shoulders, and Yoongi himself only doesn't get IDed for alcohol because most of the time he is wearing a suit. This guy is about as short as Yoongi and has an entirely to angelic face, and the fact that he is dressed in leggings, an oversized sweater and comfortable sneakers makes him look like nothing but a college freshman.

“Hello,” Park Jimin says, giving a little bow, and Yoongi stands up from his office chair, though his back protests at the movement.

“Please,” he says, gesturing at one of the cushioned chairs standing in front of the desk, “Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Park Jimin says. “This is a lovely office.”

It really is, Yoongi can agree on that much. But he hadn't called the man here to talk about his interior design.

“Did Jungkook-ah tell you why I had him contact you?” he asks instead, skipping the useless smalltalk. Jimin seems to catch on to that, sitting a little more attentive. He has to tilt his head back a little because Yoongi is still standing, a habit he developed for when he needed to intimidate business partners and the like.

“He said you needed a dance teacher,” Jimin says, “Because you have a bad back.”

“Yah, that brat,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, “He makes it sound as though I were sixty.” He shakes his head and carries on. “I have developed somewhat chronic back pain because I'm mostly tied to this desk. My doctor said I need to strengthen and stretch the muscles more. And Jungkook-ah recommended you.” Jimin nods, though he looks a little curious. “Wouldn't yoga or pilates be better suited for that?”

“I tried yoga,” Yoongi admits. “But it just made me aggressive.”

“Yoga... made you aggressive?”

“That 'breathe and relax' shit doesn't work for me,” Yoongi explains, the swearword easily slipping out of him. “Just made me annoyed at everyone else in the class.”

“There are different variations, though,” Jimin tells him. “Some focus more on endurance and strength, like power yoga.”

“Look, do you want this job?” Yoongi asks, “Jungkook-ah told me you could always do with some extra money.”

“Ah,” Jimin looks chagrined. “I guess I do.”

“Good,” Yoongi nods, though he has half a mind to call this whole thing off. “I can only do Tuesdays and Sundays, though.”

“What time?”

“Late, of course. Maybe eight?”

“I'll have to check whether I can reserve us a room at the studio.”

“No need,” Yoongi says. “I have no time to drive around town. My living-room is big enough; we can meet there. It's not far from here.

“Oh,” Jimin says, surprised. “That works, too, I guess.”

“Good. Have Jungkook-ah give you the details – my address, payment, appointments, etc. If you have any additional questions at some point, just ask him.”

Yoongi sinks down onto his chair again, his vertebrae creaking, and turns back to his papers.

The next weekend, he has almost forgotten about everything. But then his phone beeps to remind him of the appointment and five minutes later the doorbell is already ringing.

“Evening,” Yoongi greets Jimin as he lets him in. “Please come in.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says, slipping out of his shoes and neatly setting them aside. There is a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, but other than that his outfit isn't much different from earlier that week.  He isn't subtle about eyeing Yoongi, though, who is still dressed in his fitted suit.

“I just got home ten minutes ago,” Yoongi explains, waving him into the hallway. “Haven't even had dinner yet.”

“You work on Sundays?” Jimin asks and Yoongi scoffs.

“I work every day.”

“Sounds tough,” Jimin muses, “Now I get why Jungkookie calls you a slave driver.”

Yoongi's mouth falls open but he quickly snaps his shut again.

“That little...,” he growls, though he can't really find it in him to be really offended. Jeon Jungkook was his secretary, assistant and protegé, and Yoongi expected utmost dedication of all of his workers. And of himself. A business such as theirs was not run on complacency.

They are in the living-room now, and Jimin lets his eyes draw along the hardwood floors and minimalist furniture that Yoongi had paid someone else to pick out.

“This'll do,” Jimin agrees with Yoongi's earlier verdict. “Go get changed, get a towel and a drink, and we'll begin.”

“Can't I sit down and eat something first?” Yoongi asks.

“No. Your body will just get more tired,” Jimin knows, “And you might throw up.”

Yoongi frowns. “'the fuck are you gonna do to me?”

But Jimin just smiles. “Work you hard.”

Despite Jimin's words, they start slow.

He doesn't want to risk further injury to Yoongi's back, so they start with an easy warm-up first, getting Yoongi reacquainted with all his muscles and the joints that he only knows because they click so much.

There are a few things Yoongi learns about himself:

he cannot touch his toes

he is even less suited to dancing than he is to yoga

he likes the way Jimin's own body twists through the exercises in fluid grace

“Damn,” Yoongi says by the end of it because his entire body hurts but in a way that can only be described as pleasant. He used to play basketball in high school and had always enjoyed that lingering burn, but he had never known to miss it. He suspects he is going to change his tune by tomorrow morning, at the latest, when he has to fight his way out of bed, but perhaps Jungkook's idea had been a good one after all. Not that Yoongi was going to admit that.

“Okay,” Jimin says at length, hands on his hips and giving a decisive nod. “I think we're done for the day.”

They had been at it for about one and a half hours and Yoongi doesn't think he could even go a minute longer. His spine feels as though it would very much like to burst from his back.

“Thank God,” Yoongi moans, wiping the sweat of his temple. The dance moves had all seemed deceptively simply, especially when performed by Jimin, but then Yoongi had found himself struggling to follow. Even the cool-down exercises had been a challenge all of their own. Jimin, in the meanwhile, is barely even out of breath.

“Have a shower, eat something light, and get a good night's rest,” he instructs Yoongi, “And then I'll see you on Tuesday.”

Part of Yoongi wants to tell him no, wants to make up a bullshit excuse and cancel all further appointments. But Min Yoongi is no quitter and so he just nods and watches Jimin leave.

Weeks pass, and Yoongi gets strangely used to his new routine. Half of the time, he wants to bash his head against his desktop when he remembers that he has lessons in the evening, but once Jimin is putting him through the paces again, he finds that he rather enjoys himself.

His back pain, while not miraculously vanished, has already gotten much better, as have his joints and his entire posture. The weight that used to sit on his chest, and the pressure that had settled all over his skeleton had slowly been alleviated, until Yoongi did no longer felt as though each step was torture.

He's been cutting down on the pain killers and the sleeping pills and the alcohol. The other day he even walked to the office when the weather was nice, and when one of Jimin's favorite songs had started playing on the radio one time, Yoongi had even danced along a little, in the safety of his kitchen.

Jimin himself had turned into much more than just a dance instructor. He admonished Yoongi on his unhealthy diet, his irregular sleep schedule, and his choice of footwear, recommending a different brand that would better support his steps. He had even brought Yoongi some herbal tea that was supposed to relax mind and muscles, and Yoongi had resisted at first but now drank it religiously before going to bed each night.

The biggest change, however, was the gradual familiarity that had developed between them. Yoongi knew what kind of music Jimin preferred dancing to, knew which classes he was teaching at the studio, knew the way droplets of sweat pearled down along Jimin's temples when he went all out.

Yoongi, in turn, had made some concessions of his own. When he had been late from work one Tuesday he had come home to find Jimin shivering in the drizzle, Yoongi had simply given him a key set and permission to simply let himself if whenever Yoongi wasn't home yet.

And that is, perhaps, what ends up changing things the most.

Yoongi knows that Jimin is already there by the way the windows in his living-room are illuminated when he parks his car and glances up along the side of the building. He knows it by the rhythmic beats that spill out underneath the door before he even unlocks it. He knows it by the soft tread of feet on wood as he steps out of the hallway and sees Jimin lost to the music.

Jimin dances with a kind of abandon that is unfamiliar to someone like Yoongi. Because Yoongi knew hard work, he knew drive and dedication and the struggle that came with becoming the best version of yourself. But he does not know passion, not like this.

Jimin dances as though he had never known anything else, dances the way other people breathe - unconsciously, freeing, life-affirming.

Finally, he does a half-turn and spots Yoongi leaning against the door frame, simply watching him.

“Oh,” Jimin says, coming to an abrupt halt. “You should have said something.”

Yoongi shakes his head with a lopsided smile.

“You're good at that,” he says, pushing himself away and walking further into the room.

Jimin snorts.

“I better be,” he says, carding the hair out of his face. “I've been doing this since I was a little kid.”

“Some things can't be taught,” Yoongi knows. For some reason, he cannot help but remember their very first meeting, stilted and unfamiliar as they had been. Back then he had been wearing a suit as well while Jimin had been in his comfortable workout clothes. Yet everything else is different not.

He pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek and thinks for a moment.

“What are you doing on Friday?” he asks at length and Jimin frowns.

“Friday? Do you have to reschedule one of our sessions?”

“No,” Yoongi says. “But I'd like to take you to my favorite restaurant, if you have time.”

A look of surprise passes over Jimin's face but it is quickly replaced by quiet pleasure.

“Friday sounds good,” he says, and Yoongi smiles. It seemed he'd have to give Jungkook that raise after all.

[dawnstruck]

BTS Drabble Masterpost

BTS Drabble Masterpost

Yoonmin

#1 Jimin taking care of sick Yoongi

#2 The moment Jimin realizes he is in love

#3 Angry kisses, jealousy, pet names

#4 Stolen kisses in secret

#5 Power bottom!Yoongi (NSFW)

#6 Yoonmin in Daegu, after Jikook in Tokyo

#7 First time + fingering (NSFW)

#8 Yoonmin getting caught

#9 Jealous Yoongi

#10 Coming out to their parents

#11 Yoongi taking care of drunk Jimin

#12 Inspired by Little Mix – Secret Love Song

#13 Insecure Jimin + soft Yoongi

#14 Future fic/kidfic

#15 CEO!Yoongi and dance teacher!Jimin

#16 Sleepy sex and snow (NSFW)

#17 revealing releationship after hiding it for years

#18 Inspired by Ed Sheeran - Friends

#19 breakup for the greater good + public apology

#20 post-breakup + serenading the other in public

#21 Outsider POV + domestic

#22 Wall sex/sex standing up (NSFW)

#23 Sparks fly at reunion after disbandment

#24 Character Death

Taekook

#1 Holding hands at the AMAs

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin drabble #6

“People think you're dating,” Yoongi says before Jimin has even set his bags down. “I- what?” he asks in confusion, straightening up again, glancing at Yoongi who is sitting on the couch in the living-room.

“People think you and Jungkookie are dating,” Yoongi explains, lowering his tablet. “Because of the video.”

Jimin cannot help but snort.

“People always think we're dating,” he points out. “I once helped Joon-hyung up when he slipped on the stage, and people thought that meant were are dating.”

“But this is different,” Yoongi insists and his pout is more adorable than he probably intends. “These people aren't ARMY.”

“What do you mean?” Jimin frowns. He's slipping his jacket off his shoulders and joining Yoongi on the couch, leaning into his side so he can look at whatever Yoongi's been viewing on his tablet.

“There.” Yoongi points to one of the comments underneath the G.C.F. in Tokyo video on Youtube. “People think it's one of those LGBT support trailers – or even your honeymoon! Here, there's another one.”

Jimin barely has time to skim the English words when Yoongi is already scrolling down. Unsurprisingly, the comments by unsuspecting viewers who didn't know anything about BTS and merely took the clip for a couple's travel log got the most upvotes, which only made fans lose their minds over them.

“Yoongi-yah,” Jimin sighs, nudging his cold tip of his nose against Yoongi's cheekbone. “Kookie just did a really good job with the video. It's so obvious how much effort he put into it and, to a lot of people, that's translates into something other than brotherly love.”

“I take sweet pictures of you, too,” Yoongi mutters. “I just don't share them with anyone.”

“And I like it that way,” Jimin tells him. There was already so much of their lives that was publicized. This, at least, he wanted to keep between them, precious and private. For a few moments, they sit in silence. The tablet's screen dims and then blackens, taking with it the thousands of views and comments, the hours Jungkook spent on filming and editing everything.

Yoongi usually does not get this maudlin about the secrecy and the hiding. Usually, he agrees with Jimin and the rest of Bangtan that revealing their relationship was too much, too early, too risky. Before they even got together, they promised each other that the group would always come first, no matter how much it hurt at times.

But, every now and then, it hurt a lot.

“Hey,” Jimin says, quietly, his eyes searching the downward pinch of Yoongi's mouth and the slump  of his shoulders, and there really only one solution. “How about we go honeymooning, too?”

It's not a honeymoon, of course. They don't get married and they don't fly off to an exciting place, they don't even leave for longer than just the weekend, but it's still the best idea they've had in a while.

It doesn't take long to pack their packs, only slightly longer to sit on the train that takes them to Daegu. They sit huddled together on the seats, hats drawn low into their face and keeping their voices down so no one recognizes them. They'd been lucky to get a few days off at all but, with their upcoming trip to the States, they all deserved a bit of a breather.

When Yoongi's brother comes to pick them up at the station, he hugs Yoongi and then he hugs Jimin, all smiles and easy welcome, and Jimin feels a little less bad about not having visited his own family more than a couple of weeks.

The car drive is quiet, all three of them content to let conversation rest, because they'd be rehashing all of it later over dinner anyway when Yoongi's parents were there as well. The two are still working at the restaurant, though, so Yoongi and Jimin go to set themselves up in Yoongi's room, small and cramped as it is.

“Looks like we'll have to share the bed,” Jimin sighs and then giggles when Yoongi tackles him onto the mattress.

The next two days pass in a blur of colors.

Yoongi has brought his camera along and he fiddles with it constantly, adjusting the settings to capture each moment perfectly. So he takes pictures of Jimin by the lake, his nose and cheeks reddened by the cold, golden leaves at his feet. Pictures of Jimin pressing his face into Holly's fur, dropping kisses on his forehead. Pictures of Jimin helping Yoongi' father in the kitchen and pictures of Jimin laughing with his mother. He takes pictures of Jimin in his town and in his house and with his family, as though he were trying to fill an entire photo album with snapshots of his fondest memories.

And later, when they lie in a bed that is too narrow, and Jimin is still bare and breathless and bordering on obscene, he takes pictures of that, too.

“You gonna put those on Insta?” Jimin asks teasingly. His eyes are narrow slits, like those of a cat who is lounging in the sun, but his teeth are sharp like a lion's.

“Nah,” Yoongi says, looking down at the display once more before setting the camera aside and placing a palm against the fast pulse in Jimin's neck. “People might think that we're dating.”

When they kiss, he is smiling.

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin drabble #23

Idly, Yoongi wonders whether the others can tell.

It seems so obvious, from the way he watches Jimin across the rim of his wine glass. How Jimin  laughs and throws his back and exposes the dip of his collarbones. How he cracks up at everyone's jokes but his eyes always linger on Yoongi, as though knowing exactly that Yoongi is looking  back.

Yoongi catches how Taehyung has to hide a grin in the palm of his hand, how Namjoon raises his eyebrows and turns his face away, as though keeping himself from making a snarky comment. Hoseok's is the only one who doesn't bother to be subtle about it, his head zapping back and forth as he watches their interactions, the smile on his lips growing bigger and bigger.

So perhaps Yoongi doesn't need to wonder. Perhaps it is answer enough.

Had it always been like that? Had there always been a little something that got swept under the rug in favor of music and concerts and fanmeets and interviews? There's none of that now, no stress, no threat of scandals, just a few bottles of wine and soju shared between old friends, the Seoul night sky spread out above their heads as they sit on Seokjin's terrace and reminisce.

It's not the first time they met up since their disbandment. But there was always something else to keep them occupied: Seokjin's wedding, Hoseok's injury, Jungkook's mixtape and subsequent accusations of plagiarization.

Now, it's just them and the stars and some good food in their bellies because Seokjin still loved to splurge when it came to feeding them, and the night is still young but this feeling isn't.

Jungkook says something that turns into a huge yawn and Taehyung has bundled up in the blanket he stole from Seokjin's couch, getting a little too comfortable on the lounge chair and looking ready to drop off to sleep.

“Guess it's time to head out, huh?” Namjoon says, glancing toward Seokjin whose eyes are looking small.

“Oh!” Seokjin says, quickly perking up again. “You don't have to.”

“No no,” Hoseok agrees with Namjoon. “Let's clear the table and get going. It'll wake us up a little.”

It does. Between the seven of them, tidying up and taking care of the dirty dishes barely takes fifteen minutes. Taehyung folds his blanket, Namjoon searches for his phone, Hoseok disappears in the bathroom, and Yoongi plays with the keys in his pocket.

“You need a ride?” he asks lowly, watching as Jimin checks his reflection in front of the mirror.

Jimin just throws him a sideways look.

“You drank quite bit, hyung,” he warns.

“I'll walk you then.”

“My hotel is in the opposite direction.”

“It'll sober me up and then I can get my car on the way back.”

Jimin gives a slow smile, steps a little closer.

“Looking for excuses to spend time with me?” he teases. His voice is quiet as though he doesn't want the others to overhear.

Yoongi shrugs. “You barely get out of Busan these days. I thought we could catch up.”

“We just talked for hours.”

“That's different.” The urge to fidget is easy to resist; the alcohol is making him bold. “It's different when everyone is there.”

Jimin's smile only grows wider. “You want to be alone with me, hyung?”

“That a crime now?”

For a moment, Jimin looks at him with steady eyes. Then he turns away. “Put on your shoes, hyung,” he says. “It's a fifteen minute walk.”

They say their goodbyes, hugging everyone, making promises to text, to call, to meet up soon. When they leave together, no one bothers to comment, though that probably changes the moment the door closes behind them.

They walk down the stairs and onto the street, bypassing Yoongi's car parked on the curb. At this time of night, the street lamps are more gold than yellow and Jimin glows with each step he takes through their halo, passing between light and shadow like a creature out of dreams.

Yoongi walks half a step behind him, keeps his chin close to his chest but his eyes on the curve of Jimin's ear. He can tell when Jimin begins to turn his head, but he does not bother to look away. Jimin's cheeks dimple when he catches his gaze, as though having found a final confirmation to an unasked question, and then he slows a little, allows Yoongi to catch up with him.

Their hands brush in a calculated move and when their fingers tangle together it is no surprise.

For a while, neither of them says anything, content in their silence and the warmth of their palms.

“Fifteen minutes is not really enough to have a meaningful conversation,” Jimin muses aloud.

“Hm,” Yoongi agrees with a grunt.

“I actually have a coffee machine in my room,” Jimin informs him blithely.

“Hmhm,” Yoongi says again, though the tips of his ears tingle with heat.

When Jimin glances over once more, his smile is downright wicked.

“Wanna come up for an Americano?”

Yoongi does.

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #13

“You're beautiful,” Yoongi says, pressing a kiss to the trembling line of Jimin's jaw. “And smart. And funny. And kind. And talented. And hard-working. And gentle.”

With each word, he tries to imprint the the truth onto Jimin's skin in the form of kisses, tries to make them sink deep into his bones until they become an irreversible part of his existence.

“You dance so gracefully, and sing so confidently, and you always intuitively know how to interpret my songs,” Yoongi praises, his fingers playing with the hair that curls over Jimin's cheekbones. “Your aegyo is the cutest but, whenever you want to be, you are the sexiest. Your voice is my absolute favorite.”

Jimin's sobs have subsided into something more like sighs but, in between, he'll take a huge shuddering breath and huff it out again, rib cage shaking around his heart where it rests in Yoongi's arms.

“Children love you and fans love you and the staff loves you,” Yoongi says because he has yet to hear of someone who had met Jimin in person without immediately being charmed. “Your parents and your brother love you, and the members love you, too. I love you.”

Jimin laughs, a little wetly, turns his face into Yoongi's shoulder, drying his tears against his shirt.

“I love you without abs and without make-up and without fancy clothes. I love you when you have morning breath and stubble and messy hair. I'll love you when you miss a step or can't hit a high note or sneeze all over yourself again.”

A groan, this time, at the unfortunate reminder, but Yoongi is not deterred so easily.

“I wish I could kiss you for hours. I want to hold you and hide you away and show you off to the world at the same time,” he continues with his paradoxical impossible love. “I want all happiness to be yours and the sun to only shine for you. Sometimes, I touch you with one hand and then the other gets jealous.”

There's a moment of silence; and Jimin may not be crying anymore, but he also isn't looking up, and Yoongi's chest clenches with worry.

“You trust me, right?” he asks, his mouth mumbling against Jimin's hair. “I mean, my opinions on music and my fashion sense, usually, and my overall judgment. You trust me?”

Jimin gives a tentative nod, fingers digging into the fabric of Yoongi's shirt.

“Then why can't you trust me on this?” Yoongi asks desperately because, when Jimin doubts himself he is also, in a way, doubting Yoongi's love, his eyes, his honesty.

And finally, finally Jimin looks up. His eyes are swollen and his cheek hot with salt, but his kiss still tastes sweet on Yoongi's lips.

“I'll get there,” Jimin promises and this, at least, is something Yoongi can put his own faith in.

[dawnstruck]

Drabble #8

Warning: this is somewhat angsty because it features blackmail and indirect mentions of homophobia, but there is a happy ending!

“What if we just pay the money?” Namjoon asks and Bang PD sends him a slightly disappointed look.

“It's a slippery slope from mere blackmail to outright extortion,” their producer points out. “If we give them what they want now, they'll just demand more and more. There'd be no end to it.”

Namjoon lowers his gaze but then quickly looks off to the side because there, on the tabletop, lies the incriminating evidence for all the world to see.

They'd been to Daegu, to visit Yoongi's family and, in the afternoon, they had gone to an art gallery.   The pictures had been cut out of security footage and they were slightly blurred, but still recognizable. Not to mention that there was that tweet of a fan going around who had seen them in town that weekend, and the fact that they themselves had never even acknowledged the impromptu trip.

But for three days, the world had still been whole. Then, the plain unmarked manila folder reached the company, like a prop from some bad film noir, and all hell broke lose.

Whoever had sent the pictures must have been working for the art gallery, so they could sue for libel and and invasion of privacy and whatnot. But that would be little more than a form of revenge disguised as justice. What they needed now was a miracle.

Yoongi should probably be contributing to the conversation but, so far, only Bang PD, Namjoon and Seokjin had said much of anything. The other members are there are well, sitting around the coffee table, but they are all pale and silent. Jungkook is has his knees drawn up to his chest and is chewing on his fingernails. Even Hoseok can't seem to summon an encouraging smile to lighten the mood. Jimin sits sunken into Taehyung's side; his eyes are red but he's not actually crying, as though he knows how futile it would be.

Yoongi just feels numb.

“What if we set one of them up with a girl?” Seokjin asks. His long fingers are plucking a paper handkerchief into sad snowflakes that rain down between his feet. “If they look like they are dating someone else, it might take the attention away.”

“Or it will just highlight that we are trying to hide something.” Bang PD crosses his arms in front of his chest. “None of you have ever publicly dated anyone else before. If one of you suddenly does, and then it's followed up by those pictures, it'll all fall apart.”

He sighs, shakes his head, before glancing over Jimin and then Yoongi.

“I cannot help but think this is my fault,” he notes and the truth of it is right there in how dejected he sounds. “You know I cannot forbid you from being together, and I don't want to either. But I should have been stricter.”

In reality, however, things had already been strict enough. They'd curbed down on the skinship and the fan service; they rarely got grouped together for games and events, and they didn't share hotel rooms. Even their subunit remained as nothing but a vague promise, despite all the songs Yoongi had tailored to the image of Jimin's voice in his head.

Perhaps, they should have approached it differently from the getgo. Other groups' popularity relied heavily on fan service of all kinds, members constantly kissing and touching each other. Bangtan had tried it in the beginning and found it distracted from the music they wanted to produce. They had made it to the top, despite all the naysayers, and somewhere along the way Park Jimin had danced and stumbled his way into Min Yoongi's heart and grown roots.

And they'd been careful, so so careful, because they knew there were eyes and cameras everywhere. But that day, when they found themselves on the otherwise empty floor of a fancy gallery with gorgeous light installations and postmodern art, Jimin had posed next to an abstract painting, laughing and pulling faces, and Yoongi just couldn't resist but kiss and kiss and kiss him.

“I'm sorry,” Yoongi says now and then the words keep blubbering out of him. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I should've known, I-”

He buries his face in his palms and then there is a hand on his shoulder and he knows it must be Jin's, but he wishes that it were Jimin's instead. But Yoongi wanting to be close to him was what had led them to this very moment because someone had taken their gossamer love and spun the noose with which they were to hang themselves.

“Okay, this might seem like an even worse idea,” Namjoon says suddenly, making everyone look at him. “But what if we just don't?”

“Don't what?” Hoseok asks.

“Don't play into it,” Namjoon shrugs. “Or don't play by their rules. Maybe they made the first move, but we just have to take down their queen.”

Bang PD frowns. “What are you thinking?”

“It's 2018,” Namjoon says. He's wringing his hands now but he does not back down. “We won a ton of awards. We have millions of fans and a world tour ahead of us. And we have the support of our company,” he adds with a look at their mentor. “Don't we?”

“You do,” Bang BD says quietly. For a long moment, he looks contemplative.

“Most of your fans are under thirty,” he muses aloud. “And times are changing. In fact, I think, you are changing times. If anyone can pull it off, it's you.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, and he sounds more bewildered than desolate, so that's an improvement.

“Someone can hold a gun to your head, but it won't do much if you already took their ammunition,” Bang PD says. “Whoever sent these pictures either wants money from us or from whatever media outlet they sell them to. Now, let's imagine that the news of Yoongi-yah and Jimin-ah dating were no longer news – that would probably lower the market value of those photos, hm?”

It takes a moment for realization to sink in but, when it does, Yoongi's mouth falls opens.

“You mean-?” he croaks, only for his voice to give out.

Bang PD nods. “Let's dry your tears and set up a camera, kids. We're breaking the internet, a number of taboos, and several hearts tonight, I think. There’s no harm in looking pretty doing it.”

“Hi!” Jimin says, waving at the camera. If you cared to look closely, his eye are still slightly reddened but his smile is sweet and his make up immaculate. “Surprise, everyone – Yoongi-hyung and I are doing a vlive together today.”

“Yo,” Yoongi says, lifting a hand in greeting. He's trying to look nonchalant but his heart is racing in his chest.

“People have been asking us about when the two of us will finally form a subunit,” Jimin continues. “And the truth is that we have already been working on it for a while now.”

“We just weren't sure whether the world was ready for it yet,” Yoongi adds.

“But we realized that, with some things in life, you can't always wait for the world to catch up with you,” Jimin explains and his hand reaches for Yoongi's. “Sometimes you have to carve your own path, or you'll just end up getting lost.”

“There are always going to be people who don't like what you do, people who try to hurt you and people who'll try to silence your voice.” Yoongi nods to himself, squeezing Jimin's fingers. “So you need to surround yourself with those who love you for who you are.”

“Right,” Jimin says, even though the word sounds slightly damp. Yoongi turns his head and, sure enough, Jimin's eye lashes are glistening with unshed tears but at least it’s for a different reason. Yoongi smiles.

“I love you, Park Jimin,” he says and this time, when he kisses him, he makes extra sure that the camera catches all of it.

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #12

Little Mix - Secret Love Song

When Yoongi is trying to write lyrics and running himself into walls with some lines, Jimin steals the sharpie from his fingers and draws stars on his bare skin instead, until Yoongi can write again.

On stage, Yoongi does not sing about love.

There sits a mole on Yoongi's chest that Jimin has painted a new constellation around, and it looks like a heart.

“What is this song about?” the radio MC wants to know, and Yoongi stares down the microphone on the table in front of him so it won't pull the truth from his tongue.

“A good friend,” he says, “And the sacrifices we make.”

“Can I borrow your shirt, hyung?” Jimin asks, already tugging it over his head and mussing up his hair.

“I haven't washed that yet,” Yoongi points out.

“I know,” Jimin says and presses its collar against his nose.

“You guys share clothes a lot, right?” an interviewer for a fashion magazine knows. “Do you have any preferences on what you pick?”

“Ah,” Yoongi scratches the back of his ear. “Jimin-ah and I have the same size, so.”

“It's convenient,” Jimin pipes up.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees. “Convenient.”

They order take-out and Jimin puts a candle on the small table between them. The others are having dinner together in the kitchen, as usual when they all have the evening off.

“We haven't had a date in ages,” Jimin had claimed when he dragged Yoongi off to his room.

We haven't had a date in ever, Yoongi thinks but, here, he at least gets to hold Jimin's hand.

“How would you set up the perfect date for you girlfriend?”

“A date is perfect as soon as it's with someone you love.”

“Oh no,” Jimin says, sounding appalled, and Yoongi pulls back, though his mouth still tingles.

“What?”

“I lost count,” Jimin replies miserably, giving a big sigh.

“Of what?”

“Of our kisses,” Jimin says as though it were obvious. “You distracted me.”

“Guess we'll have to start again then,” Yoongi teases, leaning back in.

“No, you don't understand,” Jimin claims, but he still accepts the new kiss that is being lavished onto his lips. “I've been counting since the very first.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says, drawing up short. “How many did you get?”

“Not enough,” Jimin knows and pulls him in.

Jimin laughs, his hands coming up to cup Yoongi's cheeks, but he stops himself at the last moment, turns away again.

Yoongi does not even glance at him, just keeps talking to the reporter, because the glare of the camera is always there.

“I'd love to have a garden,” Jimin says, scrolling through highly saturated pictures on Instagram. “Or at least a balcony. I want a nice bathtub and a big mirror for dance practice and a fancy coffee machine.”

“I'll get you a coffee machine for your birthday,” Yoongi promises, hooking his chin over Jimin's shoulder. On the screen, Jimin's secret account likes photos of dogs and sofas and fairy lights, and Yoongi's secret dreams like the idea of the two of them living together like that one day.

Where do you see yourself in five years, ten years, fifteen years, what are your plans for the future, where will you be?

“The details change but the essence stays the same,” Yoongi says, ponders it for a moment. “I think I'd like a small garden.”

Jimin dances and tosses his head back, Jimin showers and brushes the wet hair from his face, Jimin laughs and comes all over his belly. He is infuriatingly manifold in his beauty, like a kaleidoscope, new colors at each twist and turn.

“I wish I were a painter,” Yoongi murmurs against the perfection of Jimin's seashell ear, “I wish I were more of a poet.”

Yet the only word he can think of when trying to describe Jimin is an avaricious little Mine.

Jimin sways and dances on the screen, makes his spine bend and his eyes smolder, and Yoongi loses his breath to his own jealousy, because he hates that he has to share.

Sometimes, he misses Jimin's crooked tooth and his chubby cheeks and the ink of his black hair. But then Jimin smiles and it is as though nothing ever changed.

“What's your ideal type?” the hundredth host asks for the thousandth time.

“I think that, when you love someone,” Yoongi says, “Everything about them grows beautiful.”

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asks when Jimin is drawing crosses all over Yoongi's body, his neck, his collarbone, his thighs.

“Memorizing the spots where I would leave marks if I were allowed,” Jimin says, running a thumb over his handiwork.

For a moment, Yoongi just looks at him. Then he takes the pen, takes Jimin's hand and draws a crooked little circle around his fourth finger.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asks now, watching with a curious frown.

Yoongi smiles, though he knows it must look a little sad.

“Asking a question as if you could say yes,” he replies and kisses the ring he put on Jimin's hand.

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #19

Warnings for mentions of eating disorders!

Jimin smiles when Yoongi tells him. It's a terrible smile, stretched too wide and slanted like a flesh wound, so gory that Yoongi cannot look at it for long, cuts his gaze away to land on a piece of thread on his shirtsleeve where the stitches are coming undone. His fingers pick at it, nervously, but only make it worse.

“I'm sorry,” he says, finally, after all the stumbling repetitions of 'you have to understand' and 'this hurts me, too' and 'I love you, but'.

“It's okay, hyung,” Jimin says and the lack of Yoongi's name on his tongue shouldn't been as glaring as it is. “I know you only want what's best.”

There's something about that phrasing, something of the shy insecurity that often hides itself behind  Jimin's clavicle, some of the self-deprecating jokes and days spent dieting himself into fainting spells and skinny wrists.

What is best, in this world?

It's a song polished to perfection between Yoongi's hungry teeth. It's the thrill of standing on a stage with dozens of lights above and thousands of people in front of him, swaying to his music as the tides follow the moon. It's Jimin reaching his hands skyward, the pulse in his blue-blooded veins turned against the sun like a prayer, laughing and laughing at something Hoseok just said and catching Yoongi's eye to multiply his joy.

But not all that is best for Yoongi is best for Bangtan.

The decision is quite like biting off a limb caught in a bear trap, without knowing whether it will ensure survival.

“Yeah,” he says, wiping off his clammy palms on his jeans. “I guess I... I'll leave you alone then.”

He stands up, does not allow himself to look back, and steps out of the room, quietly closing the door. His heart remains, crippled and small.

Yoongi bites his lips bloody and tears at his cuticles. Yoongi snaps at Jungkook when he tries to cheer him up, and flips off Namjoon who asks what the fuck his deal is lately. Yoongi burns an entire book of half-written songs.

When they eat dinner together, he keeps his eyes to himself.

“Where's Jiminie?” Seokjin asks when Taehyung slouches into a chair across the table.

“He said he's not hungry,” Taehyung says, already fidgeting with his chopsticks.

“He already said that yesterday,” Jin mutters under his breath but then, louder, he asks, “Did he have breakfast?”

Silence because no one knows the answer. Silence because that answers the real question.

“I don't know what brought this on,” Hoseok shakes his head, picks at his own food. “He seemed so happy this year.”

Yoongi ducks his head, hair falling into his eyes. In his mouth, the spices taste like dirt.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Namjoon asks, turned toward Jungkook and Taehyung but the two shrug.

“He just pulls the hyung card and laughs it off,” Jungkook says, squinting to the side. “He always comes home late from the studio, too, and then he just crashes.”

“He hasn't been drinking too much, has he?” Seokjin asks, and now everyone's eyes are on Yoongi.

“I dunno.” Yoongi hunches up his shoulders. “Not like I'm his keeper.”

“No, but at least he listens to you.” Namjoon says, rubbing his forehead. In moments like these, the leadership sits upon his shoulders like a heavy cross. “Whenever Jin-hyung or I reprimand him, he just smiles and agrees, and then keeps going like before.”

“I'll talk to him,” Yoongi relents because he knows that the others would only get suspicious if he tried to weasel his way out of this. And, Yoongi admits to himself, it's not like he no longer loves, worries, cares. “But I can't promise anything.”

“I'm fine,” Jimin says. In the yellow light the blue bruises under his eyes look sickly and green. The shadows sit in his gaunt cheeks like unpleasant memories.

“You're running yourself into the ground,” Yoongi says and scuffs his heel against the linoleum floor. Perhaps the hallway outside the dance studio isn't the best place to do this, but the dorm probably wouldn't be much better. Their love had always happened behind closed doors; here, there is room to run away.

“We're worried,” Yoongi tells him. “The group-”

“Right,” Jimin cuts him off with a sharp nod. “The group. The members. The fans. The company. The awards. The press. The music. The world. I get it.”

“That's not what I meant,” Yoongi says. His throat feels very tight and it's difficult to get the words out.

Jimin tugs the strap of his loose tank top back over his shoulder, almost violent in the way he does it. He must be cold out here; he had been dancing before Yoongi interrupted him.

“I have to go back to training now,” Jimin says. He turns so abruptly that his heels squeak on the floor. “We have a concert next week.”

Yoongi licks his lips.

“Can you at least try to be back home for dinner?” he asks tentatively. “Hyung is making chicken.”

“I'll try,” Jimin says, shouldering the door to the practice room open. “But I can't promise anything.”

When Jimin slips, it is almost expected. There are always little mishaps during concerts – people lose their shoes or drop their microphones or stumble into each other, and it's not even the first time that one of them blacked out for just a few seconds.

But Jimin slips and then Jimin wavers and then Jimin is crashing down, just barely caught by Taehyung who happens to be dancing next to him. They are all so tune with each other, that it halts the choreography at once, everyone swiveling around to see what has happened, even as it becomes glaringly obvious that Jimin has actually fainted.

There's an uproar from the sea of people, a collective gasp that rolls its way toward the stage, and then the music cuts off.

Namjoon gestures at a stagehand to turn off their mics as well and then he crouches down in front of Taehyung and Jimin who is slowly blinking himself back into consciousness.

“Jiminie, can you hear me?” Namjoon asks. Hoseok and Jungkook are already reassuring the fans with little platitudes, though they keep throwing worried looks over their shoulders.

Jimin, unfortunately, is having none of it.

“I'm fine,” he waves them away as though his eyes didn't look glazed. As though he hadn't used the exact same words a mere week ago to already brush Yoongi off. As though it weren't a lie.

“Do you need to get off-stage?” Namjoon asks seriously.

“No no,” Jimin shakes his head, minutely. Perhaps too much movement is making him dizzy.

“Drink something,” Seokjin urges, holding a plastic bottle to his lips and Jimin obeys, his Adam's apple bopping with each quick gulp.

Yoongi's hands ache with his inability to do anything, but his legs feel weak with the instinct to kneel, to press his forehead against the stage and beg for absolution.

It's not enough, he knows, and when Jimin happens to glance at him, glance over him and then away, he knows it even more.

“Can you stand?” Seokjin wants to know and, after another nod, he and Taehyung are leveling Jimin up, helping him back on his feet.

“Thank you,” Jimin says, getting himself back in order while Taehyung stands behind him, fixing the mic box where it has slipped from his belt.

“Fuck, Jimin,” Namjoon says. He keeps himself angled away from the crowd, but he sounds angry. “You can't starve your problems away.”

Jimin's gaze shutters and he pastes on a smile.

“I can try,” he says and then he is already pushing past them and waving to the audience to convince them of his well-being.

“Damn it,” Namjoon hisses and it's a sentiment that is echoed in all of their face, though with small variations. They'd all love to call off the concert, to at least send Jimin backstage for a number of songs, but they cannot exactly force him.

“Sorry for the scare, everyone!” Jimin calls out to the audience, once their mics are back on. “I got a little dizzy there – our dance routines are terrifying, aren't they?”

There are shouts of agreement from the crowd, some laughter, but also pleas for him to be careful, that he does not have to worry for them but the other way round.

Oh, Yoongi thinks with sudden clarity. Because if Jimin won't listen to reason, then maybe he will listen to love.

“Can I just say something?” he asks, lifting his hand as though he were some shitty little kid back in school. “There's- there's something I need Jiminie to know.”

Jimin, surprised, turns around to look at him. His stance is carefully guarded, obviously not knowing what to expect. The others are there, too, at the fringes of the moment, and the audience is right in front of them with bated breath. Yoongi swallows, fingers clenching around his microphone.

“I made a mistake,” he says and his throat aches all the way down into his chest. “When I- When I said what I said.”

When I told you our fame was more important than our happiness.

Jimin's eyes widen but his smile stays secure.

“Hyung, it's fine!” he says cheerily, “I'm fine.”

“You're not,” Yoongi shakes his head. “And when you're hurting yourself, you're hurting me, too.”

There's another round of whispers from the crowd, an aborted motion from Namjoon as he seems to clue in on where this is going, that it is too personal for what they should put on stage.

But this is the inverse of their break-up. This is Yoongi making things right.

“I'm sorry,” he says now, and he says it to the members and to the fans and to the staff and whoever he is disappointing tonight in one way or the other. But the real apology, the unspoken one, goes to someone else. “I'm in love with Jimin-ah and he is in love with me.”

Chaos. A mayhem of screams and gasps and Yoongi's heart sitting in his mouth, and then suddenly Jimin is in his arms, sobbing.

Across his shoulder, Yoongi can see the disbelieving faces of the others because they had no idea, they had no idea, Jimin and Yoongi had been kissing and making love and sneaking out to watch the stars for weeks, and no one even noticed, no one suspected, it was only when they started tearing themselves apart on their pain that things finally went wrong.

And Yoongi knows it is his fault, in a way, but in this very moment he cannot bring himself to care.

“Thank you,” Jimin cries against his chest. “Thank you.”

So strange, Yoongi thinks, that he is crying now when he had been smiling during their breakup.

He places his palm against the back of Jimin's neck and breathes.

“You're the best thing in my world, Park Jimin,” he say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And don't ever let me tell you otherwise.”

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #17

“It was challenging,” Yoongi says, feeling Jimin nod beside him. “To be in love but not allowed to show it... that's really tough.”

In Korea, idols generally had to hide if they were dating. Gay men had to hide if they were dating. Gay idols... well. The maths was easily done.

“In the beginning, we hid it from everyone,” Jimin explains. “When we... when we first kissed, it felt like a spur of the moment thing. We were a little drunk and afterwards we just laughed it off. But. The truth was, the tension had been there for a while.”

“We sneaked around for a few weeks,” Yoongi remembers what had felt terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. “Nearly got caught. Decided to break it off.” He takes a deep breath, trying to school his features. He and Jimin had mutually agreed that it was for the best, but that still hadn't stopped Jimin from crying his eyes out and Yoongi from locking himself away in his studio for days on end.

“That's easier said than done when the other person is just constantly there,” he adds. And they perhaps managed to hide their broke hearts from the cameras, but that didn't mean their friends didn't notice that some rift had developed between them. “Eventually, we just – that sounds so stupid now but – we sat down with the other members and basically asked for their permission.”

The others had been varying degrees of surprised and accepting. Hoseok and Taehyung had been screaming and laughing mostly, until Namjoon had severely sobered the mood by congratulating them and following it up by pointing out how dangerous all of it was.

“We compromised on telling our producers and managers who were mostly very understanding,” Jimin says. “They warned us, of course, but they also knew that supporting us would be the best way to go.”

A forced break-up would have hurt the team dynamic. A hostile environment would had made them spiteful. Bighit did not want a scandal but they also did not want to lose the figureheads of their company. And, as the boys had made it very clear, if Jimin and Yoongi had to leave, they all would.

“We came up with a battle plan, really,” Yoongi purses his lips. “We were still allowed to interact, of course, but our screen time together was limited. Sometimes, we played up the fan service with other members, as a distraction.”

“But other than that, we were just like regular couples,” Jimin say reveals with a little laugh. “We went on dates, we held hands, we visited each others' families. Sometimes, we grew reckless and had to be reminded to be more careful.”

They were in a good place, of course, compared to some other people. People who had to fear for their lives just because of whom they loved. But the worry was still always there.

“We also had everyone else to consider,” Yoongi points out because someone idiots on the internet and in the news did not seem to understand that this was larger than just two young men who happened to enjoy kissing each other. “There were the other members, obviously, because we didn't want to endanger their careers. But also our managers and stylists and our company in general. A scandal could have made people lose their jobs, could have turned away trainees. We couldn't risk that.”

“On the other hand,” Jimin pipes up, “We also had it easier than other idols who are secretly dating. Because we were actually together all of the time. That can be a challenge all of its own, to date one of your closest friends who is also your roommate and your colleague. You have to find ways to take a break from each other and to even have something to talk about sometimes. But since we were so busy, just being alone together felt like a vacation each time.”

“You learn to count you blessings,” Yoongi agrees. There had been many moments throughout his life that he would not have made it through without Jimin's love, without the support of his friends and the encouragement of his family. Looking back at it made it all feel very far away, but his heart still ached as though it had happened yesterday.

The glare of the spotlight is still upon them now, as are the camera lenses and the curious eyes in the audience, the sharp little nods of the interviewer. Five years ago, he never would have dared to imagine a moment like this, openly admitting to his feelings, to their relationship. But, maybe, the world was a beautiful place after all.

“And that is why,” Jimin says, eagerly grasping Yoongi's hand in his and giving it a tight squeeze before lifting it up for everyone to see, “We would like to announce our engagement.”

The crowd erupts into euphoria and Yoongi can feel the weight lift off his chest.

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #18

Friends by Ed Sheeran

They put no new name to it.

Hyung, Jimin calls him because they are colleagues, they are group members, they are friends.

And Yoongi is starting to hate that word, hate the casual ease with which Jimin uses it. Because Jimin has so many friends, his friends in Busan, his friends from dance class, his friends among the trainees, his friends from GOT7. And the members will of course always be another kind of friends but Yoongi still cannot help but feel a little cheap, feel like one among many, with Jimin the ocean and Yoongi just a grain of sand on the beach.

But he doesn't object when Jimin drags his pillow over into the other hotel bed, doesn't complain when Jimin slips out of his clothes and doesn't bother to put on a night shirt.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. The maknae share beds all the time, cuddle up together as soon as the opportunity arises. No one even blinks anymore when Taehyung lays down next to Jungkook and falls asleep moments later. It's cute. It's cute.

Jimin, twisting on the sheets, his mouth tasting of red wine, is not cute. Jimin, pushing his hips up against Yoongi's and pulling at his hair to deepen their kiss, is nothing but confusing.

Friends don't do that, Yoongi knows, though he suspects that many boys might experiment like this. But an experiment has a strict structure: hypothesis, execution, observation, discussion, conclusion.

If Jimin wanted to find out whether he liked making out with guys, then he should have gathered enough data for an empirical study by now. He should know the answer. So why does he keep returning with more questions?

Today, his question comes in the form of spreading his legs and guiding Yoongi's hand down between them. The answer follows only minutes later in the form of Jimin coming all over himself. The answer is yes, yes, yes.

Friends, Yoongi reminds himself and bites his lips against the urge to chew kiss marks along Jimin's  collarbones. Just friends.

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin drabble #2

It's not a special moment or an exciting one or even the first of its kind. Yoongi sits down at the piano and Jimin pulls out his phone and opens his camera to film him because he likes this, likes sharing the little clips on Kakaotalk, likes going through his files months later and stumbling over them again, likes having the reminder that Yoongi chose to show him his newest compositions. But, somehow, today is different. The lights are turned down a little low and the hour is a little late and the way Yoongi's finger traipse along the keys is a little mesmerizing. It's a lackadaisical melody, one that is at odds with Yoongi's calm expression, the jut of his lower lip and the droop of his eyelids. Yoongi plays the way a green tarn holds a plum blossom afloat – effortless and dancing and unseen surface tension.

“I've tried to write something for you,” he says, suddenly changing the key, his shoulders seeming to broaden as he leans forward more heavily, summoning a melody that is slower and almost regal. Jimin swallows because there is a 'but' caught in that statement. 'But it's not worth the effort.' 'But I'll give it to Jungkook instead.' 'But I don't think you can handle it.' 'But I lost inspiration.'

“But I can't seem to pick just one,” Yoongi explains. “I have like seven songs half-written and then suddenly none of them seem to do you justice.”

Another switch, now high and lofty, almost like a choir of seraphim.

Jimin makes a small helpless noise, lowering his camera.

“You don't have to,” he says, feeling strangely shy all of a sudden. Yet Yoongi just drags his eyes away from the keys to glance over at him. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, as though amused by some private joke.

“I have to,” he says, leaving no room for argument, and turns away again, his fingers never faltering.

Jimin fumbles with his phone, aims it to keep filming properly, even as heat prickles in his cheeks.

He cannot seem to tear his gaze away from Yoongi's hands, steady and wiry and pale like milk. And he knows that the piano had been Yoongi's first love but, in this very moment, Jimin wonders whether perhaps he can be his last.

Send me a prompt and I’ll write a yoonmin drabble for you!

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #14

“Do you want to have an apple or banana for lunch?” Yoongi asks over his shoulder, as he is packing the lunchboxes.

Dae-Hyun pulls a face, his button nose scrunching up, as though neither option sounded all that appealing.

“You have to eat some fruit,” Yoongi reminds him. “Vitamins are important.”

“Apple,” Dae-Hyun decides with a big sigh before turning back to his breakfast, fumbling to get some food into his mouth. He had recently ditched the kiddie chopsticks for regular ones, not wanting to admit that his hands were still too small. “And no peel.”

“Peel stays on, that's where the good stuff is,” Yoongi notes with a small shake of his head before cutting the apple into bite-sized slices. Dae-Hyun was a picky eater, but they had to set some ground rules or else he'd eat nothing but cereal.

In that moment, Jimin comes dancing into the kitchen, literally dancing with Hei-Ran sitting on his hip and giggling in delight.

“Good morning,” Jimin chirps, swaying past Dae-Hyun and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“' 'morning,” Dae-Hyun says around a mouthful of rice and then keeps chewing.

Jimin is freshly showered, his hair still damp, his face bare, but already dressed in a pattered silk shirt which is rarely a good idea when children are having breakfast around you, but Yoongi has long since given up on lecturing him on that.

“You you want an apple or a banana for lunch?” Yoongi asks again, this time glancing over at Jimin who is setting Hei-Ran down in her high-chair, disentangling her fingers from his collar.

“There's catering at the studio,” Jimin reminds him blithely but then he sees Yoongi's glowering look. “Uh. Why don't you just pack both?”

“Great idea,” Yoongi says and finishes wrapping up the last lunchbox.

In a bit, Jimin's manager would come and drive him to the first photoshoot of the day, dropping off Dae-Hyun at school, and then later there was the recording for Jimin's host show, so he'd probably barely get back in time for dinner. Yoongi, in the meanwhile, would take Hei-Ran to the doctor so she could get her shots, then they'd go to the park and enjoy the nice weather and maybe she'd get to pet a dog, and they'd go home so she could have a nap, and Yoongi would tidy around the house because their cleaning lady only came by one a week.

When Hei-Ran woke and was in a good mood, Yoongi would take her into his little studio and work on some tracks, making a big show of asking for her opinion and explaining everything to her, from the tiny buttons on the mixing board over his inspiration to how far he had gotten with the lyrics, even though she could barely understand any of it yet.

Then he'd go pick up Dae-Hyun from school and spent the rest of the afternoon helping him with his homework and playing with him and Hei-Ran, and then he'd cook dinner, and then Jimin walk through the door, and Yoongi would be in love.

The great thing about idol life was that it had been an incredibly good preparation for parenthood. Jimin and Yoongi knew how to take care of the other members of their family while still maintaining their own relationship. They could function on little sleep, always kept a positive attitude, and never swore in front of impressionable ears. Not to mention that Jimin sang the absolute best lullabies, putting the children to sleep and stars into Yoongi's eyes.

Their love had mellowed over the years, but in the best of ways. After the excitement of their early days and their defiance after the reveal of their relationship when they were told that a couple like them would forever be disgraced in the eyes of the public, they had managed to make it work.

Their company and the other members had played a big part in it, as did their music and their fans. No matter what allegations and insults had been flung their way, Park Jimin and Min Yoongi had endured. They were, after all, bulletproof.

And yet, the mere fact, that they had been allowed to adopt had been a nigh-on miracle, and even then the children were officially only Yoongi's, with Jimin being his live-in boyfriend.

But times changed, even in Korea, and bit by bit people grew more accepting, until queer people in the entertainment industry were no longer a taboo but merely a fact of life.

Yoongi, however, had chosen to step out of the spotlight and concentrate on his family, still writing and producing music, but only very rarely making himself available for any sort of publicity. A handful of times, he had starred as a guest in Jimin's show, but other than that he was merely his arm candy on the red carpet.

Now, he sets the lunchboxes aside and finally sits down as well, so he can eat breakfast. Jimin is making sure that Hei-Ran is keeping most of the food in her mouth and Dae-Hyun is playing with his Gameboy underneath the table, though Yoongi lets it go for the time being.

In that moment, his phone vibrates against his thigh and he pulls it out of his pocket, checking the screen and seeing a message from Namjoon.

Check the news, is all it reads and Yoongi frowns, pulling up a news app and taking a moment to scroll through it before the headline jumps straight at him.

Yoongi's mouth falls open, chopstick clicking against the rim of his bowl.

“Something the matter?” Jimin asks, with mild worry in his tone, and Yoongi looks at them from across the table, looks at Hei-Ran's plumb cheeks and Dae-Hyun's chestnut eyes and the laughter lines that have painted themselves across Jimin's face in their past years together.

“They legalized it,” Yoongi says, barely even hearing his own voice, and for a moment Jimin looks dumbstruck as well. Then he gives a big smile.

“Well then, Min Yoongi,” he says, as though there had never been any doubt that this moment would come. “Will you marry me?”

[dawnstruck]

Yoonmin Drabble #20

Other people would perhaps call it petty but Jimin himself likes to think of it as admirable. In any case, he had successfully managed to each and every aspect of Yoongi's career these past few months.

He had carefully selected which events he attended, had declined offers to certain shows, had refused to answer questions regarding his past as an idol, had simply switched the radio channel whenever the name Agust D fell, had blacklisted all his pseudonyms on all his electronics.

It had been both been harder and easier than when he had still been in the military. During his service, he had no cellphone and limited access to the internet, not to mention that Yoongi himself had been stationed at a barracks back in Daegu. But the guys in Jimin's unit had been curious when the first met him, not because he was a world famous kpop idol but because there was no one who could have missed the scandal.

No one had asked outright but Jimin had felt their looks and heard their whispers. Someone were disgusted, some were pitying, and he didn't know which he hated more. But he kept his head down, did his work, and eventually people got used to him.

For two years, Park Jimin was just one soldier among many. For two years, he did not sing.

Now he is back, still not quite used to the spotlight, but perhaps that is just because he is simply walking the red carpet alone these days.

It is also the first award show he is attending where he knows that Yoongi will be present, will be nominated, will perform.

Three years, Jimin reminds himself. Three years since the scandal, since the breakup, since the pain.  Three years since everyone gave a sigh of relief when the seven of them collectively started their service and called it a hiatus instead of a disbandment. Three years since a very personal apocalypse.

By now, Jimin should be over it, but the memories sit deep in his bones and still won't let him sleep some nights. He turns over words he could have used, contemplates kisses he should have never given.

We have it all, he had whispered into Yoongi's ear one night, mere weeks before the fall, when the paupers had still thought themselves princes, before 'all' was taken from them in what felt like a blink, a flurry of shameful headlines and panicked press conferences.

Now, he finds himself sitting on a velvet seat close to the aisle in a big concert hall, surrounded by other artists who make pleasant small-talk instead of sending him sidelong looks. Three years and the scandal has died down, the world has moved on, and Korea has become more accepting. Three years and so much unfair timing.

Please, Taehyung had said on the phone before Jimin had even found the invitation among his manager's emails. Please, just this once. It's been so long, and Kookie is hosting. It would mean a lot to him to have you there.

So Jimin had agreed, reluctantly, had send his confirmation to the organizers, had declined a plus one, had picked an outfit and stitched a perfectly blasé expression onto his face before he climbed out of the car and faced the feral flashes of the cameras.

“Now,” Jungkook says on stage, while his co-host smiles sweetly. “I am very happy to announce our next performer. For over a decade, he has been a caring hyung, a wonderful mentor and a great inspiration to me.”

The crowd cheers and Jimin does not flinch.

“Tonight,” Jungkook continues, “He is nominated in the category Best Solo Rap or HipHop for his truly remarkable self-produced song Easier.”

Again, Jimin keeps himself still. He had known of the nomination, yes, but this is the first time he has heard of the song in particular. It's a simply title, deceptively plain, but with a whirlwind of implications underneath the word.

“Please welcome,” Jungkookie says, lifting his arms in a well-practiced gesture, “Min Yoongi!”

That- is new. Had it been a simple faux pas of Jungkook to announce Yoongi under his legal name instead of his stage persona? Or was that intentional? Had Yoongi perhaps even done away with Agust D altogether, to rid himself of echo of Suga that were still caught in that name? Jimin has no time to contemplate it further. The lights dim, the crowd hushes, and then a small part of the stage is illuminated, a white halo atop a grand piano.

Yoongi, when he sits down on the small bench, does not look like a rapper or an idol or like someone Jimin remembers very well.

His slacks are black, his dress shirt white, and his hair is all natural. He looks like a concert pianist and it is so at odds with the man whose face twisted into an ugly visage when he told Jimin to leave, just leave then, tell them I forced you when I fucked you, tell them you never loved me at all!

No, Jimin chides himself, clenching his fists in his lap. He will not allow himself to sink back into the guilt and the doubt and the questions of blame. He will listen to this song, four minutes, five minutes, however long it takes, tag them on to the three years that have passed, and then he will continue to breathe.

Yoongi's hands touch the piano key the way they used to touch Jimin's body – knowingly, familiarly, lovingly – and he draws sounds from it just the same. Underneath Yoongi's affection, Jimin had sung. Now he watches and keeps his silence.

There is no track to accompany the melody Yoongi writes out with his fingers, no beat and no bass, just Yoongi leaning forward and pushing his lips against the mic in something akin to a kiss.

“I won't lie, I felt betrayed, I started cursing your name,” he begins to rap and the words zap through Jimin's mind like lightening, unexpected and unpleasant. It does not surprise him that Yoongi would have turned their ugly separation into an angry rap, but to think that he got a nomination and potentially even an award out of it is especially jarring.

“I even smoked cigarettes to burn out your taste, set my lungs on fire and laid my tongue to waste,” Yoongi continues and Jimin pulls a face, insulted. Yoongi had always abhorred smoking, and to fault Jimin for a new bad habit was just petty and childish.

“But my lips were promised kisses and I find that I miss it,” Yoongi says, softer and almost self-deprecating, “Though I guess I got myself to blame.”

Jimin stills.

Of course he would miss it, he tries to rationalize it. Their relationship had been good while it had lasted, there was no reason to demean it. But to say it so blatantly, so shamelessly...

“I don't remember all that happened, who said what and how and when,” Yoongi says and that's fair enough, the lines had blurred as they both hurled hurtful things at each other, as they couldn't breathe around their fear, and Jimin remembers those days as nothing but a long stretch of hurt.

“Though I do remember thinking, We could try this again,” Yoongi admits, only to lets his head hang a little. “But the door was locked by then, the thought came too late. So I tried to shrug it off and called it Mistakes and Fate. I went on with my life, I put my game face on, never daring to look just how far you had gone.”

Incheon, Jimin thinks. I was stationed in Incheon, and for two years your were just two hours away.

“I thought it would be easier to leave you behind,” Yoongi says and the piano is slower now, contemplative, less explosive anger and aching regret. “Easier to get your laughter out of my mind. Easier to write songs about things that aren't you. Easier to lie than forever be true.”

Truth, that had been it, the thing that broke their backs. They lived so many pretenses, had thought that they could juggle their existence as idols with their secret little affair behind the scenes.

Affair, Jimin recalls with a sour taste. That's what the papers had called it.

“I asked my father, Hey, dad, how did you know?” Yoongi raps, easily switching into his Satoori dialect, stronger than ever after two years away from Seoul. “How did you know that mom was it? How long did you date? He said, Son, you never know and you'll always be afraid. But some things that aren't easy are still worth the wait.”

Jimin swallows. He can tell that there are cameras on him now, filming his reactions, and in that moment he realizes that, while he has stoutly refused to listen to any of Yoongi's works, the entire country had been aware that this was a song written about them. And now they wanted to see what Jimin thought of it.

“So maybe I should have waited,” Yoongi acknowledges, “Maybe I would have won. Maybe I could have lingered even after you had run.”

I didn't run, Jimin thinks spitefully, despite the fact that he isn't even sure anymore. They had both messed up and sometimes there was no changing that.

“And I accept the blame, I do, I have it written on my skin,” Yoongi bursts out, his eyes shut in concentration, “Yet I want the world to know – we were always more than sin!”

Oh, Jimin says and suddenly there are tears caught in his lashes. How is it possible that, years and years later, Yoongi's music still managed to touch him so deeply, so suddenly?

“I thought it would be easier, but my music wants your voice,” Yoongi confesses. His upper-body is swaying back and forth with it, like a man in prayer. “I thought it would be easier, but this was never just my choice.”

It hadn't been our choice at all, Jimin knows. The choice had been taken from them the moment their relationship was dragged out for everyone to sneer and stare at.

“Maybe you'll never hear this song, maybe I cannot ask for more,” Yoongi finishes, the melody turning slower and slower underneath his fingertips, like the end of heavy rain. “But if you love me still, maybe we could try for an encore?”

No, Jimin thinks helplessly. No, this isn't fair. Yoongi couldn't just write one song and undo three years of stagnation. He couldn't take Jimin's pain and soothe it into oblivion.

The song is over and the lights turn low again. The audience bursts into cheers. Jimin keeps his hands carefully folded and does not acknowledge the cameras. Then Jungkook and his co-host are back on stage, commending Yoongi's performance before also announcing the next artist. Jimin gets up from his seat and squeezes back the other people to get into the aisle. He'd catch a short break in the bathroom, he tells himself. Maybe see whether he could get someone to bring him something to drink, water or alcohol, he doesn't even know. Yet, somehow, he suddenly finds himself at the door that leads backstage for when artists need to get ready for their performance.

“There you are,” Hoseok hisses, stepping out of the shadow. “I was already thinking you wouldn't come.” “I- what?” Jimin says, confused, especially as Hoseok just grabs him by the arm and leads him through the door, nodding at the security people.

“Do you know how much planning this took?” Hoseok shakes his head. “I never thought you of all people would be so stubborn or childish.” “What are you talking about?” “The song!” Hoseok exclaims with a wave of his hand. “You were supposed to hear it months ago. But then Taehyung finds out that you have literally purged Yoongi-hyung from your life, and when he heard he was ready to just give up. Seokjin had to move in with him, just to make sure he was eating properly. And then Namjoon set up this whole elaborate scheme of making listen to the song live so you can't just ignore it. This took months, I tell you, so you better be grateful.”

“I- I-,” Jimin stammers, with slowly inching panic making him realize where this is going. “Hobi,” Yoongi says where is suddenly standing on the threshold of a small changing room. “Let go of him.”

He looks a little older and his makeup glistens a little from how the stage lights must have burned down on him. But he is still just as short as always and he is he is looking right at Jimin.

“Hyung,” Jimin says, strangled, the first word in too long.

“Jiminie,” Yoongi returns and it should be too much, too familiar, but it feels just right. Yoongi's fingers clench around the door handle and he licks his lips, before gesturing into the empty room behind him. “Would you like to sit down and talk a bit?”

Jimin shakes his head, opens his mouth before Yoongi's face can fall. But perhaps the decision had already been made before Yoongi wrote his song.

“I'm here for that encore.”

Here the song lyrics for easier reading, if anyone is interested:

Min Yoongi - Easier (ft. dawnstruck) “I won't lie, I felt betrayed, I started cursing your name

I even smoked cigarettes to burn out your taste,

set my lungs on fire and laid my tongue to waste

but my lips were promised kisses and I find that I miss it

Though I guess I got myself to blame

I don't remember all that happened, who said what and how and when

But I do remember thinking, We could try this again

But the door was locked by then, the thought came too late

So I tried to shrug it off and called it Mistakes and Fate

I went on with my life, I put my game face on,

never daring to look just how far you had gone

I thought it would be easier to leave you behind

Easier to get your laughter out of my mind

Easier to write songs about things that aren't you

Easier to lie than forever be true

I asked my father, Hey, dad, how did you know?

How did you know that mom was it? How long did you date?

He said, Son, you never know and you'll always be afraid

But some things that aren't easy are still worth the wait

So maybe I should have waited, maybe I would have won

Maybe I could have lingered even after you had run

And I accept the blame, I do, I have it written on my skin

Yet I want the world to know – we were almost more than sin

I thought it would be easier, but my music wants your voice

I thought it would be easier, but this was never just my choice

Maybe you'll never hear this song, maybe I cannot ask for more

But if you love me still, maybe we could try for an encore?”

[dawnstruck]

I have some more ym prompts waiting in my ask box and I’ll try to get them out as soon as possible, but I’m pretty busy this week so I’ll have to put them on the backburner for now. Sorry about that!