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#suga au
starbandit · 2 days
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The World In-Between (CH. 4)
Preview: “Don’t make a noise.” A voice whispered in your ear. “They’re blind, but not deaf.” 
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WARNINGS: graphic depictions of dead animals, guns, mentions of vomit, death, m*rder, zombies, slightly triggering topics
word count- 2.7k/unedited
A few weeks had passed and you had begun to grow closer with the boys as time went on. In the beginning, you tried to stay out of the way, eating as little food as possible, keeping your room and everything super neat and tidy. You didn’t want to be a burden to everyone because in the end, they were doing you a massive favor. One small slip up and you feared you would be cast out into the dense forest, left to become a monster. 
Seokjin began inviting you to help him prepare dinner. It started with him just asking you to help him turn on the sink while he was cooking one night, and soon grew into giggle fests while he showed you how to prepare different dishes. You pretended not to notice the way he would look at you, with a small smile and pride in his eyes, as you grew out of your shell around him. 
The sun was shining through the lightly lined windows, casting the most angelic glow over your tired face. Your hair fanned out over the pillow, the soft frizz framed your face. Seokjin could feel his heartbeat through his entire body as he stepped into the room. He had planned on letting you sleep for as late as you wanted, correction, needed, but when Namjoon and Taehyung said they were going out into the forest to look for firewood and maybe grab some foragable foods, he couldn’t let you miss out on the bonding opportunity. 
Seokjin slowly sat on the corner of the bed, trying not to disturb you too much. He raised his hand and gently placed it on your back, rubbing big circles over the covered skin. He couldn’t help but smile a little as your eyebrows furrowed together and you stretched out, cracking your eyes open slowly. 
“Good morning,” He greeted and placed his hand back in his lap. “There’s some breakfast in the kitchen. Joon and Tae are gonna go out soon, if you would like to join them.” 
You grunted and nodded, going out and helping them with whatever would be a better way to pay them back than sleeping all day. “Okay.” You whispered, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “I’ll come down in a few minutes, just let me get somewhat decent.” 
You groaned as Seokjin shut the door to your room and turned over, pushing your face deep into the pillows. As much as you didn’t want to get up, the promise of food and fresh air was too good to pass up. Even if it meant leaving the warm sheets you had gotten oh so comfortable in. 
You dragged yourself out of bed and to the bag that you had thrown in the corner when you arrived. You plopped down on the floor, shivering slightly at the cold wood and the feeling of it seeping through the fabric of your pajamas. You pulled out almost every article of clothing in your bag, soon opting for a basic outfit of some jeans and a large tshirt. A pair of fun socks decorated your feet, but they would soon be covered up by the boots you were going to put on when you left. 
You grabbed the small toiletries bag you had brought and dug through it. You quickly swiped on some deodorant and grabbed your toothbrush. You may be going up against zombies in those trees but you weren’t trying to have the breath of one, that was for damn sure. 
After freshening up a bit, you made your way downstairs. Jungkook was relaxing on the couch, scrolling through his phone in some sweats and a loose t-shirt. He looked up and smiled at you, giving you a tiny wave as well. You smiled back and headed into the kitchen. A small bowl of soup and rice was set out with kimchi and a glass of juice. You sat down and began to dig in.
It didn’t take long for you to eat and finish chugging the juice. You placed your dishes in the sink with the other plates and set off to find Namjoon or Taehyung. Namjoon was the first one to be found. He was sat in a chair in the corner, glasses perched on his nose and a book settled in his hands. 
“Ah, Y/N.” He peeked over his glasses at you. “Are you joining us today?” 
You nodded. “Yeah, figured I could at least learn a few things, maybe help a little.” 
“We’re just waiting on Taehyung,” He closed the book and set it on the table next to him. 
You two fell into a comfortable conversation as you waited for Taehyung to finish whatever he was doing. Namjoon told you all about his studies, the interesting data he had collected and the experiments he had conducted before everything happened. 
“Here.” A deep voice sounded from above you. You glanced up. Taehyung was dressed, in your opinion, a little too nice. A button up shirt, with the sleeves slightly rolled up, dark slacks, and heavy boots. In his hand was a black pistol with a silencer. 
“I’ve never-” You started as he placed the gun into your hand. “I don’t-” 
“You aim, you pull the trigger.” He stared. “Don’t shoot yourself or us. You ready?” 
The three of you made your way into the forest. You followed closely behind Namjoon who was picking mushrooms from the ground and mumbling about which ones were safe and which ones were poisonous. Every little noise made you jump, the crunch of the leaves beneath your feet was just loud enough to make you anxious. 
“Shit.” Namjoon stopped dead in his tracks. In front of you was a small clearing of a few small fallen trees. In the middle was a deer carcass with hundreds, maybe even thousands of flies buzzing around. Maggots crawled in and out of its mouth and eyes. The sweet stench of rotting meat filled your nose. 
“What?” You questioned softly. You tried to step next to him, but he put his arm out to stop you. 
“They did this.” 
You stared at the deer. Wild animals die all the time, no? It could have been natural. Hell, you had seen plenty of dead deer back at home, just on the side of the road. 
“Look,” Namjoon pointed at the body. You continued to stare. That is when you saw it. Teeth. There were a bunch of teeth lodged in different parts of the deer, human teeth at that. Large pieces of deer were torn out of the animal, you could see where someone had dug their fingers into the flesh and pulled out the chunks. Your heart, and maybe some bile, jumped into your throat as you continued to stare. 
“We need to go back.”
You nodded and turned on your heel, immediately stepping on a large branch the second you took a step. The crunch echoed through the forest. “Fuck.” 
Taehyung stared at Namjoon over your head. “We gotta go. Now.” He grabbed your wrist and began pulling you with him. He had a death grip on his gun, scanning the woods as he led the way back to the house. Your hand began to go numb from Taehyung gripping your wrist, you were sure you would have a bruise later. 
You froze as you heard a screech from deeper in the trees. The sound of feet sounded from all around you. It didn’t take long for it to find you. Panic rose through your body and you began to rapidly assess your surroundings. 
Namjoon and Taehyung had seemingly disappeared into thin air, leaving you completely alone in the trees. Your hands began to shake as you lifted the gun up, trying to aim for the thing that was after you. It peered through the branches and began taking steps in your direction. It turned its nose up in the air, sniffing like a dog. 
You were frozen in your place as it took steps closer to you. The smell of death washed over you. It took everything in you to not gag at the smell. As it got closer you began to notice just how decayed it was. Colorless skin was sloughing off, strips hanging down like curtains. Its eyes, or what were left of them, were somehow both milky white and seemed to be bloodshot. Maggots inched in and out of the open wounds of its cheeks and neck. Fingers were barely being held on by exposed tendons. 
Its face twitched as it stepped closer to smell you. It lifted an arm up and reached out towards you, a deep groan leaving its throat. You watched as the fingers dangled and shook in the movement. 
It only took a second for more to appear around you, almost as if the original one had summoned them. They were all in varying stages of decay, some crawling out of the bushes and some that looked like they could have been alive yesterday. Was this how you went out? After all the days, weeks, however long it had been. Alone, in the woods, after stupidly following a stranger to a mansion in the middle of nowhere? 
You nearly screamed as a hand wrapped around your neck and covered your mouth. A broad chest met with your back, the warmth seeped through your thin clothes. You were almost positive they could feel your heart beating through your skin, your entire body heaving with deep breaths out of fear.
“Don’t make a noise.” A voice whispered in your ear. “They’re blind, but not deaf.” 
You nodded, eyes wide as you watched the creatures begin to stumble around, still sniffing the air. The original one seemed to be controlling whatever the others did. You weren’t sure if you were seeing things right though. 
“Aim the gun.” Taehyung whispered. “The middle one is the one you want to shoot.” He placed his hands over yours, correcting the angle. He cocked the gun. “You just need to pull the trigger.”
Your hands shook under Taehyung’s. He gripped your hands a little tighter, steadying your shot. You placed your finger over the trigger and prepared to shoot. The original zombie had stopped wandering in circles and was now standing with its back to you. 
“Aim for the brain.” 
You nodded and took a deep breath. You pulled the trigger. Your entire world slowed down as you watched the bullet zoom out of the gun and straight in front of you. 
The zombie's head exploded onto the tree in front of him. Black and red goo splattered instantly as the body crumbled to the floor. You watched as chunks of rotten, maggot infested brain slid down the tree. You gagged and hunched over as bile rose in your throat and out your mouth. 
Taehyung chuckled from behind you and rubbed your back. “I did the same thing my first time.” 
You wiped your mouth as you stood up. There goes the breakfast Seokjin had made for you. The first thing you noticed when you stood up was that all the zombies had fled, every single one was gone.
“W-where did they go?” You questioned.
“You killed the hive brain.” Taehyung motioned to the crumpled body next to the tree. 
Hive brain? What the hell did he mean by that? You had so many questions, but none of them made their way out of your mouth. You continued to stare at the body for a bit longer before Taehyung nudged you. “Come on, can’t stay here all day staring.” He began to set off into the woods and back towards the house. 
You took a deep breath and trailed after him. “Sorry…” You whispered to the body. There wasn’t much left of the thing, no no, the person's head, just a pile of goo and rotting flesh. You felt sick looking at it but swallowed down the sour taste and rushed off. You shivered at the thought, you had just killed someone. Someone who, at one point, had a life. Maybe a family, kids, a partner. A whole life just gone. 
Taehyung hummed quietly as you followed behind him. The image kept replaying, the way the body instantly crumbled, the brain splatter, the sound. You sighed in relief as the house came into view. It was almost over. 
Namjoons boots were sitting inside the door when you walked in. A sense of relief washed over you, thank god he made it back safe. You don’t know what would have happened if he didn’t. You were almost positive Yoongi would find a way to blame you, and you would probably end up like the creature you had just brutally murdered. Was it really murder if they weren’t fully alive though? 
Taehyung reclaimed the gun he had given you the second you stepped back into the house. He made quick work of locking the doors and sliding the metal shutters back down. He gave you a pat on the shoulder before sauntering off, going deeper into the house and leaving you with your thoughts once more. 
You left your mud soaked boots on the mat next to the door. You still felt sick, the smell of death felt like it was stuck on you. The sickly sweet scent of the deer, the rotting meat and flesh from the creature, everything was stuck on you. Your hair, your skin, your clothes, you needed out, and fast. 
You rushed through the living room, ignoring Hoseok and Jungkook as they tried to say hello. You nearly tripped going up the stairs. You rounded the corner, nearly running into Yoongi on your way. You paused for a moment before trying to mutter a quick apology. You tried to move by him, but the second you took a step, Yoongi blocked your path. 
“I told you to stay out of the way.” He grumbled. “You nearly got Namjoon and Taehyung killed.” He stared down at you, his eyes piercing your soul. He leaned down next to your ear, your entire body tensing up as his breath hit your exposed skin. “If I had my way, you would have been gone before you even got into this house. Don’t forget that, little one.”
You shoved past Yoongi, pushing his body back with all the force you could muster and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. You clicked the lock before bracing yourself against the sink, head dipped down. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, a seemingly impossible task at the moment. 
You didn’t recognize yourself when you looked in the mirror. Your hair was disheveled, frizz creating a messy halo around your head. Your skin had drained of all color, leaving you a sickly gray color. Your eyes were dark, teary, and sunken in. You gasped for a breath as you got closer to the mirror. 
What was happening to you? You felt like a monster, you had killed someone and almost gotten your saviors killed in the process. Sure, it was in self defense, something to save yourself, but was that a selfish decision? You stared at yourself until your face started to distort in the mirror, transforming before your eyes into some horrifying creature. 
You hiccuped as the image continued to distort before your eyes, bile rising up in your throat as you stood there. It burned your throat as you dropped next to the toilet, head in the bowl. A sob left your mouth as you threw up, sweat beading on your hairline.
Once you were positive it was over, you stood up and flushed. A shower was in order. You turned on the shower water and went to rinse your mouth and brush your teeth while the water warmed up. You brushed your teeth until you spit blood, and stripped down to get in the shower. 
The hot water burned your skin and left hot red marks all over your body. You scrubbed the skin, the smell of death, off until it hurt. The steam of the shower was thick and hard to breathe in, but you didn’t care as you stood under the scorching water. You felt the burn on your skin as you stood alone with your thoughts. Were you truly any better than them? Or were you both just trying to survive?
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shadowkoo · 7 months
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Baby Maker
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→ Summary: You and Yoongi have been relishing the comfort of your newly married life, savoring each moment together. However, there's an additional want tugging at your heartstrings – the thought of becoming a mother. That’s right, you want a baby. Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s ready for the journey of bringing a baby into your lives. But he’ll agree to anything that makes you happy, and if it’s a baby you want, it’s a baby you’ll get.
↠ myg x f.reader | 1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: slice of life, romance, fluff, smut, newlyweds
→ Warnings: unprotected sex (intentional), daddy kink, impregnation kink, deep dicking, belly bulge, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie
→ Author note: This is a remix/update of an older fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you'd like to read this on ao3 instead it's been crossposted here! And as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3
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You wrap your arms around your husband the second he walks through the front door of your home.
"Mmm, I've waited all day for this," you whisper before pulling him into a long kiss. One of your hands cradles his cheek while the other plays with his hair.
"Well, hello there Mrs. Min," Yoongi says with a sideways smile sprawled across his face after pulling away, "What's got you in such a good mood?" He takes off his blazer and sets his work bag down on the bench in your entryway as you pull him into another lengthy kiss, one that makes Yoongi's groin stir with excitement.
You smile up at him and start to unbutton his top as you pull him further into your home, your end goal being the bedroom.
"Baby?" he asks with dark eyes, "Are you planning on spoiling me with dessert before dinner tonight?"
You laugh, "Baby, I don't want dessert... I want a baby."
Yoongi's face changes from one of eager anticipation to confusion, then to pure and utter shock.
‘Did all the air in the room suddenly disappear? Why aren’t you having trouble breathing like he is?’
"I want to make a baby with you," you repeat, looking into his fear-filled eyes. You figured he'd be a little freaked out, but not this much.
He coughs and sputters, pulling at the neck of his button-up shirt. "You, uh, b-baby?" Yoongi mutters once he’s able to form words again.
"Yes, a baby," you took a step back from him. "It's been almost three years since we've gotten married and talked about having kids in the future. Don't you want a mini you or me to love, to watch them grow, to teach them stuff?"
Yoongi is conflicted, not because he doesn’t want kids –he does– but it scares the shit out of him. That's a whole life to take care of and be responsible for. He knows how much you want a family though, and how patient you have been with him about trying for kids.
You give him that one look - the one that you know will get you whatever you want.
"Alright,” he says, easily won over. “Let's make a baby," he answers while pulling you back into his arms.
Yoongi brings your center up against his. You feel his growing hardness pressing into you through his jeans, and moan through the kiss. You want him.
And he wants you.
His kisses are hot and needy, but somehow still so very loving.
Yoongi lifts you up and carries you urgently the rest of the way to the bedroom, where he lays you down, ready to fuck you. To love you.
Your hands work on his shirt's buttons, undoing them as fast as you can. His run along your hips, making their way to the front of your jeans where he works to undo them, and slips them and your panties off simultaneously.
Your husband keeps eye contact with you while one of his hands slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to the edge of your dewy folds.
“Is this pretty little cunt ready for me?”
You nod frantically, and moan uncontrollably when his tongue dives deep into your core. He savors you, his tongue playing your clit like it's the most intricate instrument.
Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you hold his head in place while he finished you off. You come undone all over his face, his cheeks showing evidence of your release once he pulls away from you.
“I’ll never get tired of your taste,” he breathes. And it’s true, you’re intoxicating. He’s addicted to you.
Yoongi stands up, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, where he then rubs his throbbing cock through your folds, wetting himself just enough to dip into you.
He nearly loses himself, but manages to power through and find a rhythm that has you both heading in the right direction.
His low moans sound like heaven to your ears.
You pull him closer to you until your lips crash together, moaning into each other's mouth while you climb higher and higher.
Needing to sink even further into your heat, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pounding you from a new angle and bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.
“Who’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow? Who’s putting this baby in your belly? I want you to scream my name,” he demands.
“You did,” you pant. “Min Yoongi did.”
“Fuck!” Yoongi grits his teeth as he watches the way your lower belly bulges, matching his hard thrusts.
"I’m so close,” you cry out, your nails digging into your husband’s biceps. “Cum in me," you whine, pleading for him to release into you. Yoongi is more than happy to oblige.
"I love you,” you breathe as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the tingling spreading through your veins.
“I love you more.” Yoongi grunts, his final thrusts becoming more sporadic as he passes the peak, and fills you with his seed. His face twists in pleasure as your pulsating walls milk the last from him.
You’re satisfied feeling his warm release shooting up inside of you. A big grin won’t leave your face, “Thank you.”
He considers making a dick joke, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “You’re welcome, baby,” he says, kissing your cheek.
You roll over onto your back and lift your now tired and heavy legs in the air, and Yoongi gives you a perplexed look. "What?” you ask, "I've heard that this makes the sperm find the egg faster."
He thinks you look ridiculous in the best sort of way, and joins you. "I gain nothing from this but I figured I'd do it to support you."
"You're such a dork." But you love him for it.
"You know what you have to call me later if this worked?" Yoongi asks before answering his own question before you even have the chance. "The baby maker."
Your giggles filled the room and Yoongi can’t help but laugh along with you.
"Alright," you sighed once you calmed down, "I just figured you preferred daddy..."
That same look from earlier flared up in Yoongi's eyes once again, "I'm open to negotiations."
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©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.
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babystrcandy · 1 year
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matilda (pt. 1) | myg
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summary: Loneliness had always been a constant for you, haunting you like a ghost; until your older brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi, came into your life. You both promised each other something back then - you’d always have his support and he’d always have yours. But with time and age, you weren’t sure how much that all still stood to be true.
pairing: yoongi x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, slice of life, angst, fluff, eventual smut word count: 13.6K it only gets longer from here warnings/notes: this is based off the song matilda because i couldn’t help myself so beware of the hurt in this fic, first two chapters follow reader and yoongi throughout their lives, explicit language, unrequited love, a whole lot of pining, alcohol usage (mentions of throwing up), unsupportive/neglectful parents, mentions of loss of virginity (but nothing described/not between main pairing), yoongi and reader just want the best for each other, angst angst ANGST, this was originally posted on ao3 and i’m just now uploading it to tumblr, so bear with me i’m a mess, filter is called ethereal, but i can’t rmr the creator, so if it’s yours, pls contact me so i can give credit, i think that’s it but if i missed anything pls let me know (i wrote this a while ago and have no long term memory), ok ok hope you enjoy <3
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chapter one: it’s no big deal ( next → )
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WHEN YOU WERE MERELY ten years of age, you realized boys were not the bugs crawling with cooties you had made them out to be . . . all thanks to Min Yoongi. You remembered the first time you met him, keeping the fond memory safe inside your head throughout the years.
You grew up lonely. Your father was a wealthy businessman, owning his own company, which his son would surely take over when he came of age. This meant he was always away on business trips or locked inside his office while your mother tended to every one of your brother's needs, oftentimes forgetting you had your own. You didn't have many friends; most of the kids your age labeled you as a snob because of who your father was, so there was no point in trying with them.
Your brother, Kim Seokjin, however, always made sure to drag you along wherever he went like you were his very own prodigy, apprentice, assistant, whatever. He had always been your protector from day one . . . even if he kicked you out of the room every time he had his friends over. (They were playing boy games, he'd always say, but you were smart for your age. You knew boy games actually just meant looking at the special magazines your father kept hidden in his room.)
You'd grown up alone. But you were used to it. It didn't bother you. You liked to be alone when you drew in your sketchbook anyway. And you did draw every chance you got. It helped keep the loneliness at bay.
The day you met Min Yoongi had been no different.
That day, you found yourself alone yet again. Your father had locked himself in his office for the night while your mother took Seokjin to one of his basketball practices. In your lonesome, you'd turned to mindlessly draw in front of the television in the living room, while the movie Matilda played in the background. You'd spent that time etching the ideas that had consumed your young mind onto the new sketchbook you had begged your parents to buy. You'd planned to ask for paints next.
You liked being alone. You liked painting in silence. Lately, you had been finding the silence, in general, not so bad. You'd even go as far as to say you enjoyed it.
Seokjin didn't. He could never handle it. Because of this, he'd always kept busy with his many interests that seemed to grow as he aged.
While only at ten, you enjoyed days full of art and color and watching Matilda over and over again, Seokjin was stuck at twelve almost thirteen with an overactive mind and a need to fight twenty-four-seven. Granted, he was only a preteen boy, so it was a given he’d beg his parents to let him join every sport he set his mind to.
And the sport he had chosen this year: basketball. And this time your mother decided to chaperon every practice and every game . . . so that meant you would be left alone even more, given the other invasive fact that your father was far too busy to give you the time of day.
It would just be you and your drawings from now on, you supposed. You'd have to draw faces to keep you company, and that wasn't so bad. You could find friendship in the two-dimensional caricatures you'd craft. And you could like that. You had to like that.
So when your mother opened the front door with boxes of pizza juggling in her hands, warning you that Seokjin and his friends would be in any minute, it was no surprise that you were still drawing. You had nodded, not paying much attention due to the fact that your dear (you noted, sarcastically) older brother always made it a habit to invite his friends over to his house after their basketball practices. It was routine by now. A routine you hated . . . because . . . your brother’s offer to have his teammates over meant you would have to sit there in the middle of their preteen antics and body odor and endure it all. (Just another reason why you had never paid attention to boys: they all smelled. Bad.)
But that day had been different. Because when the boys from your brother’s team finally all piled in, loud and obnoxious as they made their way to the kitchen for a slice of pizza, you spotted a new face. He was shorter than most of the boys, his limbs long and skinny, but he had this expression on his round face that convinced your young, hopeless romantic mind that you had truly just seen sparks fly. Like, full-on sparks. Perhaps there were even hearts in your eyes.
You observed him for the rest of the night, and in your ten-year-old mind, you had reassured yourself that no, this was not stalking . . .
Because, no, it was not creepy for Seokjin’s little sister to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, silent and standing still as you listened to the boys talk amongst each other. And, no, it was not weird that you kept staring at the new face amongst your brother’s friends, giggling when you saw him accidentally drop a piece of pepperoni on the floor.
He had looked at you then, his attention being drawn to the sound of your small laughter. And when he had, you, being ten and well . . . not used to interacting with other people often, tried to hide from his gaze, but the boy didn’t give you a weird look like your peers normally sent your way, instead, his mouth morphed into an awkward tight-lipped smile as he hastily picked up the pepperoni from the floor and flicked it onto his plate. He then turned away and focused his attention on Seokjin, who was loudly demonstrating the shots he had made during practice.
It was clear he could still feel your eyes on him as he kept awkwardly glancing your way, shifting under your gaze. It wasn’t until the boy grabbed another paper plate, put a piece of pizza on it, and approached you that you truly realized that the boy had actually seen you staring at him.
Almost as if you had been starstruck, you stared at him, your eyes as wide as saucers as you glanced between the plate in his hands and his face.
A second later he had asked, “Did you want a slice?” His voice was small with only a hint of awkwardness hidden behind his calm tone as he held out the plate toward you.
You blinked, nodding up at him, and a second afterward, you grabbed the plate from him, your eyes never leaving his face. You noticed then that he had a small freckle on his nose, and you decided that it was your favorite thing about him.
It only took a second longer for you to convince yourself that you were going to marry him. This caused your cheeks to blaze aflame. (You’d surely write this down in your diary . . . )
But your cheeks didn’t stay burning long before your brother finally became burdened by your presence and yelled your name, "Leave Yoongi alone. You’re freaking my friends out with your weird looks.”
You blinked, slightly stunned as you kept your wide eyes on the boy—Yoongi.
“It’s OK,” Yoongi mumbled, offering a small smile. “She was just hungry.”
You grinned widely at his words.
Yoongi.
You noted his name so you wouldn’t forget it. To the diary, it would go.
However, when you heard your brother click his tongue in annoyance, you quickly snapped out of your bashful daze and groaned at your brother, stomping your foot and pointing a finger at him. “You can't kick me out this time. It's dinnertime, dingus, and I'm hungry,” you huffed. “And . . . Mom said I could join!”
Your brother gave you an irritated look. “No, mom told you to leave me alone when I have friends over,” he hissed.
“No—” you bit out— “you did!” You groaned again. "I could starve . . . because of you!"
Seokjin clicked his tongue. “OK, you have your pizza now, so go.”
“But—”
“Go away, shithead,” Seokjin whined, shooing you away.
You glared at him. "You're such a nerd."
"Nerd?" Seokjin scoffed. "How-How am I a nerd?"
"Find a mirror," you muttered as you pointed at the glasses on his face, simultaneously taking a bite of your pizza at the same time.
Seokjin gave you a pointed look. "If you leave now--" he paused to release a sigh as he rolled his eyes and continued, his voice muffled-- "we can watch Matilda later."
You smiled, complacently. “Fine.”
You turned to leave the kitchen, but not before you stuck your tongue out at your older brother. He reciprocated the action but flipped you off in the process. He, however, quickly realized what he had done, his eyes flying wide open just as a sly grin slid onto your face.
And at that, you took off running as you yelled, “Mom, Jin flipped me off!”
But as you ran away, you could have sworn you had heard a laugh fall from Yoongi. Maybe you had imagined it . . . but . . . it'd warmed your heart nevertheless.
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The second time you saw Min Yoongi, it was a Tuesday. You had just returned home from school, skipping through the front door of your house with your mother close behind you. While your mother briefly told you she would be in the kitchen making dinner, you hummed in acknowledgment as you made your way to the living room, pulling out your sketchbook from your backpack and getting to work.
You hadn’t known how much time had passed before loud voices carried into the room and you felt the cushion beside you on the couch dip under the weight of someone else. Only when you glanced up did you realize sitting beside you was your brother’s friend, Yoongi.
Now, you had successfully found out a few things about the boy beside you over the past few weeks that he had become friends with your brother. While Seokjin was busy gaming, you would nag and nag and nag him to tell you more about his friend, to which Seokjin always teased you, telling you he was too old for you. You had only huffed and rolled your eyes, deciding to keep your mouth shut and deal with the information you had already gathered.
And to your diary, it all went.
Min Yoongi was his full name. He was around the same age as your brother, so about twelve, almost thirteen—around a little over one or close to two years older than you, but two grades apart due to the cut-off. He was new to the team, just recently moving to Seoul from Daegu because his father got a new job there and apparently it was paying better, so they decided to enroll Yoongi in the same school that Seokjin went to. 
That also meant that he had begged his parents to let him join a local basketball team in hopes of maintaining some familiarity with his old life. And he was surprisingly good, already mastering most of the positions and slowly improving their team bit by bit. And . . . he had the prettiest eyes you had ever seen. (Although, the latter fact being one that you had added entirely on your own.)
And as he sat beside you on that couch, you realized his eyes were even prettier than you had originally noted. When he offered you a small friendly smile, you could have sworn you were going to puke a butterfly.
But the boy turned away a second later and you realized you had been staring up at him with a wide (maybe too wide) toothy grin.
You heard your brother call your name, drawing your attention.
Only then as you turned to look at your brother did you realize Yoongi was only sitting beside you because your brother and his other friend from the team, Jung Hoseok were occupying the only other couch in the living room. And then you realized why they were in there—they wanted the TV and that meant Seokjin would be nagging you to leave them be any minute.
“Nuh-uh, I was here first,” you quickly groaned out before your brother could say a word, stomping your feet on the ground.
Seokjin sighed. “We’re watching a horror movie. You’ll get scared,” he told you, his brows raised. He thought he was so much older now since his birthday would be in a few weeks, but you were older too. You’d be eleven in January. You could so watch a scary movie.
“I like scary movies,” you lied. “I watch them all the time.” Another lie.
"You still watch Matilda," Seokjin countered. "You're practically four."
You shot him a look. "I'm ten, you four-eyed freak."
While Seokjin gave you a pointed look and lifted his glasses up his nose, Hoseok gave a small laugh. You, however, glanced at Yoongi beside you, seeing he was looking at his friends, a small smile on his face.
Fortunately for you, Seokjin let you stay as he started the movie. But you immediately lowered your eyes to your sketchbook, drawing to distract yourself from the noises coming from the television. About thirty minutes in, trying to mask your fear by drawing more and more, you heard Yoongi speak . . . to you.
“That’s cool.”
You stopped and looked up at him, speechless. “What?”
“Your drawing,” Yoongi whispered, pointing at your sketchbook. “I think it’s cool. You’re . . . really good.”
You turned bashful. “Oh. Thank you.”
A scream from the television, however, made you jump, causing your eyes to squeeze shut. You opened them, slightly more embarrassed now as you avoided eye contact with the older boy. Your eyes drooped to your sketchbook a second later, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. One look from those feline-like eyes would surely make you embarrass yourself even more, and you had done enough of that tonight. But the boy didn’t let you dwell in your embarrassment for much longer before he reached behind him, grabbed a pillow, and offered it out to you.
You glanced between the pillow and Yoongi’s face.
The boy only offered a small smile. “Block the screen with it,” he began. “It helps . . . a little.”
You smiled, bashfully. “Thank you,” you mumbled as you took the pillow and rested it on your knees that were bent to your chest. And he was right. The pillow did block the screen, allowing you to rest a little easier now that you didn’t have to endure the jump scares through your peripheral.
And just when you thought your heart couldn't beat faster, Yoongi whispered to you, “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t tell your brother you’re scared as long as you don’t tell him I am too.”
You blinked.
Yoongi scrunched his nose as he held out his pinky finger, gesturing for you to solidify the promise.
And how could you oppose?
You couldn’t.
You reached for his pinky with a grin on your face, linking your pinkies together and shaking. This was your first promise, but you could tell it wouldn’t be your last.
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It did not take long for you to warm up to Min Yoongi. In fact, you looked forward to every time he would come home with your brother after practice or just to randomly hang out on the weekend. You had even started to willingly go with your mother to watch your brother’s games . . . although . . . you never told any of them that you only went to see Yoongi.
So, you had a crush. So what?
You couldn’t help the heat that would creep up on your cheeks when he would come over to your house, sending a small wave your way when you'd lock eyes. Oftentimes when Seokjin’s teammates would hang out at the Kim household, they’d end up filtering to your spacious backyard where there lay a pool accompanied by an area where your parents had recently installed a small basketball court. It seemed Seokjin would be sticking with basketball for a while, and you couldn't complain.
You especially couldn’t complain when you’d pretend to go outside and draw in your sketchbook when you were actually just watching the boys play scrimmages of basketball. Your crush only worsened every time Yoongi would come over to you, dragging you with him to get you to play in one of the games with them. And every time, you found yourself unable to say no to him.
And when the rest of the boys had to head home, the night usually ended with Yoongi and Hoseok deciding to stay the night as per Seokjin’s request. This, of course, always resulted in the three of them plus you staying out in the backyard, teaching you how to shoot and block. However, Yoongi ended up being the one to teach you most of the tricks, telling you that you were his prodigy in the making.
“You’re gonna be better than me one day,” he said one night as you made a basket.
From the other side of the court, Seokjin snorted. “Don’t go lying to her, Yoon.”
“Yah!” you whined, stomping your foot at your brother. "Watch it, four-eyes!"
Your brother only laughed, quickly tsked at you when he'd heard your insult, while Hoseok, who stood beside him, whacked his chest. “She’ll get better the more she practices,” he reassured with a warm smile.
You beamed at him, opening your mouth to speak, but a hand resting on top of your head trapped the words in your throat. You blinked and followed the hand, discovering that it was Yoongi who had decided to rest his palm atop your crown, his other hand holding the basketball. “She’s already better than you are now,” the Min boy teased, raising his brows.
“Really?” you questioned, your voice small and hopeful.
Yoongi looked down at you and nodded. “Way, way, way better,” he hummed as he scrunched his nose, patting your head before he dropped his other hand to the basketball. “Just look at those long arms of his. He’ll slap you in the face before he can steal the ball.”
You let out a burst of laughter, and Seokjin scolded the two of you.
“Stop fraternizing with the enemy!” the Kim boy yelled, his hands out.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Your little sister is not the enemy,” he began. “Those long arms of yours are . . . and that awful hand-eye coordination you got going on.”
“Yah!” Seokjin hissed, almost stomping his foot on the asphalt, but stopping himself. “My arms are a normal length.”
“Let’s put it to the test,” Yoongi declared as he passed the ball to Seokjin. “New game?” His eyes drifted to you as if asking you personally.
“New game,” you mumbled, trying to find your voice but you were too wrapped up in his eyes. Yoongi grinned at that and you were sure you were going to faint.
“Me and the kid against you and Hoseok?” Yoongi announced, looking at Seokjin for confirmation. “Or are you too scared to face me and my prodigy?”
Me and my prodigy.
You turned bashful. To the diary, it would go.
And before you could convince yourself that you heard wedding bells in the background, you heard Seokjin agree and then Yoongi was giving you a friendly pat on the back before he immersed himself into the game. You had no choice but to follow suit, after all, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by making him lose the game. It wasn’t until you guys had actually won that you were convinced Yoongi was some kind of good luck charm.
. . . You had a crush. A big fat one at that.
This carried on even as the years passed; even as you turned eleven and then twelve; even as Yoongi turned thirteen and then fourteen. You both grew, but the bond only strengthened, morphing into a friendship even you hadn’t seen coming. Even though you knew Yoongi only saw you as if you, too, were his little sister, you didn’t care. You realized having him as a friend meant more to you even at your young, immature age. You also didn’t mind having Hoseok around, finding yourself with a wide grin on your face when all four of you guys were together. And . . . Seokjin eventually got used to the fact that his friends were now also kind of his little sister’s . . . although he didn't take this information well at first.
(But you made sure to rub it in your brother’s face every chance you got.)
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When you were twelve years of age you gave Min Yoongi a paper ring.
Over the past two years of Yoongi and Hoseok coming over without the other team members, you had grown to know more about the two. For instance, one day Hoseok showed up after agreeing to meet Seokjin and Yoongi for a game, but he didn’t show up alone. Instead, accompanying him was his little sister, Jung Hari, who stood small and lanky with her head held low as she bashfully peeked up to look at her brother’s friends.
And you wasted no time. You’d grabbed the girl by the arm, asking her if she’d like to watch a movie (preferably your favorite . . . Matilda) while the boys played a game of basketball.
The thing was: you weren’t a shy kid, you just didn't have many friends. You had been shy when you were younger, but now, you weren't as bashfully shy as you had been, even if you still heated up any time Yoongi asked you to teach him how to draw the simplest of things. You were loud and colorful. And since Hoseok was only a year older than you, you oftentimes found yourself running your mouth along with him while your brother and Yoongi rolled their eyes at the two of you.
So when you saw Jung Hari, only one year younger than you, sulking as she was forced to accompany her brother to his hang out, you had jumped at the chance to make the girl feel at home.
Hari ended up coming along with her brother a lot more after that, and it was no surprise that the two of you had grown close.
You introduced the world of art to Hari, and Hari shared with you her secret pastime of origami. You guys had rolled your eyes when the boys would eat their food too fast, resulting in three teenage boys groaning about their stomach aches. And when you would sit outside and watch the boys play their silly little games, Hari would join, her nose held high in disgust when they’d try to pull her in to join the game. (While she would protest and protest, it was normally you who would convince the younger girl to join. It became evident the two of you would do anything for each other.)
And when you turned twelve, the month of February rolling around, you came to the one person who you knew would help you—Hari. Why exactly did you need help? Well . . . you heard from your brother that Han Daeun was going to ask Yoongi to be her valentine, and suddenly you were an atomic bomb.
For three days you contemplated asking Hari to show you how to make a paper ring, and on the third day, you went to her. And a day later, you trudged out to your backyard with a paper ring clutched tightly in your hand. There, you found Yoongi shooting hoops while he waited for Seokjin to return from the bathroom.
“Yoon,” you called out toward the older boy.
At the sound of your small voice, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder, brows raised high in question as he clutched the basketball in his hands. Once he found your face, his nose scrunched as a smile lifted onto his face. He tossed the basketball to the side and made his way toward you.
“Hey,” he said, his voice ever so calm. He sounded the way he always did—cool, calm, and collected. “How’s my prodigy doing?”
You forced yourself not to get too flustered, but it was no use. Yoongi was almost fourteen now. It would be March soon and then there would be two years still between you guys once again. Even now he looked older than he was. Perhaps it was because he always carried himself in such a way that even you couldn’t wrap your mind around. You supposed that was one of the first things you noticed about him—he seemed to view the world differently from everyone else.
“I’m OK!” you exclaimed, your voice coming out an octave too loud. It was just that . . . you were nervous. You knew you had to give him the ring quickly before your brother came back out and made a fool of you. “Um . . . I just have . . . something to give you.”
Yoongi grinned wider, his gums showing. “You have a present for me?” he asked. “It’s not my birthday for another month.”
“It’s not for your birthday,” you rushed out, perhaps a little too quickly. You nervously twisted the paper ring in your hand and gnawed on your bottom lip.
Yoongi blinked in confusion. “Oh.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. “It’s for valentine’s day,” your words were clumped together as you spoke. “Here—” you shoved your hand out, revealing the paper ring with a perfectly crafted heart in the middle of it— ”It’s a ring. I wanted to know if you’d be my valentine?”
The silence was your only answer. Your heart dropped.
Slowly, you peeled open your eyes to find Yoongi staring at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. You got the feeling that this would not be the last time Min Yoongi would give you that damned look. But at the time, the look nearly made you sob at the sight.
The older boy murmured your full name, trailing off. He didn’t refer to you as his prodigy or as kid. He just simply called you your boring old name, and somehow that broke your heart more, because you knew what it meant. You knew he only saw you as your brother’s kid sister. He’d never see you as anything else, so when he said your name, it was the simplest rejection he could’ve given you.
You dropped your hand and averted your gaze. You had to get out of there. “I’m sorry,” was all you could mumble as you threw the ring to the ground, turned around, and walked back inside. You passed Seokjin on your way to the living room, but when he went to tease you, you only flipped him off and flopped down on the couch. Your sketchbook awaited you, and you sat there sulking as you drew.
An hour later, Seokjin came back inside with Yoongi behind him. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. You couldn’t help but flush with warmth as you avoided eye contact with Yoongi at all costs.
But then came Seokjin’s voice. “Why are you acting so weird?” he questioned you as he sat down on the other couch. “Did you and Hari fight?”
You shook your head, huffing. “No, you nerd.”
“Did something happen at school?” he pressed. “Was it a boy?”
You stilled.
Seokjin stood to his feet and said your name. “Was it?” he went on, his voice gruff as he fixed his glasses on his face.
You didn’t respond.
And Seokjin took that as an answer. “OK, here’s what we’re going to do,” he began, pointing to Yoongi as if the two of them were trying to come up with their next play for a game. “We’ll round up the team and jump the fucker. There’s a dozen of us, and one of him. We got this.” He turned to you next. “What’s the dickhead’s name? Huh? Spill it or I’ll call Hoseok and he’ll get it out of Hari.”
“It’s fine,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.
“It will be once I find him,” Seokjin grumbled. “Come on—”
“No!” you yelled, finally glancing up at your brother, but your eyes found Yoongi’s instead. “It’s fine. He didn’t do anything.”
It was silent for a moment as Seokjin searched your face, but ultimately, he gave in, sighing and plopping down on the couch with a loud huff. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But if he does anything, you tell me and I’ll beat his ass.”
You hummed.
Only then did Yoongi finally sit down, but just your luck, he sat right beside you. Great.
Ten minutes later, Seokjin put on a movie, still grumbling from when you refused to tell him what was wrong. You rolled your eyes. He could be so immature even at his age. It wasn’t like you could’ve told him anyway. How were you supposed to tell him that you had made a fool of yourself in front of Yoongi because you were just a lovesick preteen crushing on your older brother’s best friend? Then they’d both be giving you that stupid look.
But . . . twenty minutes into the movie, and Yoongi plucked the pencil out of your hand. You watched in confusion as the boy leaned forward and began to write on your sketchbook. When he was done, he pulled away, gesturing for you to read the words.
I’m sorry I upset you. I never want to do that.
You sighed at his handwriting. There was the pity. You slowly nodded your head and added a shrug before you took the pencil from him and wrote underneath his words.
It’s OK. I forgive you.
You sheepishly turned away from him, but he surprised you again, taking your pencil and writing more underneath your handwriting. When he pulled away, you blinked at his words in disbelief.
Ask me again when you’re 25.
You blinked a couple more times, not believing your eyes. Then, you felt his hand touch yours as he pried your fingers apart, revealing your palm. He put the paper ring you had thrown away into your palm and then pulled away, leaving you in utter confusion as you blinked up at him, your eyes as wide as saucers. The boy only muffled his laugh as he pinched your chubby cheek before he turned back to the movie, completely unbothered.
But you couldn’t pay attention to the movie. You knew he only saw you as Seokjin’s little sister, but still, his words had comforted you, nursing the embarrassment you had previously felt. Ask me again when you’re twenty-five, he had written, and you made a vow to yourself that you would.
Ask me again when you’re twenty-five. You smiled.
To the diary, it would go.
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“I can’t believe you ran away,” Yoongi groaned as he plopped down on the seat next to you.
You only smirked. You were fourteen now, and not willing to listen to anyone’s advice. The only thing on your mind: you wanted to be an artist.
That all led you to that day. You see, there had been this art gallery in Busan where there were bound to be scouts and agents looking at all the underground artists that had the privilege to have their work displayed in the gallery. And, well, about three months prior, you had submitted a bunch of your pieces to the gallery, and to your surprise, they’d chosen one of your pieces to display. You, of course, had lied about your age, claiming you were four years older than you actually were, but still.
And the event was today.
Obviously, you couldn’t go telling your parents about this, especially your father, who’d have a fit if he knew his daughter wanted to waste her career on paints rather than medical tools. So that left you with no choice other than to book a ticket (with your allowance, of course) for the train going from Seoul to Busan that Saturday morning.
And who, of course, caught you sneaking out of your house that early Saturday morning? Min Yoongi . . . as always. And just your luck (or rather misfortune), Yoongi wouldn't let you go alone unless you let him come with you. To which you had only rolled your eyes at and hastily agreed as you were pressed for time, and then the two of you were off, riding your bikes to the sound of "It's No Big Deal” as you both approached the Seoul train station.
That led you to now—the two of you sitting on a train about to take off toward Busan, and you couldn’t wipe the wide grin off your face no matter how many times Yoongi complained.
“For the record, I didn’t run away,” you jested as you looked at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. “I’m just . . . destined for greater things.” You giggled at your own words, sighing a pleasant hum. “Plus . . . no one else is going to make this happen besides me, so I have to seize the day, right? Isn’t that what you’ve always told me? Never give up?”
Because he had. Ever since the paper ring incident; ever since the two of you grew closer; ever since Yoongi started asking questions about the things you would draw; ever since you started attending his piano recitals, he’d always tell you to get what you really wanted out of life for yourself and not for others. He’d always told you to chase what you desired, and you’d always listened.
Yoongi sighed, resting his head against the headrest of his seat. He lolled his head to the side, meeting your eyes. “I can’t say you’re wrong,” he hummed, sending you a warm smile. “You should chase your dreams. You’ll blow them away with your drawings.” He smiled wider. “I told you I thought they were cool years ago, and I meant it.”
“Well, then,” you began, your head held high with your nose in the air as you tried to come up with words to respond with. “I guess this means you support my decision?”
Yoongi tapped your nose. “You’ll always have my support, kid.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t have gotten off this train even if you forced me,” you huffed, sinking into your seat.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he laughed, his gums showing slightly. “You can’t be controlled. That’s what I like about you. You’re reckless—” he glanced over at you for just a second— “in a good way. Don’t go thinking I’m dissing you. Actually . . . I think I envy you.”
Yoongi was sixteen now. He knew a lot more about the world than you. And you were still only fourteen. You didn’t know who you were. You were sure Yoongi had always known who he was and who he’d become. It was one of the things you admired about him. It was the reason you were on that train. So . . . how did he envy you when he had been the one to teach you to fight for what you wanted?
“Me?” you finally snorted. “Why would you envy me?”
“Because you know what you want.”
“Oh.”
“You always have.”
You turned away, looking out the window. “I wouldn’t say that,” you sheepishly mumbled.
“I would,” he countered, gaining your eyes on him. “You’ve never done anything you didn’t want. You just go for it. Anything you want . . . you go for it.” He nudged you with his elbow. “You’ll go far, kid. You’ll see. Just . . . promise me you won’t forget me when you’re famous.”
You slapped a hand to your chest. “I promise.”
And then Yoongi was sticking out his hand, his pinky on display.
You smiled and locked your pinkies together, shaking. A pinky promise—just like the one he’d offered to you that time you were young and scared of a horror movie your brother had put on. It was another promise shared between you both.
“I promise,” you said again, grinning wider now.
It was silent for a moment as you guys dropped your hands just as the train had begun to move. But it wasn’t quiet for long. It never was with the two of you.
“How long do you think before Jin figures out we’re not there?” Yoongi asked after a minute.
You looked down at your watch. “About . . . tomorrow morning o’clock.”
Yoongi scrunched his nose as he laughed—it was loud and hearty, unlike you’d ever heard before. “Oh, really?”
You only nodded, taking in his laugh. You’d surely remember it for years to come.
“Well, we should probably call him when we get off,” he said, his shoulders still slightly shaking from his laughter. “Wouldn’t want him to have a heart attack when your mom finds out that you’re not in your bed.”
“Fine,” you huffed.
Yoongi patted the top of your head. “Hey, now, don’t sulk,” he began. “They were going to find out about your little mission eventually. You just got to rip off the bandaid.”
“Easier said than done,” you mumbled. “Dad wants me to be a doctor. He says I’m too smart to let it go to waste. He’ll be pissed when he finds out . . . “
“So what’s the plan?” Yoongi asked, although you both knew he wasn’t really asking. You both knew what you were going to do. You had already decided.
And as expected, you said, “I’m gonna go to this art gallery.”
“And then?”
“Even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll keep at it,” you reassured yourself, but you still felt . . . weak. “This is my thing . . . my life. I’ll keep at it even if no one supports me. I’ll make it even if I make it alone.”
Yoongi smiled—it was warm, innocent. “You’ll never have to do anything alone,” he murmured, his voice soft as if he were comforting a small child. “I’ll be here every step of the way. Wherever you are in the world, I’ll support you and hope it reaches you.”
You stared at him for a minute, taking in his words. As you stared, searching his comforting smile, you could feel your eyes growing hot. You didn’t want to cry . . . but . . .
“And if it doesn’t?” you questioned. “Reach me, I mean.”
“Then I’ll come to you,” he said, simply.
Against your will, a tear slipped down your cheek as his words fell.
Yoongi reached forward and wiped the tears from your, still, chubby cheeks. “The day I became friends with Jin, you became my sister, too,” he told you, “so don’t ever think you don’t have me, because you do. You won’t ever have to worry about being alone. Even if you have no one, I’ll always be here. Even if we fight and end up hating each other . . . I’ll always be a call away. You’ll always have me.”
You’ll always have me.
To your heart this would go. These words were too sacred to write in your diary. You’d keep them locked away in your heart, unable to be tainted by the cruel world.
“Promise?” you asked, weakly.
“Promise,” he confirmed, neither of you guys holding out your hands to pinky promise on it. You both knew this pact went beyond silly gestures. There was no need for a pinky swear when you both knew your words to be true. It was as simple as that.
The two of you smiled at each other for a minute after your shared words, before Yoongi dug into his back pocket and pulled out his iPod attached to a pair of cheap wired headphones. “I have a song I want you to hear, kid,” he spoke up, handing you an earbud.
You took it without hesitance, plugging yourself in as the boy did the same and pressed play on this mystery song. And as you listened, you realized the song was entirely instrumental and being played on a . . . piano. And then you realized you recognized the speed of the song, and the style of the keys playing. This was Yoongi playing.
“It’s you,” you breathed out, not able to stop yourself.
“Thoughts?”
“I love it.”
You saw a hint of a smile tug at Yoongi’s lips. “I composed it myself,” he confessed. “I’ve been staying late after school these past few weeks working on it.”
“Has anybody heard it yet?”
“Just you.”
You felt yourself grow hot.
“I just knew you’d get it,” he told you. “Everyone else would tell me I was wasting my time, but I knew you wouldn't.”
“What’s the inspiration behind it?” you questioned, still listening to the sound of the keys.
“What it would be like to leave and grow up . . . in the way I wanted and not the way everyone else wants,” he explained, curtly.
You nodded. You understood. “It could be a reality, you know?”
Yoongi scoffed. “To be a world-renowned jazz musician and travel the world?” he asked, his words sorrowful. He shook his head before you could answer. “I hate to disappoint you, kid, but I believe in you a lot more than I could ever believe in myself.” He scoffed again. “You’ve got talent. No, you’ve got the talent everyone thinks they have but don’t, because you’ll make it while everyone else won’t.” He looked at you then, his eyes soft but sad. “We’re different, you and I. I’m not like you. I won’t make it. Besides, my parents would never support me if I even thought about going down that road.”
“You can call yourself Gloss,” you simply said, ignoring his words.
He said your name in a whisper, trailing off.
There it was again. The way he said your name with such sorrow as if he didn’t want to disappoint you by continuing his sentence. But, you would continue for him.
“If you can support me so blindly, then why can’t I support you?” you questioned.
He stayed quiet.
And you continued. “When I don’t believe in myself, I believe in you and I do this because I know you believe in me. That is how I get through things. When I believe in you, I can do anything,” you spoke, your words getting trapped in your throat as it became harder to speak. “So, I say do what makes you happy. And when it gets too hard to believe you can make it; to believe in yourself, then believe in me and it will give you strength.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Believe in me because I believe in you.”
Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek, but still, he did not speak.
“OK?” you spoke for him.
He nodded.
“OK,” you reassured yourself as you shuffled toward him, locking your arm with his as you rested your head on his shoulder.
A second later you felt Yoongi lean his head on yours, and your heart glowed golden.
“When did you get so smart?” he asked after a minute, intertwining your hand with his.
You snorted. “I always have been.”
“Cocky.”
“No, just confident.”
“Shut it.”
You laughed.
Another second of silence before Yoongi snorted and asked, “Why Gloss?”
“Because your lips are always glossy, duh,” you retorted. “I swear it’s like you’re constantly drooling, Yoon.”
Yoongi scoffed. “I do not drool.”
“Slobber, then?”
“You’re pushing it, kid.”
You only grinned, ear to ear.
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At fifteen, you swore you felt your heart break for the first time.
You had gone to meet Hari in the parking lot outside of school before you went to the school’s studio to work on some of your paintings when you saw them. Standing near a secluded part of the parking lot stood Min Yoongi with a girl, the two of them leaning against his car. And no, they weren’t just talking, unless you considered talking to be Yoongi sticking his tongue down the girl’s throat and his hand inching toward the hem of her skirt.
Which . . . you did not.
And you certainly couldn’t contain your shock as you gaped at them and spat out, “What, the fuck?”
The two teenagers jumped slightly at the intrusion and glanced over to see who had caught them. Yoongi found your eyes first, his growing in size as he realized you had caught him. It wasn’t that he felt guilty, you knew that, but it was the fact that he knew it would be awkward between you both, because . . . well . . . just yesterday he was blowing spitballs your way through a straw and now you had just seen him with his tongue down a girl's throat.
“Fuck,” he managed to mutter out as he detached himself from the girl and caught sight of you standing and looking at him in shock.
But you weren’t staring at him in shock. No, you were standing still because if you moved, you were sure you’d end up letting a few tears fall. It wasn’t that you didn’t know Yoongi wasn’t a virgin anymore. You knew. You’d heard Jin go on and on about how Yoongi hooked up with his jazz band partner or how he went down on some girl in the girl’s bathroom last month. You had heard it all, and every time it’d gnaw at your flesh just a tad. But this . . .
Actually catching Yoongi in the act was something you never wanted to see because you knew you wouldn’t have been able to handle it. You’d always wonder what it would be like to be that girl he was with. But you knew that could never be. You were Seokjin’s little sister. Yoongi couldn’t have you in that way, even if he wanted to or even if you were older, because of the very fact that you were Kim Seokjin’s sister, and that meant that you would always be off-limits.
So when you saw them, all you wanted to do was cry.
But you had grown into your skin a little more now. You were not brittle or weak, and you certainly did not let anyone see you cry. And you would not have Min Yoongi see you cry over him like he had seen when you were twelve and gave him that stupid paper ring that you still foolishly kept in a drawer in your room.
That was exactly why you turned completely around and walked back toward the school when you made eye contact with Yoongi, then drifted to the girl’s face, recognizing her as Han Daeun. You didn’t want to see it. They could continue for all you cared. But, fuck, did it hurt.
And when you didn’t hear anyone come after you, you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks as you silently cried. Until . . .
Yoongi’s voice filtered through your ears and he was . . . yelling your name.
You only walked quicker, almost breaking into a sprint, but Yoongi was faster. The boy secured his hand around your arm before you could bolt away from him. You quickly wiped your tears away before he could see them as you turned around to meet his eyes.
“What?” you questioned, your voice curt. You knew how you looked—cold and vacant, but you didn’t care. You were hurt.
Yoongi breathed out through his nose and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” you hissed, your voice coming out harsher than you intended. “You can do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“Don’t be like that,” Yoongi pleaded, his voice as calm as ever. He always sounded like that—collected and calm, which you usually admired, but right now, it made you want to bite his head off.
You took a step toward him, sending him a challenging look. “Like what?”
“Come on, kid,” Yoongi scoffed. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“I don’t care.”
He said your name in a whisper, trailing off.
“Look, I get it, you think I’ve got this big crush on you,” you began, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t need you to protect my feelings. In fact, I don’t have any anymore, not for you. So I don’t need you coming after me, apologizing like I’m some stupid little kid.”
Yoongi sighed, running his hands through his jet-black hair. “I just know how you get. I don’t want to hurt you.”
You couldn’t help the scoff that left you. “Oh, please, you’re so fucking full of yourself,” you spat. “Just because I had a stupid crush on you when I was a kid, does not mean I still have one. Got it?”
Yoongi only looked at you, his face blank. “Look, kid, I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered. “I just don’t want you to—” He cut himself off, attempting to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you pulled away.
“Think I have a chance with you?” you finished for him, seething.
Yoongi only dropped his hand, his head dropping with it as he squeezed his eyes shut in regret. It was perhaps the first emotion he had shown you like this. And it managed to piss you off even more.
He still thought you were some dumb kid.
Well . . .
. . . he could go fuck himself.
Another scoff fell from your lips. “Heard you loud and clear,” you bit out. “But next time, Yoongi, maybe don’t chase after me. Wouldn’t want the crazy obsessed little girl to think you might like her.” And with that, you turned around and stormed off to paint your feelings.
He called out to you.
But you only flipped him off.
And Yoongi didn’t follow you.
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On your sixteenth birthday, you made sure you got absolutely plastered.
Your parents were away for the weekend, so that meant Seokjin had made it his personal mission to throw his baby sister the best sweet sixteen yet. And that meant booze, booze, and more booze.
He’d invited the guys from his basketball team that had now become nothing more than a few friends coming together every once in a while to play against each other now that they were all ready to go off to college in the new semester. Hari, of course, was one of the first people to come over way before the actual party started, bringing along with her Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, two boys in her class who she had grown close to that school year. That also meant you had grown close to them too, but that wasn’t much of a surprise given your outgoing personality.
(Let’s just say you had gained some attention as time passed, the rumors about you being a snob, trickling into nothing.)
And if they were invited, then that meant your brother no doubt had also invited Min Yoongi.
One problem: you had been avoiding Yoongi since you caught him and Daeun up against his car earlier that year.
So you decided getting drunk was your best bet.
And you did, in fact, get drunk. Maybe that was an understatement. You were completely and utterly out of your mind, shooting back shots of vodka with Jimin, meanwhile, Taehyung and Hari laughed at the two of you the drunker you became. Hell, at one point, you were sure you told Jimin you loved him . . . that was how drunk you were.
You’d caught Yoongi’s eyes a few times that night, glaring briefly before you looked away. You had a mission that night: get your first kiss, and if you kept making eye contact with him you feared you’d accidentally let it slip that you wanted him to be the one to kiss you even though you knew he never would. So, every time you’d make eye contact with him, you’d look away and take a shot.
It wasn’t until you started to lose count of how many shots you took that you realized that maybe getting drunk was not the best plan. And as the night came to a close, everyone drunk and gleeful, you tried to make your way to the bathroom, but found yourself not being able to walk up the stairs. You just kept falling over.
And after the fifth time you fell over, you felt strong, warm arms wrap around your body. One arm went under your knees, the other wrapping around your back, carrying you bridal style, and you didn’t complain (partially because if you opened your mouth, you’d end up puking on the person).
You lost track of time after that. You remembered getting to the bathroom, puking as much as you could before you felt someone wipe your mouth and proceed to help you brush your teeth. You remembered being picked up again and carried somewhere. Only when you were laid on something soft did you realize you were laying on your bed in your room while the person carefully took off your heels and shoved on a comfortable sweatshirt over the dress you were wearing. But the person didn’t dare to remove your clothes. Instead, they kept you in your dress accompanied by the sweatshirt before they pulled back the covers of your bed and tucked you in.
And you let this all happen because for some odd reason you felt . . . safe.
Only when the person sat down, their weight making the bed dip, did you flutter your eyes open enough to see that Min Yoongi had been the one to take care of you. You almost puked again at the thought out of pure nerves.
“Hey, kid,” he began, slowly as he brushed a hand over your forehead. He grabbed something from your nightstand and brought it to your lips. “Take a drink.” You realized it was a water bottle he had picked up. “It’ll help.”
And you did as you were told, for once.
When you were done, you stuck out your bottom lip, pouting. “I’m mad at you,” you whined as you weakly smacked his face, trying to push him away.
Calm as ever, Yoongi simply grabbed your wrist, halting you. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re—I hate you.”
“Fair.”
“I’m still mad.”
“I know.”
You sniffled. You didn’t want to cry, but the alcohol in your bloodstream was impacting your emotions. “You’re mean,” you huffed, jutting out your bottom lip as it quivered. “I hate that you make me feel this way.”
A sigh left Yoongi. “I know.”
It was silent for perhaps far too long.
Then Yoongi spoke. “Can I tell you something?”
“Hmm.”
“I got a gig,” he confessed. “It’s at this underground jazz place.”
All previous sadness left you then. You couldn’t help it. You sprung forward, looking at Yoongi through droopy eyes, but the grin on your face was wide. “Really?!”
A smile tugged at Yoongi’s lips. “Yes.”
You patted his shoulder. “That’s great, Yoon,” you hummed. “You’ll blow them away.”
Another second of silence. You fell back to your bed, resting your cheek on your hand.
And it was silent, until Yoongi spoke again. “I’d like it if you’d come,” he mumbled, his voice quiet and for the first time, you questioned if this was the first time you were truly hearing Yoongi let go of that calm exterior.
“Why would you want me there?” you questioned, sulking slightly. You knew you hadn’t been the nicest to him recently. In fact, you thought you guys were drifting apart.
“When I couldn't believe in myself, I believed in you and that gave me strength,” the boy spoke, his words soft. “That’s what you told me that day on the train. Your words didn’t go over my head. I’ve cherished them just as I’ve cherished our friendship.”
His words only stung your heart. Friendship. You knew this by now but it still hurt.
“I hope you know how much you mean to me, kid,” he went on. “You’ve given me hope, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to stand beside me when I take that first step other than you.” A laugh left his lips then. “To be honest, I don’t think I can do it without you. You’re kind of my good luck charm.”
You hummed, “Good luck charm?”
Yoongi only tapped your nose in response, something he had been doing since childhood. It was a sign of affection. It was perhaps the only affection Yoongi ever really showed as hugging wasn’t his style and telling people how he felt had always been too hard for him to fathom. But you yearned for it nonetheless.
“I’ll come,” you said after a minute. “But . . . can I ask you something first?”
“Hmm.”
You opened one eye, peeking at him. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Yoongi tilted his head to the side in thought. “Well . . . “
“Yoonie, please,” you whined, lightly slapping his chest.
That only earned you a laugh from the boy beside you. “OK, OK, what is it, kid?”
You stayed silent for only a second before you shot your hand forward, your pinky on display. “Pinky promise?”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but locked his pinky with yours and shook. “Pinky promise,” he murmured, softly. “Now what’s your question?”
“Can you kiss me?”
Your question was like a bullet going off in the darkness of your room. It silenced everything, and you felt it slowly swallow you whole.
And with your heart pounding in your throat, you took your chances (again). “I don’t want it to be with anyone else,” you went on, your voice pleading as you locked your pinky with his. “It’s my first. It’s supposed to be special.” You squeezed his pinky finger. “You’re special to me.”
But Yoongi pulled away, unlocking your pinkies in the process.
The older boy said your full name in a whisper, trailing off. He didn’t refer to you as his prodigy or as kid. He just simply called you by your name, and you knew what that meant.
“Don’t say it,” you quickly rushed out, putting a hand up. You couldn’t hear him say those words again. Your heart couldn’t take it. “I’ve been rejected enough to know what that means.”
Yoongi rested a hand in your hair. “Please,” he whispered, his voice weak and anxious, not the soft calm it normally was. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re one of my favorite people, but I just . . . you’re like a little sister to me.”
You buried your face in your hands. “God,” you cried into your hands, your voice being muffled. “This is so embarrassing.”
You felt Yoongi stroke your hair, and you just knew he was giving you that same sympathetic look he always sent your way. “You’ll have your first kiss, kid,” the boy spoke up again, breaking your heart even further. “And it’ll be with someone so much better than me. You’ll see, kid. I promise.”
He didn’t dare lock his pinky with yours this time around. He just let the silence consume you. But you didn’t care about the deafening silence; all you could hear were his words repeating in your head over and over again.
It’ll be with someone so much better than me, he had said, and you felt the urge to scream, because all you could think was, But I wanted it to be with you.
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Despite the ache in your heart, you did end up going to Yoongi’s first gig. You had dressed in your nicest clothes, and gone with a smile on your face. And when he played, you felt the keys were playing to the hum of the beat of your heart. You were crazy to think that this song the boy had composed had been made for you, but you still allowed yourself to think it. Hell, you wished for it, even if, deep down, you knew it had never been meant for you.
And when his set came to a close, he glanced out at the audience, a small, strained smile on his face as his eyes searched the crowd. Only when his eyes had landed on you, did he stop searching as he let a wide grin break out on his face, and you could have sworn your heart stopped right then.
There was that wide, gummy grin that sat on his face as he bowed to the audience before he quickly rushed over to you. “You came,” he breathed out as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you in for a hug. (Something that he never did.)
“When I told you you would always have my support, I meant it, Min Yoongi,” was all you responded with as you embraced him. And you had meant that.
Because you had never admitted it before, but you knew why you would do anything for Min Yoongi. You knew why you would always support him. You knew why your heart beat a little faster when he was near. You knew why you cared so much about his opinion. You knew what you felt for him.
You loved him.
So while Yoongi thought your friendship would continue to flourish, you weren’t sure how much of this you could take. You were sure it’d break you completely one day.
You had to fix this. You couldn’t have a life without him in it, but you also couldn’t live a life waiting for someone who would never look your way.
And then you realized one thing: you were entirely fucked.
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You quickly figured out how to get over Min Yoongi. How exactly would you do this? Boys.
Although you weren’t entirely sure it helped all that much, you convinced yourself it did. So just as the school year was coming to an end, you set out on a mission: kiss a boy. And by the end of that week, you had completed it.
You’d invited Kim Namjoon—a boy in your year who just so happened to sit next to you in a few of your classes—over to your house one evening. Your parents would be out, and you were sure Seokjin would be preoccupied with Yoongi and Hoseok. So that meant, you’d be alone. Correction, you’d be alone with Namjoon and that was exactly what you wanted.
It did not take long before you hooked one leg over the boy, straddling his waist as the two of you made out on your bed. And while you didn’t hate kissing the boy, you couldn’t help but imagine you were actually kissing Yoongi instead, because you knew for a damn fact Yoongi would not be beating around the bush, too afraid to stick his tongue in your mouth.
You knew Yoongi would be gentle, but you also knew that wouldn’t last long. He’d surely end up biting your bottom lip, desperately asking for you to comply with his request before he slipped his tongue into your mouth. And you knew he’d taste just as good as he smelled.
But . . . you weren’t kissing Yoongi, instead, your first kiss was with Namjoon, and while it wasn’t bad . . . it wasn’t what you wanted. However, you wanted a distraction. You wanted more, and you were sure Namjoon didn’t mind as he had just told you he didn’t want to go into his final two years of high school with a girlfriend. Which . . . fair, you supposed. Pregaming for college?
You were fine with that.
In fact, you were entirely fine with that as you deepened the kiss, lightly tugging on his bottom lip before you pulled your shirt over your head, leaving your chest only to be covered by a bra.
Namjoon tugged his bottom lip under his teeth as he glanced down at your bare skin. He was leaning toward you a second later about to connect your lips again when the door to your bedroom slammed open.
“I got another gig!” the intruder cried out in glee. “Kid—oh.”
Standing in the middle of your doorway was Min Yoongi dressed in a blank tank and baggy black sweatpants to match. His hair was a little longer now, but what stuck out the most was the look on his face as he caught you sitting on the lap of some random boy he had never met with your shirt entirely off.
Yoongi nodded his head toward Namjoon. “Get out,” he spat, his voice calm, but menacing.
You groaned at him, sliding off of your classmate. “Oh, get a grip, Yoongi,” you hissed as you slipped your shirt back on.
But Yoongi was adamant. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at you once. His narrowing gaze was on Namjoon and Namjoon only as he ordered once more, “Get out.”
Namjoon stayed quiet, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
You, however, did not keep your mouth shut. “Seriously?”
A muscle in Yoongi’s jaw twitched. “Jin!”
At that you jumped up, pulling Namjoon to his feet. “You, motherfucker!” you hissed at the older boy as you quickly shoved Namjoon out of your room. You shoved Yoongi’s chest, hard, before you waved to the boy retreating out of your house. “Bye, Joon. Call you later.”
When you both heard the front door slam shut, Yoongi set his sights on you. His jaw was locked, his eyes angry and full of a fire you had never seen before. And then came his words, “Are you fucking serious?”
You didn’t miss the way he spat his words as if they were tiny daggers aiming for your heart. Instead, you put up the front you had grown into over the years and shoved past him. “Eat me,” you muttered with malice as you made your way down the stairs.
But Yoongi didn’t leave it at that. At the bottom of the stairs, he reached you, wrapping his hand around your arm as he tugged you toward him. And with your eyes finally on him again, he asked, perhaps a little harsher now, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
A sly grin slid onto your face. “So you can make out with girls and practically finger them against your car, but I kiss a boy and the world ends?”
His jaw twitched again. “You don’t get it,” he began, his voice low so your brother wouldn’t hear. “Boys your age only want one thing. I’m trying to protect you.”
You narrowed your eyes. “I can protect myself,” you protested as you ripped your arm out of his grasp. “I’m not a little girl, you know? I’m sixteen. I don’t need you to tie my shoes or block the screen when a scary part comes on during a horror movie.”
“You don’t know anything about guys like that,” Yoongi said again, not truly hearing your words.
“And you do?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s that?” you beckoned, putting your hands on your hips and tilting your head as if you were challenging him. “Because you’re one of them?”
He began to say your name.
But this time you cut him off before he could give you that look again. “Don’t,” you uttered, putting your hand up. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you anymore.”
Your words lingered in the air.
I don’t need you anymore.
Yoongi’s face softened.
He dropped his hand, taking a step back. There was this wall slowly being put up between the two of you, and you both knew it. You had felt it for a long time now, but chose to ignore it. You were sure Yoongi felt it now, too.
“What the fuck are you guys fighting about?” Seokjin’s voice intruded in on your conversation (or lack thereof).
The two of you did not turn to glance at Seokjin, though. You kept staring at each other, Yoongi’s eyes now soft and wide while you held your stance, your eyes narrowed and sharp. It was almost as if you were challenging each other to see who would let go of the other first.
You looked away first.
You stormed away from the Min boy, approaching your brother as you shot your hand out and punched him in the shoulder. “Fuck you,” you spat as your fist collided with your brother’s shoulder.
“Ow, she hit me,” Seokjin gasped, looking between the two of you. “She’s mad at you and she hit me.”
“Respectfully, Jin . . . shut the fuck up,” was all Yoongi said.
“I don’t think I will,” Seokjin scoffed, turning around to set his sights on you as you headed for the front door. “Yah—”
But you cut him off, once again. “Fuck you!” And with that, you slammed the door, walking further away from your brother and the boy who held your heart. You knew you shouldn't have said those things, but . . .
Fuck you, Jin. That was it. That was all you felt. Just—Fuck you. For what exactly? You didn’t really know.
Fuck you for intruding?
Fuck you for being your brother?
Fuck you for being friends with Min Yoongi?
Fuck you . . . for bringing him into your life.
That—
That was it.
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It was the brief break before you went into your junior year of high school when you lost your virginity. And it was nothing like how you used to dream it to be.
You’d been invited to a bonfire by Jimin who had dragged Hari and Taehyung along with him, begging for you to join them as well. But you had been hesitant.
See, the thing was: Hari and Taehyung seemed to have something going on, so that meant they’d spend the entire night together while Jimin would probably be off trying to get the number of one of the girls from the cheer squad and maybe try to snatch the digits from one of their football player counterparts. That all left you to be alone. Now, you’d gotten used to being alone over the years, opting to put on this extroverted front so you didn’t feel so lonely in a crowd of people, and normally you liked that. Normally you liked being out there and aloof like your paintings . . . but you hadn’t been feeling it that night.
The reason for your dull attitude? Min Yoongi.
You hadn’t spoken to Yoongi in two weeks. You knew he'd be leaving for college soon, but you were stubborn. You’d ignored him when he’d come over to the house to hang out with your older brother. Even when he called your name to get your attention, you’d turn your head, nose held high as you ran off to your bedroom and locked the door.
It wasn’t that you hated him. You just couldn’t bear to see him.
So your only option? Get drunk and get over it.
And you had gotten drunk, and you had tried to get over it (to get over him), by getting under someone else. So on the night of the bonfire, you lost your virginity in the back of a beat-up car to a boy you never even learned the name of.
Truth be told, you didn’t want to learn his name. That would make it real—the fact you had lost your virginity and it wasn’t with the person you loved.
You’d forced yourself to tell the unnamed boy that it was good and you had a fun time. Then you’d gotten dressed, texted your friends that you’d head home by yourself, and left.
You’d ended up back at your house around three in the morning, completely sober and not really caring if you slammed the door a little. Your parents were away for the week on business or whatever, and you were sure Seokjin wouldn’t be home, so who cared?
But, just your luck, when you had gone to your room, changed into a sweatshirt and shorts, then made your way to your backyard to dip your feet in the pool, you caught sight of the one person you had been trying to avoid.
“Do you ever go home?” you groaned out as you stared at Min Yoongi, who was currently shooting hoops in your backyard.
Yoongi stilled, his back stiff. But he didn’t turn to look at you.
So you went on, “It’s three in the morning, you know? You can sleep.”
“I couldn’t,” was all he said. “Boyfriend drop you off?”
“More like fuck buddy,” you lied.
A scoff came from Yoongi. “You’re too young for that.”
“Like you don’t fuck?”
He murmured your name, trailing off, giving you that same look. He looked at you as if you were still that same stupid little girl who he gave a slice of pizza to while you stood in the doorway, trying to get his attention. But you weren’t. That wasn’t you anymore, and you wanted him to know that.
“You don’t get to tell me how to live my life,” you stated, firmly. “I am not a little girl anymore.”
Yoongi gave you a sympathetic look, and you wanted to deck him. “You’re only sixteen,” he spoke, calm as ever. “You deserve more than . . . boys like that.”
You rolled your eyes. “Of course, you’d say that. Shocker,” you huffed as you plopped down at the edge of the pool, your feet dangling in the water.
It was silent for only a second before you felt something smack into your back. You released a gasp and looked for the source, finding that Yoongi had just bounced the basketball off your back.
“What the fuck?!” you yelled, not caring if your snobby neighbors heard.
“Sorry,” Yoongi hummed, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “It slipped.”
You felt nuclear. “Bullshit!” you shouted as you sprung to your feet and lunged for the older boy. You jumped at him, locking your arms around his neck and hooking your legs around his waist, trying to tackle him to the ground. “You’re a piece of shit, Min Yoongi!”
A laugh only erupted from Yoongi. “You know, this is amusing?” he chuckled, swinging you from side to side. “It’s like carrying around a backpack or a baby koala.”
You were not impressed. “You’re a bitch!” you yelled again, pounding your fist into his chest, but doing no damage whatsoever.
“Me?” he questioned, adding a light teasing scoff to his words. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”
“Because you don’t know when to give it a drink!”
“You’re the one climbing me like a goddamn tree!”
“Yeah! Because you left me no choice!”
The boy suddenly pried you off of him, clasping his hands around your wrists as he bent down to be eye level with you. His jaw was tight and his eyes were narrowed. He’d never looked at you like this before.
You stilled in his grasp.
And then he spoke, “What choice have you ever given me?”
“What?”
“Don’t do that,” he grumbled. “You know what I mean.”
You tore your wrists out of his grasp and he let you. “No, I don’t.”
“For years, I’ve known you had a crush on me, and I tried to be careful about it,” he began, his jaw still tight. “I’ve tried to be your friend. I’ve tried to tell you that I can’t be anything more because you’re you and I don’t ever want to hurt you.” He took a deep breath in. “And I know that’s, in turn, what’s been hurting you—our friendship.”
You stayed silent.
Yoongi only continued, “You are my favorite person I think possibly in this entire world, but . . . I can't give myself to you in the way you want.” He blinked, his eyes glossy. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’ve given me no choice.”
You’ve given me no choice, and you knew you hadn’t.
“Instead, you avoid me and get mad at me for this, and I don’t know what to do anymore about it,” he confessed, the night making his eyes appear woeful. “So I’ll ask you again, kid, what other choice do I have?”
And for once in your life, you didn’t know what to say.
So the only response you could fathom was, “I’m sorry.” And then the floodgates opened, and the tears spilled, your sobs soon swallowing you whole. “I—I’m so sorry, Yoon. I wish I could stop it. I’m sorry. I’m so—“
That was all it took for Yoongi to let down the tough exterior he always wore. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and hugging you tightly. He didn’t like hugs, but he’d put up with them for you.
You slowly embraced him, weakly clutching onto his shirt as you buried your face into his chest. You hadn’t known exactly what pushed you over the edge. Perhaps it was everything all at once.
And then everything really did hit you all at once.
You realized what happened that night. You realized you’d lost your virginity in a way that made you feel worthless. You realized you’d been hurting Yoongi just as you’d been hurting yourself. And then you realized he had graduated. He’d be leaving for college soon. He wouldn’t be here anymore.
Yoongi would be gone, and you’d still be there, right where he left you.
That, perhaps, was the second time you felt your heart truly break. Because Yoongi meant more to you than that. His friendship had brought beautiful technicolor to your life. He’d been the one to support you when no one else had. He’d been there, and he wouldn’t be anymore in a few months.
How could you let him go?
And then, for the millionth time that night, you embarrassed yourself again. You rasped in a loud breath and sobbed, “I lost my virginity tonight.”
“Oh.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, it’s just—“ he pulled back, slightly, to meet your eyes— “I didn’t expect that.”
“Well, it happened.”
“Was it—“ he made a face— “good?”
You couldn’t help it, you whined out a sob. “No!” you slapped your hands against your face. “It was awful, and he smelled like fucking asparagus!”
“Oh.”
“I know!”
Next came a pat on your shoulder. “It’ll get better,” he reassured. “Like wine . . . better with age.”
Your hands slid down your face. “You are the worst person I know.”
A laugh erupted from Yoongi, revealing his gums as his shoulders shook. “You love me.”
“I loathe you,” you corrected, finger high in the air.
“Yeah, kid—“ he tapped your nose— “I loathe you, too.”
Your face slowly fell. Not because he had said something wrong, but because of the thoughts that consumed your brain. In a few months, you wouldn’t get to hear him joke with you like that. You wouldn’t get to have him anymore.
“You wanna know the worst part about it?” you questioned, eyes flicking up to meet his.
Yoongi nodded, growing solemn.
“I should be more upset about losing my virginity to some loser, but instead, I’m here trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’ll be gone soon,” you confessed, trying not to feel like a stupid child.
Yoongi nodded again, his eyes now on his shoes. “I’ll visit.”
“But . . . I don’t want you to leave,” you mumbled, weakly.
A hint of a warm smile lifted onto Yoongi’s face, but he didn’t glance up to look at you. “I’ll miss you, too, kid,” he whispered, his voice quiet and weak almost as if he were having trouble getting the words out.
And when he did glance up, his eyes were slightly reddened, but you didn’t pull any attention to it.
“Are we . . . OK?” he asked the question the both of you were avoiding.
You sniffled. “We have to be,” you affirmed. “You’re my hope, Yoon. We have to be OK.”
Yoongi pulled you into him again, consuming your body with his as he rested his chin on top of your head and let you bury your face into his chest. You’d let him hold you forever if you could. But for now . . . this was enough.
“I’ll always be a call away,” he mumbled into your hair.
“I know.”
“And I’ll always pick up.”
“I know.”
Silence for a second.
Then, he spoke again, “You give me strength, kid.”
“That’s all I’ve ever hoped for.” 
You felt him nod.
“Just promise me one thing?” you questioned.
“Anything for my prodigy.”
You snorted, but your heart felt heavy. “Just promise me no matter what happens even if we fight and never see each other again that you’ll always remember you have my support,” you spoke, softly and quietly. “Never feel like it’s a burden. It’s free and unconditional. It’s for you to keep forever, even if you end up hating me in the end. I will always support you.”
“I promise.”
“No—” you reached for his pinky— “pinky promise me.”
Yoongi snorted, softly, but nevertheless, locked his pinky with yours and shook.
“Promise.”
Silence once again. This time it wasn’t uncomfortable, until . . .
“Well—” Yoongi huffed into your hair— “B-ball time. Wanna scrimmage? One-on-one?”
You snorted and slapped his chest. “I hate you.”
Yoongi scrunched his nose before he briefly pressed his lips to your forehead. “You love me, kid.”
You faked a gag, which caused Yoongi to burst out laughing.
“I fuckin’ hate you,” he laughed, shaking his head as the wide gummy grin never left his face.
You only smiled. “Ditto.”
As the two of you spent the early hours of the morning fighting to win the one-on-one basketball match you’d started, you made peace with it all. If this were to be the last happy moment with him, you’d cherish it. No matter what. You’d cherish it forever.
And . . . you did.
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mykoreanlove · 2 months
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🏀 Ballin‘
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Yoongi loved meeting you on an abandoned playground late at night after he was done with the day‘s struggles.
He once found this place randomly on a nightly stroll. There was a basketball court, dimly lit and sheltered from the world - ideal for his private getaway with you.
His day had been packed with different schedules, each one more stressful than the next. Poor boy didn’t even have time to change into his beloved #3 jersey.
Yoongi practically ran over here because he needed the release. He needed to blow of some steam with his favorite sport. He needed to move his body and forget about his brain.
But what he needed the most was you.
He watched you miss shot after shot with a sly smirk on his lips.
Yoongi loved to observe you, especially in moments you felt unnoticed. He saw the frustration in your face - the knitted brows paired with your tense shoulders, alarming him that you were pissed off.
„Seems like you need a little motivation.“
You turned to face him.
God, he was beautiful. The long hair slid back accentuating his unique features, his chic clothes which made him look like a million bucks and the cunning smile on his lips made him irresistible to you.
„Each time you make the ball go through the hoop I’m going to kiss you.“
You bit your lip, trying your best to hide your smile. What your beloved Yoongi didn’t know was that you were an ace at basketball, only pretending to fail to get closer to him.
You batted your eyelashes at him, smiling sweetly.
„Let’s hope I make it.“
You turned around with precision and threw the ball - right into the hoop.
„Wooohoo“, you jumped up and down happily, pretending to be lucky.
Yoongi raised a brow, catching on too quickly. He walked over to you and put his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
His scent was intoxicating, he was like a drug to you.
Yoongi leaned in for a kiss, his lips brushing yours slightly while whispering.
„Beginner‘s luck, huh?“
His voice was raspy, even deeper than usual. Goosebumps formed on your skin, desire was spreading through your veins like a wildfire.
You crashed your lips on his, pulling him closer until there was nothing left in between you. He tasted delicious, like a mixture of cognac and mint. His tongue danced with yours, fighting for dominance in this game for two.
Yoongi broke off the kiss, taking a deep breath.
„Don’t be too greedy, baby. You only shot once.“
You rolled your eyes and slapped his chest, too needy to be played with like that.
„You don’t want to kiss me? Fine.“
You let go of him and turned around but felt him yank you right back. Your hands flat on his broad chest, your head looking up into his dangerously glistening eyes. His tongue glided over his lips, not breaking eye contact once.
„Actually… I wanna do way more than kiss you, baby.“
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bangtanficsforyou · 4 months
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Little White Lies (M)- Teaser
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Pairing: Professor Min Yoongi x Student Reader
Genre: SMUT IN ALL CAPS, there's some angst and then there's fluff!
Rating: 18+
Summary: going out on a date is harmless, right? Wrong. Especially when your hot professor is also at the very same resturant and is sitting right across from you.
To be published: 20th Dec on my patreon (early access)
A/N: I really don't like the banner, I'd most probably change it later!
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“Thought it’d take you longer,” he drawls slowly, his eyes holding amusement and something sinister. Your cheeks heat up at his words and he chuckles. “Although, I'm glad that you knew better than to keep me waiting.”
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If you want to read an exclusive sneak peek from this one shot, head over to my patreon!!!!! Also, any form of support is appreciated. I love you guys 🥺❤️.
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missywritesfor7 · 3 months
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❤️‍🩹Lifeline | Masterlist❤️‍🩹
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Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.
Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC
Status: Ongoing
Word count: TBD
Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS
Ch 1: Love
Ch 2: Taboo
Ch 3: Stunt
Ch 4: Who?
Ch 5: Drink
Ch 6: Drank
Ch 7: Drunk
Ch 8: Caught in a Lie
Ch 9: Gone
Ch 10: Love & Hate
Ch 11: Out of Sight
Ch 12: Guilty
Ch 13: Weight
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eleni-cherie · 8 months
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a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg [COMPLETED] masterlist
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"so eager to be in a headlock again?"
"only if it's by you."
he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble.
[sequel to 'among thieves || bts • pjm' - can be read independently!!]
© 2023 | eleni_cherie
»»»
list of all chapters:
intro | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 1.0 | 1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5 | 1.6 | 1.7 | 1.8 | epilogue
— word count: 72k
— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l
I don't wanna spoil too much, but all members play a role in this story!
— song recommendations/inspirations:
agust d - haegeum
(g)i-dle - dahlia
the neighbourhood - sweater weather
marina - superstar
zayn - rear view & love like this
»»»
COPYRIGHT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS JIMIN FANFIC "AMONG THIEVES". TBH I DIDN'T PLAN TO WRITE THIS YOONGI SEQUEL BUT THEN I SAW THE FOLLOWING GIFS OF HIM AND SOYEON BACK TO BACK AND WAS LIKE "GODDAMN I NEED TO WRITE ABOUT THESE TWO!!!"
PROTAGONISTS:
MIN YOONGI AS HIMSELF; RETIRED THIEF / MASTER SWORD FIGHTER / INVOLUNTARY GETAWAY DRIVER
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JEON SOYEON AS HERSELF; HUNTED NORMIE / FUGITIVE SONGWRITER / INVOLUNTARY STOWAWAY
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ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.
SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)
NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.
DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))
DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC. BUT ESPECIALLY TO @taexual​ WHO HELPED ME WITH THE DESCRIPTION AND MANY OTHER THINGS!
CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES AS WELL:
polaris ✨ bts • kth
private affair ✨ ksj
8 mile ✨ myg
lonely hearts club ✨ kth
among thieves ✨ bts • pjm
-Elenixx
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mymuseagustd · 1 year
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#3 All I Want Is A Break
Angsty cause this job hunting process is relentless. 
Y/N and Yoongi are best friends, then lovers, until he decides he wants to find out what life can be without her. 
Pairing: Yoongi x female reader + Taehung 
Genre: Non-IdolAU / Angst / Smut in the next part 
Warnings: Curse words/ heartache/ it’s quite angsty and will have smut if we continue. 
Word count: 3.8K+
Note: Picked up my old writing to give it something new. Let me know how you like it? 
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It's strange. I'm standing in front of him. I know him. I know this man inside out. Have you ever stood in front of someone you have known your entire life, but they suddenly felt like a stranger to you? I could hear him speaking, and he was not making sense to me. 
"Don't you want to, maybe, see other people? Know how they are? Know how you'll be with them? Will you be someone different, or will you be the same? I mean, you and I know each other inside out. But, we don't know how anybody else is! We don't know how great or, even worse, it might be if we are with other people. Don't you ever feel like finding out?"
This was Yoongi, my Yoongi. My best friend since we were 7, boyfriend since - did it matter? He wanted to explore being with other people. 
"Think about it, Y/N," He didn't stop. "Jae and I were discussing this. How the different relationships change you, and how they make you grow? Have you never thought about this? Don't look at me like that," He rolled his eyes. 
He rolled his eyes as I stared, sitting in front of him, my brain trying to catch up and pre-empt his next dialogue. 
"It's been too long? Don't you feel so? We have always been together! Exploring, or even I don't know, taking a break isn't a bad idea. To just discover ourselves…" He took another sip of the beer he had poured for us. My glass remained untouched. His, refilled twice, was almost empty. 
This entire week had felt off. It felt like the music had changed, and I didn't know the artist anymore. He went on. His life-changing discussion with our friends. Our friends? His friends. Life-changing decisions, all in the two dinners I missed. "It's just a break. Nothing more," His decision was made. When my boyfriend decided something, he went through with it. "We spend some time apart from each other. I'll go live with Jae, and we can just explore and see life without each other in our lives. Just a small break," He said so easily.
"You're my best friend." My first words as I tried to make sense of the situation. He had been my best friend since 7. We did everything together since we were 7. And, when we started dating, I needed no one else. 
"And you're mine. But, listen to me," he took my hands in his, pulling me out of my static stance, and shaking me up to see what was happening. "We need to know who we are, without each other too. I think it is healthy for me to want that. I'm not saying I want to break up. I just want a break from yo-" I pulled my hands away. "That's not what I mean." He realised he fucked up with the wrong words. Like he had not been fucking up till now. I knew him inside out. 
Maybe he could see the betrayal on my face or the tears welling up in my eyes. I was having an out-of-body experience. It felt like I could see myself breaking down, but that hurt hadn't seeped in yet. "What I mean is, I just want to know life as a person of my own. Who I am without us being together cause we have been together was so long. I want to know, do I actually like apple pie, or do I like it because you like it? That discussion just had me thinking if I can be the best for you if I'm not my own person." 
"So, you're basically saying that you don't want me in your life anymore?" I frowned.
"Don't be dramatic," He sighed. 
I laughed. "That's literally what you just said." 
"I don't know why you aren't getting this." He raised his voice. "You know, Maria said you won't get it, and you don't." he shook his head, and sat back. 
"Maria said that I won't get it? You've known these people for a month. You've known me for years!" I couldn't stop the tears. "But, it's not about them. If you want to break up with me, have the fucking balls to do it. Don't come at me with, 'I don't know who I am/ we have always been together.' Straight up, tell me you don't want me anymore." I walked back towards our room so I could pack a duffle bag and get out of this apartment.
"That's not it. I just want a break. We are in university, in a new environment. This is the perfect time for it. Y/N!" He shouted as I stuffed my clothes in a bag. "Where are you going? You don't know anyone. We are literally just discussing," He was technically right. All my friends were his friends. It had always been like that. Yoongi socialised, and I tagged along. It had been a month since we started uni, and even though our courses were different, we lived together, and I spent time hanging out with his friends more than I cared to make mine. 
"We aren't, though. You are breaking up with me," I collected my stuff from our shared dresser and quickly dumped my laptop and books in my backpack. I would have to come back and collect my stuff, but this should hold me for a few days. 
"It's a break!" He yelled. "You're still my best friend! You'll always be my best friend," He yelled as I tried to walk past him. "You'll always have that place in my life. Where the hell are you going!?"
"But that's it, right? You want this place gone." I could see the confusion on his face. He hadn't thought this through. "What does 'explore and see life without each other in our lives' even mean? Do you want us to pretend we don't know each other? So, you can have your experiment with how your life would be if we," I gestured between us, "never existed? Tough luck. We did. And, you don't erase the past. You move on." 
"I feel like I am talking to a wall, Y/N," he said, exasperated. 
"What am I supposed to understand? That my boyfriend came home today after meeting his friends to tell me that he wants to take a break because he has been with me for far too long. What even is this reason? Thanks for being the cliche of the century. You want to see different things? Who is stopping you? But you want to explore what is out there and still hold on to me, in case you realise that being alone, maybe, isn't for you. I'm not an option, Yoongi." I dropped my bags to the ground so I could call myself a cab.
"It's not about options at all. I just…you are twisting my words. I don't want to make you feel like you're an option but haven't you ever felt the need to want something more?" He questioned. "That maybe there is something worth more out there?" His eyes were wide. He had misspoken again. 
It was like a knife running through my chest. I couldn't believe this was my best friend. That this man in front of me was the love of my life, and he hadn't just degraded me. "All the best. I hope you find what you are looking for. My cab is here." I ran out, and he ran out after me, but he didn't call. He didn't call me at all. 
"He said WHAT?" Zoya and I were four shots down, and I could feel it all hit me at once. 
"He wants to find out if there is something worth more than us being together. He could have just said he wanted to be single and live the uni life. Like all fuckboys out here. What the fuck even is a break?" I was so drunk. 
"Man, I'm sorry. But this is good for you. I can feel it. I'm getting the vibes," Zoya tickled the air. 
"You can feel the vibe?" I looked at her. 
"Yaaa, I caaaannnn!" She slurred. "It'll be difficult. Very, but no time like now." 
"I gotta figure out my housing situation," I threw my head down to the bar table. My bags were behind the bar, or Zoya had thrown them behind the bar cause the bartender was her friend. She was my friend here, and actually, she was my only new friend here. 
"It's sorted. That's why I brought you here! Tae! Tae!" She yelled, flailing her arms, catching the bartender's eye. 
"Okay, Zoya, stay seated, or I will throw you out," The bartender pulled her hands together and made her sit down. 
"Tae, you have an extra room, right?" She asked sweetly. 
"Uh, I do," He said with caution, his eyes flickering between us two. 
"Great! You're looking for a roommate. I have your roommate!" She declared happily.
"You want me to live with a boy?" I looked at her.
"I'm looking for a roommate?" He questioned as well. 
"Yes, you can't live alone. You need company. And Y/N, Tae's place is very, and I mean, very nice. He is the best option at this point in the semester. He technically owns this bar and works here for free because he likes mixology." Zoya kept each hand on one of our shoulders like she was planning a plot. 
"My father owns this bar," Tae clarified. 
"Potehto Potahto," Zoya mumbled, taking a long sip of her long island iced tea. "So, Y/N will take that spare bedroom, and I will come party at your place 'cause it'll finally be interesting!" 
"Zoya bu–" She kept her finger on my lips. 
"But, today we will go to mine 'cause I got some pork ribs that we have to try!" She jumped off and walked towards the exit without looking back. 
Tae helped me with my bags and told another person to take over for him, "Taehyung," He offered his hand for me to shake. "Zoya and I are school friends. I'm studying management here too." 
"Y/N," I smiled. "I've not seen you before, though!"
"It's a big class of, like-what, 70 people? I don't think we share any of our secondary courses, either. Do you share them with Zoya?" He asked, walking me outside. 
"Yes, Contemporary Issues in Competitive Strategy," I told him. 
"I think I'm taking that next sem. Zoya, my car's in the parking lot. Let's go," He called for her, and she happily ran towards us. 
"This is a big apartment. Are you sure you don't mind me here? Zoya just kinda dumped it -" It was pretty well done as well. Only the room, which would be mine, just had a bed. 
"No, I think it'll be fun. My father's assistant has kinda overdone it. But, you can name a household appliance, and I think you'll find it here," He laughed. 
"Oh nice, what's your rent?" I asked so I could decide if I could afford the division. The apartment Yoongi and I shared was a gift from his parents, so thankfully, we had just furnished it. I knew I'd need to rediscuss my finances, but I think I would be very comfortable if I got a part-time job. 
"I own this place. My father believes in buying, not renting," He explained. "But, I'm sure we can agree on something," He smiled. 
Moving in with Tae was easy. Zoya helped me pack my stuff the next day when I knew Yoongi would be out, and since he still had not called or dropped a text, I went in and got the rest of my personal stuff when he was in classes. Tae and I went shopping for furniture for my room and other utilities in the evening, and before I knew it, I had already moved into another house in all of one day. Two days before this, I was in bed with Yoongi as he told me some hilarious joke which was considered Architecture 101, and now I was in a completely different building, alone. 
"You haven't moved," Tae stood in front of my room. He had helped me unpack and set everything up with Zoya. "I left you right here, like 30 mins ago," He laughed. I'm sure Zoya had him filled on my history and heartbreak. 
"Yoongi must have just gotten back to the apartment. Do you think he'll call when he sees my stuff gone?" I asked Tae with tears in my eyes. 
Tae pouted and came and sat next to me, "if he calls, will you pick up?" He asked. I shook my head. "If he calls, will you feel better?" I shrugged because I didn't know what to feel. It was all happening so fast. 
"I am apologizing in advance for not being an amazing roommate for the next few…my heart is breaking right now," I couldn't stop my tears. 
"Sleep. I promised you a welcome breakfast, so you need to be up for it," Tae tried, nudging my shoulder. 
I kept out of Yoongi's way. It was great that our majors were different, and our classes were on the opposite side of the campus. In a week, I found a routine that didn't collide with his at all. If I saw him at the coffee house, I hid. If I saw him on the way to the library, I went the opposite direction. 
'I hope you're okay.' 
The last text from him was three days old. Did he know where I was? Who was I with? Was I okay? 
I kept my word, and I disappeared from his life. It was killing me. How do you get rid of a habit? I woke up in sweats. I couldn't breathe, my chest contracting within itself at the thought of him. The only time I ate was when Tae and Zoya were around, and our routine was extremely hectic.
A month into it, the pain sort of became a habit. My course and my internship did not leave me any time to think. When I did catch a moment, it was spent laughing with Taehyung, who was an incredible roommate. We made friends in our course, so we had a group ready for adventure as the weekend hit, and I was kind of glad that I had no time to process anything because the day always started with me standing in front of the mirror, prepping myself to be happy and confident. It didn't matter that the love of my life didn't think I was enough. I was enough for me. I grew up in a loveless household; I knew what it felt like. But, by the evening, I was just numb. 
There had been no contact with Yoongi. And Ava, a new friend of mine, taught me tricks to cope and distract myself. "If you're not ready to process it, you don't have too," She had been in therapy for the longest time, and always had words of wisdom. 
Yoongi was all over the place. There were photos all over the insta. 
'Finally single' was a caption on his friend Zack's post, and I had lost a whole day on it. I realised that during the initial month of uni, I had not made any friends. All I had were his friends, and what it felt like was that they just tolerated me. Even the ones I had truly connected with did not text me after, and it had me really looking back on all my friendships through the years. I always connected through Yoongi. I always only really needed him, He was truly my confidant, my best friend, and I didn't have the need for more. 
I was made strong, though. It has been two months, so it clearly wasn't a short break. I finally told my parents and made them promise they wouldn't say anything to Yoongi's parents if it didn't come from them and that they won't contact him. 
'All I need is myself' was his insta post with a picture of a glass of whisky held against the view of the sunset.
"Have you spoken to her since?" Tara asked Yoongi as he fiddled with his drink. 
"No," He took another gulp. No indication was needed on who was being mentioned.
"How are you holding up?" She asked. She liked Y/N. She liked them together. She didn't really agree with the narrative Jae and Sara had built up. But Jae didn't understand relationships, and Sara had the hots for Yoongi. 
"It's only a break. I just need to know who I am," He said, more to himself. The last two months had been so strange. He was so angry at first. His girlfriend refused to understand his point of view, decided they were broken up like she decided on most things on her own, and had moved out all in one day. She came when he wasn't in the house and packed her stuff, leaving the key on the kitchen table with no note. He was furious. 
Then, he found out she had moved in with another guy who she had never mentioned before. Did he even know her? Taking a break was making more sense. She didn't respond to his message, hid from him or changed directions if he was around. She was his best friend. He knew he had asked for this, but not like this. He honestly thought if they spent a little time apart, it would bring them closer and give him clarity as well. 
His parents were talking about marriage, and they had just started uni. From living with his parents, he started living with Y/N, and he was excited until he had this whole conversation about how life can be different. And, he wanted the chance to at least to understand what it could be to be able to decide if he even wanted it. Wasn't being young all about this? He missed his best friend. He missed Y/N every night he walked into their apartment, and he started spending the least amount of time in it, sleeping on the couch instead of their bed or Jae's spare bedroom to save himself from thinking too much. 
"You can also find out who you are with her, you know. Jae isn't exactly right, and he was always jealous of what you had with -" She was cut off as Jae jumped on Yoongi. 
"My man!" He yelled in his year. "We gotta get you laid this evening! Fuck I gotta get laid!" 
"Fuck, why have they given us a week off? I have five papers to write!" Tae screamed as he entered the apartment. 
"I got three papers and two presentations," I counted. "You have to be my dummy for prep. Presentations freak me out." I told him. Taehyung had a habit of shedding his clothes as soon as he entered the apartment. At this point, it was weird if he was in more than one layer inside the flat. I was sure I would not have been standing if I didn't have him around. 
"I think we should go clubbing today. Go clubbing today, work tomorrow if we are not hungover, then hike the day after, and then we can relax and get to our assignments." He wrote down our plan of action on the big whiteboard wall that he and Miles, our newly formed friend from the bar, had drunk installed one night. 
"Yuck. I hate clubs," I groaned. 
"Wear your sexiest dress. I should be drooling," He instructed. 
"Yuck." 
Miles was studying architecture like Yoongi. He actually knew me, having crossed paths during one of the many meetups I had accompanied Yoongi too. "I can give you goss on the enemy side," he had offered as he sat next to me on the bar stool. Tae was experimenting with a new mix, and I was his taste tester, and also a bit tipsy from all the alcohol I was testing. 
"What's the goss?" I asked. 
"Are you ready? Emotionally?" Miles asked, giving me a warning. 
"Sure," I laughed.
"That group is way, way more boring now that you are not there!" 
I giggled, "you're very sweet, Miles. The last I remember of you was that you didn't speak a word after I told my cliff-jumping story!" 
"The cliff-jumping story was hilarious! I fell a little bit in love with you," He said, making me choke on my drink. "I'm joking!" He laughed. "You'll have to tell me a couple more to have me!" 
He was the perfect fit for our little group and assured me that I could stand without Yoongi. 
"I can't believe you're taking me clubbing tonight," Miles groaned as he met us downstairs." Ava cancelled. I think we should run away, too," He held my hand, flirting. 
"You guys are the worst!" Tae whined. "We are young, and hot, and dancing is the way to get laid. Please let's just go!" 
"I'm surprised you want to get laid when Zoya is going to be there," I took his arm, and wrapped mine around it.
"Till the time she sees that I am her true love, I need to get by," He pouted. Tae was quite infatuated with Zoya, and Zoya had no clue. She thought he was fond, and they had been buddies through school. He didn't want to change their dynamic and was hoping she'll suddenly realise he had been there all along. 
"There is nothing like true love," I said. 
"Hush," He pulled me closer. "Let me dream." 
We were greeted inside the club by Zoya, who, in no time, had already poured three shots down our throats. I hadn't eaten much, so the alcohol hit me faster and stronger. "You look so fucking sexy," Zoya whispered as she twirled me around. I had lost weight in the last two months, so I felt less beautiful cause I wasn't as healthy and fit as I kept myself, but I couldn't help smiling big as she complimented me. 
We were closer to the dancing area, so I looked around for a place we could take up and keep our bags when I saw him. My smile disappeared, and my body went cold. It felt like a deep wound had ripped open again, and I was bleeding. 
"What happened-" Zoya's eyes followed mine to see Yoongi on the first floor, his arms around the waist of a girl stuck to his body as they laughed. 
PART 2
A friend of mine went through something similar, and it got me thinking of how people look at relationships. 
©mymuseagustd@2023
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winterleonessa · 1 year
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sleepy~ 🐱🖤
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The most adorable commission 🥺🐱🖤
Twitter insta commission shop ko-fi
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Protector
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Pairing: Suga x you
Genere: Smut, Established relationship
Summary: Yoongi doesn't want to take your relationship public, he's comfortable hiding and knows he wouldn't be able to protect you from the media. Idk why I'm addicted to a sad story. It's my first BTS fic Army be nice.
“Yoon-gi! I am tired of your shit !” your voice is low and steady.
“And I am not tired of you ?” he stared at you coldly.
“Cool," you take a step back from him, almost disgusted by how detached he was being “I’ll get my shit then.” you brush past him into your room,dragging your suitcase out of the back of the closet. A place that had been it’s home for the last three years. You wield it over your small shoulder and onto the end of the bed,as you watched him close the door to your room. He takes his time , until the door clicks, turning back around to you. 
“I’m not trying to offend you, I just don’t understand why it’s so important to you I-”
“Because if this is real” you cut him off “If this is something, we have to try it in the daylight,we have to try the real world. And if we don’t make it ,we don’t make it but we try-” 
“You are so frustrating -” he rolls his eyes. 
“And you are so comfortable being alone.” you can tell that comment cut him. And as much as you hated yourself for it you were glad you could hurt him as much as he had hurt you. 
“Ack-” he waves his hand at you.
“No, listen to me .” you rush towards him and he moves around you. Swiftly switching positions and pinning your back against the bedroom door. 
You are caught in his eyes, in his love for you, his want to keep you safe and the reality of the fact that he is right. Going public meant sharing you with more than just his friends and family.
“Going public means when we have fights like this, they take pictures.” he bit his bottom lip in uncertainty “When we hurt, the world sees that .When we’re happy they see that too, but is that worth how you will be hunted by sasaeng.When I have a kid, he won’t be able to play at the park, to be normal. He deserves that .”
“So you want to keep your family, your life ,everything entirely secret?” you whisper 
“I want you-” He whispers back leaning into you “ I just don’t want anything but us to ruin us.”
You can’t help but lean in and kiss him after that. His hand comes to cup the side of your face. His hips rock into you and before you realize your hands are tugging at the hem of his shirt while he works under your skirt, up your thighs to pull down your panties. This was the fire  you had; just unending passion, connection,like fissures linking and touching every corner of your body, inspiring it to seek more of him. You step out of your underwear and he slides the warmth of his palms up your calves, the back of your legs becoming alight with his touch. 
“Yoon-”you protest as he rolls up your body.
“Shhh.” he whispers through a lazy smile, kissing you again. Your hands are at his belt buckle, pulling at the loops.
“Fuck that.” he mumbles,forcing his pants downwards, shimmying out of the denim.He wraps his arms under your hips ,lifting you and holding you up against the door. His voice was low and he let out a growl as he rolled his crotch into yours again. That elicited a short high pitched moan   from you which he must have liked because he pulled back and smiled at you before placing a hand at your throat and doing it again. He takes his other hand to your core and begins rubbing you slow and controlled. “Is this what you want?” he asks , and it’s hard for you to have clarity on if he’s looking for a response to your conversation earlier or an answer for if you do or don’t want sex. Because you always wanted sex,especially with him; which he knew. Making that just seem like an unnecessary additive. “Mmmm I can’t wait to be inside you” he purrs, lifting your hips and angling himself at your opening. It didn’t matter that you had just argued, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t change. Your body ached for him. 
“Please…please” you found yourself whispering. Begging for what you were unsure but, he understood you, he knew what you needed. He fucked into you at a painstakingly slow rate, relishing in your array of faces pre orgasm. He is a man of many talents and he wasn’t usually rough with you. But this slow, subtle domination was a talent even you didn’t know he had. He held eye contact with you as he pulled himself in and out of your warm hole, time passed slower. The sound of your moans and his breath were music to your ears, peppered by his occasional praises of how good you are at a low whisper in your ear. You feel yourself nearing your climax and you dig your fingernails into his shoulder while crying out. He kisses the vanes in your throat as you throw your head back, using the kisses to break up the phrases of praise towards you. He tells you how good you are for cumming for him and you can tell he’s getting excited by his own words as he rocks faster inside you. His last few pushes are rough and you hold onto him so you don’t slide down the wall yourself. You feel him shoot into you and you can’t help but smile, taking stock of his face a bit flushed, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, eyes heavily lidded in pure bliss. You hold each other there for a minute,enjoying the contact,breathing heavily in unison. Your lips part and you’re overcome with comfort in that contorted position, against the door for a while. Eventually you are able to peel your bodies apart from each other and you look up at him suddenly aware of your nakedness. “ I may not be as figured out as you Yoongi but, I don’t want to be with someone who won’t claim me.” You look up at him sadly. The rose colored glasses were gone. His hand brushes down your arm and moves to hold your hand. This time instead of holding his, you take a step back from him. You snatch your clothes from the corner of the floor they had occupied and get dressed. He’s quiet as you move towards the bed,you slowly zip your suitcase and roll to the door. You extend a hand to press the elevator button of his penthouse“Don’t choose this.” he says quietly. He has sweatpants on, and somehow an incredibly solemn face while shirtless sitting on the arm of his couch. “You think I want this?” you pull your jacket over your shoulders. The door dings open and he crosses his arms across his chest. “For the record, I always would have picked you.” you smile, trying to rush into the elevator before you feel your tears hit your cheek. He stares at you but doesn’t respond. It’s clear there’s nothing more to say. His gaze runs over your entire body, as though he’s trying to burn a memory of you into his brain. 
“Bye Min Yoongi” you say, jabbing your finger into the door close button but it can’t close fast enough.
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sugarushsuga · 2 years
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"I don’t mind" - #55
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Genre/Au's: Fluff; Idol verse
Paring: Suga x Reader (F)
Words count: 1.028
Rating: PG
Warnings: soft mentions of sex
Author note: This can be a stand alone or part two for Coming home
Masterlist
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The brightness in the room seem to bother you while you are asleep, your mind keeps on trying to nudge you awake while your body resists it. You are tired and you deserve to sleep more. It’s the weekend, you are finally home with no obligations for the next couple of days. So why is your mind trying to form thoughts on the sleep in time?
Maybe is because of said brightness, surely you could use a darker room for a little longer. Or maybe is the soft keyboard tapping that seems to be out of place. Is the weekend so why keyboard tapping and e-mails?
Rubbing your hand over your face, you fight sleepiness and the messy tangled hair away. You take a deep breath, and the orange flower smell makes you smile. The sheets are pulled to your neck, but both of your legs are uncovered, and you are curled up like a child in such a big bed.
The keyboard tapping pauses.
“Are you awake?”
You nod.
You are not sure if he can see you of if he just heard the sheets rustling but his attention is on you. Rubbing your sleepy and puffy eyes you roll to your back and look toward the direction of his voice.
“- working?” Your voice is husky.
“Watching you sleep,” he replies simply and rolls his chair closer to the edge of the table so you can see him better and he probably can see you better too.
“Then why aren’t you here with me?” You yawn.
“I was getting a bit restless and would’ve ended up waking you, I didn’t want to.”
“Why was you restless?” You ask sleepy and concerned.
“Have you seen how you’re dressed?” He chuckles. “You were away for three weeks and… I’m a man after all…”
You look down at yourself. His black T-shirt is almost a long dress on you. It’s oversized on him and the almost 10 centimeters of height differences makes the garment almost shallow you whole. Just your bare legs are the only body parts out from under the sheets besides your head. You frown at him.
Stretching you kick the sheets off.
“Y/n.” He groans
You laugh. Yeah, you only have his shirt on. The one he was wearing yesterday when you got home.
Nothing else.
And you were probably pressing your ass on him while you slept or putting your leg around his waist and showing him the way to your uterus. That’s what made him restless. Yoongi being Yoongi, would never wake you up for sex when you were so tired like you were last night.
He gave you a welcome home reception, but that was enough to knock you out, and there you were unconsciously teasing him on your sleep.
“Sorry!” You pull the shirt down your tights.
“Did you sleep well?”
You nod once again rolling to the edge of the bed. “You are so far away.”
“I have a couple of things I need to take care of.” He answers looking to the computer over the table.
“You sound like a middle aged man.” You poke.
“Well, I’m getting there.” He points out. “Differently from you, I’m not in my young and hot twenties anymore.”
“So, I’m young and hot?” You ask getting up and stepping on the cold floor.
“Hm, young and very, very hot.” He pushes his chair away from the desk turning it towards you.
Straddling his lap, you loosely put your arms around his shoulders pressing a kiss to his lips. He responds immediately, kissing you back, hands naturally finding their way around your waist and resting on your, now, barely cover ass.
You caress his long strands back, caressing his scalp as you watch him up close. The time off is making him well. Clearly less tired, and less stressed. These are the good changes. The couple white hairs on his head are the bad changes, as Seokjin and Jungkook put it when the first strand appeared.
“They are multiplying.” You say as you see at least five white strands over his natural back silk black hair in between your fingers.
“My age is starting to show.” He kisses your jaw.
“I don’t mind. Is actually kind of hot.” You kiss his forehead.
“Is it?” Yoongi rests his head back on the chair looking at you.
“Hm, who else can say their hot boyfriend is turning gray at thirty?” You kiss his cheek. “While I’m still so young at almost twenty nine?”
Groaning Yoongi rolls his eyes at you. “The hair stylist will pull it off, or it’ll get died black or maybe I’ll bleach my hair again.” He explains.
“You know that, none of it will change the truth right?” You ask placing a kiss under his ear.
“What is this truth?” He asks eyes closed sighing contently.
“That you are getting old and won’t live as long as you though you would? And I’ll be young and single and ready to mingle?” You joke.
“Hey!”
Yoongi grabs at your ass when you throw your head back laughing at his outraged face. The smile on his face is a clear indicator that he also found your joke funny but won’t say it or let himself laugh and lose such a battle.
Pulling your body flush to his, he digs his fingers at your ass rolling his hips up to yours. “You are so, going to pay for this.” Hosting you with him, he gets up from his chair and walks towards the bed with you. “I need to teach you a lesson, do you think just because you are hot and young you can be such a brat?”
“Do you teach these kind of lessons to Jimin and Jungkook too?” You ask biting your lower lip using your most innocent voice.
“Those two have no fixing.” He drops you onto the bed making your body bounce on it. Putting a knee on one of your sides and the other in between your legs he crawls up over you. “Besides, this lesson is a private one just for you.” Said that he dives for a kiss.
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100 WTSILY - Masterlist
Feedback is always apreciated
Ⓒ 2022 Sugarushsuga, do not copy, translate or repost.
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cup1ds4ns · 3 months
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hi my name is orla!! i’m new to ff tumblr :)
17 | psych and literature student 💪🏾
fics based on bts!! x reader / ocs
i’ll probably do oneshots and requests
Black | GMT | Capricorn | She/They | ENFP
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babystrcandy · 1 year
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matilda (pt. 2) | myg
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summary: Loneliness had always been a constant for you, haunting you like a ghost; until your older brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi, came into your life. You both promised each other something back then - you’d always have his support and he’d always have yours. But with time and age, you weren’t sure how much that all still stood to be true.
pairing: yoongi x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, slice of life, angst, fluff, eventual smut word count: 15.5K warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, unrequited love (?), a whole lot of even more pining, min yoongi and his hair colors *wink*, heartbreak, alcohol usage, unsupportive/neglectful parents, reader is yoongi’s #1 supporter, she loves him so much it hurts, angst angst ANGST (oh my god the angst), seokjin and hari highkey being the best characters, ripping off love rosie because that movie is a core memory, oh and twenty five twenty one because it haunts me, fights (i’m sorry), i think that’s it but if i missed anything pls let me know, hope you enjoy <3
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chapter two: you can let it go ( ← previous | next → )
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WHEN YOU WERE UNFORTUNATELY seventeen years of age you finally realized boys were the bugs you had originally made them out to be . . . all thanks to Min Yoongi. Your feelings for him had made you sick, your stomach churning every time you saw the pictures your brother would upload of him and his friends losing their minds at college party after college party. And in every picture, you’d see a new girl glued to Yoongi’s side.
For a while, you could handle the way your heart ached when you'd catch a glimpse of those pictures all over your brother and his friends’ social media. But that was because it felt distant, manageable. You could handle that.
What you couldn’t handle was the call you received from Hari one February morning.
“I didn’t know how to tell you . . . but . . . Yoongi has a girlfriend,” Hari’s voice came through the phone in a quiet murmur almost being muffled by the static of the connection.
You felt your heart flatline.
Yoongi has a girlfriend. The words echoed in your ears even long after you had bid your friend a farewell and laid down in your bed for the night. Those four words seemed to haunt you.
Granted, you knew you should’ve been over this stupid thing you had for Yoongi a long time ago. You had hooked up with a couple other boys at stupid parties since he’d gone to college, trying to distract yourself from the very obvious void he had left you to deal with when he moved away. And it had almost worked despite how awful it made you feel afterward (which you tried to ignore). You thought it was working. But then Hari called, telling you the news she had heard from Hoseok, and you suddenly felt ten years old again, seeing Yoongi walk through your front door for the first time.
You knew it was bound to happen. Yoongi always had this charm about him. He’d always done well to find someone to take to school dances or random movie dates, but he’d never gone so far as to have a girlfriend. He’d told you he much preferred to be left alone. (In fact, if you recalled correctly . . . he once told you that you were the reason he'd been able to open himself up more to people.)
He just isn’t a girlfriend type of guy, your brother had offhandedly remarked to you one night when you guys were younger.
But you hadn’t seen him all year. You knew Seokjin and Yoongi had decided to room together, planning to get a place together with Hoseok once the boy graduated that year. So when Yoongi didn’t join your family for your annual Christmas dinner that year, opting to stay on campus, you just guessed that Yoongi was busy with school. But now, you supposed he had stayed to be with his girlfriend . . .
Yoongi has a girlfriend.
The words echoed in your head again.
You couldn't help the sobs which wracked your body in the minutes to come. You just let it consume you. For the first time in your life, you let yourself feel the heartbreak you’d been feeling since the day you met him. He’d been slowly breaking your heart for seven years now, and worst of all, you only had yourself to blame. You couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t his fault, it was yours. You hadn’t given up on him when you should have. Even when he showed you again and again that what he felt for you was purely platonic, you still had hope.
Your hope was gone now, fizzling out into smoke like the fire which used to ignite your heart.
And as the months passed, the fire had died out completely.
You were nothing more than ash now.
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The next time you saw Yoongi, you were a senior in high school. He had been home from college. He’d come with Seokjin briefly, but you only saw him when he was leaving. But you had seen him, stepping into his car, his eyes locking with yours.
He looked different now—older, even. His eyes seemed wiser, and his hair had been dyed burgundy. Maybe he was different. It made your heart swell, but you didn’t move from your spot in the doorway. He hadn't moved either.
Neither of you advanced to greet each other.
You both had seen the other.
It was fleeting, but it was enough.
You had smiled.
Yoongi had smiled back.
And then he was gone. You stood stagnant right where he left you.
You didn’t see him for the rest of the year.
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The first face you saw as you walked out of your school, dressed in your graduating cap and gown was none other than Min Yoongi. You hadn’t been looking for him. You didn’t even think he’d come. But there he was—his hair a little longer now, styled, and blonde. He wore his usual attire of an oversized shirt, jacket, and baggy pants, not bothering to dress up for the ceremony. He looked exactly as you remembered him, except, you know, the hair. (You ignored how much older and mature he looked now.)
Except, this time when you saw him, you weren’t sure if it was dread or happiness which filled you. Seokjin told you over the phone that Yoongi had broken up with his girlfriend back in March. He was probably nursing a broken heart or maybe he didn't care at all. The thing was: you had no idea. You hadn’t seen him since that awkward sighting at your house months back. Prior to that, you hadn't seen him since he left for college close to two years ago now. He was different now. Maybe this wasn’t your Yoongi.
But he wore the same gummy smile your Yoongi always used to share with you. You could’ve sworn you were fourteen again, stuck with him on that train as he grinned at you like that.
“Hey, kid,” he spoke warmly, slowly making his way toward you. Still sounded like the Yoongi you remembered.
And then he wrapped his arms around you even though he had told you multiple times that he hated them, and you felt like you were going to melt in his arms.
“I missed you,” the boy murmured into your hair, bringing you closer to him.
You blinked . . . then breathed in. Sweet—like jasmine and wood. He still smelled the same.
You wrapped your arms around him then, finally allowing yourself to hold him once again. It didn’t matter if you wouldn’t see him for three years after this, you just wanted to remember him like this. You wanted to bottle this moment in your mind before time etched away at your soul.
Then finally . . . you whispered as if afraid of your own voice, “I missed you, too.” You let yourself be selfish in that moment, pulling him closer as you buried your face into his chest and breathed him in.
“How’s it feel to be an adult?” he questioned after a minute.
You choked out a laugh. “Horrible.”
Yoongi ruffled your hair, laughing into you, his shoulders moving as he laughed. He pulled back a second later, the smile still on his face. “I got you something,” he said, his voice giving off that same calmness it always did.
You blinked up at him, eyes full of wonderment.
But you weren’t kept waiting long as the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace with a hanging charm of a . . . paper airplane.
You quirked a brow.
Your reaction only caused the boy to snort, scrunching his nose. “I know. I know,” he began, laughing slightly. “I tried to find a paper ring charm like the one you made for me, but the only origami charms I could find were of this or a paper crane.”
“And you chose the paper . . . airplane?”
Yoongi only ruffled your hair again, to which you shoved him, huffing in agitation as you fixed your previously picture-perfect styled hair.
“Listen, kid, I’m in college and broke. Accept the present,” Yoongi told you, his voice humorous. He shrugged, his eyes on the paper plane charm. “Besides, I hear paper airplanes are kind of like a symbol for throwing yourself into the future.”
You deadpanned. “That’s stupid,” you huffed as you grabbed at the necklace and hastily clasped it around your neck.
Yoongi only smiled, although it was one of those half-grins that you had never seen him give to you before. And you hated to admit it, but it was attractive.
A second later, Yoongi was speaking again. “Airplane Part Two is one of my next upcoming pieces I’ve composed for my album,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.
Your eyes bulged. “You’re making an album?”
“Well . . . it’s more like a few original pieces I’ve come up with put on a burned CD that I’m thinking about sending out to whoever will give it a chance, but . . . “ he trailed off, his words growing awkward on his tongue.
You helped him finish his thought as you slapped his arm. “You’re making an album!” you exclaimed, slightly jumping up and down.
Yoongi blew a raspberry. “Trying, but shit it’s hard.”
“Tough,” you hummed, holding onto him tightly. “You’re gonna be famous. Mark my words, Min Yoongi, the greatest pianist to ever live.”
That half-grin was back on his face. It almost looked as if he were about to lean closer toward you to speak of his gratitude, but he never got the chance. One second it was just you and Yoongi, then the next Seokjin and Hoseok were jumping the two of you. There were no words exchanged, just bickering and gleeful shouts as Seokjin clung onto Yoongi, who fought the boy, trying to get him off him while Hoseok kept nudging into you, singing the song which played as they watched you walk across the stage to finally receive your high school diploma.
“Aren’t we all too old for this shit?!” you yelled over their shouts.
Yoongi grimaced against Seokjin’s chants in his ear. “Agreed!” the Min boy shouted as he tried plugging his ears.
But the other two boys only continued. You almost stormed away to go find your parents for pictures or to go see if Hari was still there with Taehyung and Jimin, but before you could, the boys grabbed you and hoisted you up on their shoulders. You glanced down finding Seokjin and Hoseok on either side of you as the two of them continued their chants and began walking, carrying you as if you were some kind of royal. And at the realization of how your little group probably looked at that very moment, you burst out laughing.
You let them carry you through the parking lot, through the hoards of your classmates and their families, and toward Seokjin’s car. You let yourself laugh the whole time, realizing this was the hardest you had laughed all year. And then your eyes drifted toward Yoongi, who walked ahead of the three of you, his back turned to you as he glanced over his shoulder every so often with a grin on his face.
The next time he glanced back, his eyes met yours, nose scrunching as his grin grew. You bit back your smile, but didn’t miss the way your hand seemed to subconsciously drift to the necklace clasped around your neck.
Maybe you could be friends with Yoongi without hoping for more. This was enough. More wasn’t needed in your group's little world.
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The graduation party was anything but boring.
It was a small thing. Your brother had organized it, claiming he was the party planner of the family, which you didn't complain about. Your parents just let him roll with it, too tired to put up a fight. So he'd invited your friends and their parents, throwing a small and—for once—modest celebration in your honor. And then the night began.
About halfway through, full of food and about to pass out for the night, you made your way to the backyard. It was no secret you could go on and on for hours, talking to Yoongi's parents about how he used to be as a kid or sneaking sips of champagne with Hari, Taehyung, and Jimin. But the night had been long and you just wanted a moment of silence—silence that you had been used to when you were a kid.
But as you made your way outside, your eyes landed on someone sitting at the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water. As you stepped closer, you realized this person was actually Yoongi. You couldn't help but smile.
"Hey," you murmured as you sat beside him and stuck your feet in the cool water.
His eyes lifted up to reach yours, crinkling as he scrunched his nose and gave you a smile. "Hey, kid."
You scooted closer and latched onto him, linking your arms and resting your head on his shoulder. You'd missed this. You'd missed him. "What are you doing out here?" you felt yourself ask.
He hesitantly reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers together. He released a sigh. "Needed air."
You nodded against his shoulder. "Stress?"
"Something like that."
"Just don't take up smoking."
What? Why would you say that? You scolded yourself. It seemed distance had made you grow more nervous around him.
"It's just—I hear it's a bad habit," you tried to salvage your words. "Like stress reliever, sure, but—“
But Yoongi only laughed under his breath, cutting you off for your own good. "Don't worry, kid. I wouldn't dream of it."
"OK . . . good."
God, was this awkward. No, you were sure you were the one making it awkward. Yoongi wasn't.
"My parents think I'm wasting my twenties," he confessed, suddenly.
"Oh."
"That's why . . . " he trailed off, looking down. "We got into a fight at the party. That's why I'm out here. I just—I couldn't look at them anymore. They look at me like I'm . . . like I'm a failure."
You squeezed your eyes shut, lifting your head from his shoulder. You had always known Yoongi's parents never supported his passion. You both had talked about it for hours when you were younger. He'd always just had your support, and that used to be enough. You weren't sure if it was enough anymore, though.
"You're not a failure, Yoon," were the words that came out of your mouth as you squeezed his hand in comfort. "It doesn't matter what they say or what they think . . . you're not a failure."
He only sighed. "I just want to make them proud."
A beat of silence.
Then, you spoke. "I'm proud of you."
His eyes met yours, searching.
You offered a small smile. "You've made me proud."
The corner of his lip twitched, but he didn't smile.
You took your chances then, lifting a hand to his face, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "It takes guts to do what you're doing. It's admirable, Yoon. Really, it is. What you're doing—" you paused, your hand stilling against his face— "it's important. What you're doing is important. You owe it to yourself to continue."
Yoongi did smile then. "When did you get so smart?"
"I always have been."
"Cocky."
"Sometimes being cocky is good."
He pinched your nose. "Always stay the same, kid."
A comforting silence fell upon the two of you as you dropped your hand and leaned your head back on his shoulder, letting the ripples of the pool water fill your hearing. Your eyes fluttered closed then, allowing yourself to solidify this moment in your brain. You didn't realize just how much you'd missed him. And then you realized having him in your life as a friend was more important than anything else. You had to let go of the idea of you and him together. His friendship was more important than some romance you were sure you could find again.
You never had to let him go.
You just had to let it go; let your feelings for him go.
It would be better this way.
But despite this, you couldn't help the itching question on your mind. What could you say? You were nosey. So it was no surprise to you when you said, "Um . . . so I heard about your breakup. You alright? You can, like, talk or vent or whatever about it . . . you know."
Yoongi chuckled. "There's not much to say," he hummed, his voice calm. "Just didn't work out. No bad blood. No nothing. Just . . . just two different people who wanted different things."
"What did you want?"
You could have sworn you felt him stiffen beside you.
"Sorry—" you rushed out, feeling awkward. "I didn't mean to—"
"I wanted more. I want . . . more," he confessed, cutting you off.
You lifted your head from his shoulder. "More?"
He glanced your way, eyes on you. "Something epic, I guess."
You snorted. "Min Yoongi, are you a hopeless romantic?"
As a half-grin lifted onto his face, his eyes trailed over your features. "Something like that," he murmured.
"Well—" you wet your lips, amused— "good luck."
"What? Do you not believe in that anymore?" he asked, nudging you with his arm.
You blew a raspberry. "I don't know. Maybe in college I'll find it, but . . . I don't know."
"You haven't already?" he questioned, his face falling like he was shocked or maybe . . . disappointed ( . . . ? ). "Found it, I mean."
"In high school?" you snorted, feeling a weight on your chest. Of course, you'd found it. You'd found it in him, but that wasn't real. Maybe if he felt the same then it'd be real, but . . . he didn't. What you felt for him was surely considered puppy love. Right? One-sided puppy love? That wasn't real. That was nothing.
You realized you had been staring at him for far too long then. You cleared your throat, averting your gaze to the water surrounding you. "I don't think I've found it," you murmured. "It kind of feels . . . intangible."
"Right."
"Have you?"
"What?"
"Come on, you've had like how many girls, some guys even, attached to your hip since you left, you're telling me you didn't feel anything for any of them?" you asked, teasing him.
He smirked at that. "Have you been stalking me?"
You rolled your eyes. "Get a grip, Yoon. My brother calls me to tell me everything," you said. "He's really such a gossip queen, honestly."
He snorted, shaking his head. "Uh, I don't know . . . " he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Before I left, I didn't really know who I was. But . . . being alone . . . being away from home . . . I guess it's opened my eyes to what I really want . . . "
"Cryptic."
"What I had with the people I’ve been with, with my ex—" he huffed out a sigh— "it wasn't special." His eyes lifted to yours. "Call me whatever you want, but . . . I want something real. I didn't really realize I'd been settling . . . I guess . . . until I came back. Being home . . . it's brought back memories and shit that I didn't even really realize I'd felt until I came back."
Maybe he was harboring a crush for someone back home or maybe he finally realized he wanted to find the real thing. Either way . . . you'd support it. You knew you would.
"Wow, so you do have a heart," you hummed, a teasing smile on your face.
He laughed, lightly pushing your face away from him. "You're an asshole."
"What?" you snorted. "Not my fault my brother's been playing you up as this mega-player. I thought maybe constantly having your dick wet made your heart shrivel up with it."
He scoffed. "My dick is not shriveled."
You scrunched your face. "Are you sure?"
"No, you're right," he hummed. "It fell off, actually."
You grin, holding back your laughter. "Thought so."
He only shook his head, laughing slightly.
"Well—" you clapped a hand down on his back— "I hope you find the love of your life and live happily ever after. Hopefully, they'll be able to look past your shriveled dick." You laughed at that, amusing yourself.
But you weren't laughing long as you felt two hands suddenly shove you forward, causing you to fall into the water. You resurfaced only a second later, your ears being filled with Yoongi's laughter as you wiped your eyes and glared at him. You watched as the boy clutched his stomach, his shoulders shaking while he laughed.
"You are a bitch," you huffed, shivering in the water.
Yoongi only laughed harder.
Your glare intensified, and then an idea popped into your head. A sly grin slipped onto your face as you splashed water at him, drenching his clothes. He stopped laughing then, his eyes finding yours . . . and you knew you were fucked.
Your face dropped. "No!" you yelled, pointing a finger at him. "I know what you're thinking. Don't you dare." You had begun backing up in the pool, getting further away from him, but you knew it was too late.
Yoongi smirked before he jumped into the water, slowly making his way toward you as you backed up. You heard yourself shout one more time before his hands were on you, carrying you in his arms briefly before he let go, throwing you into the deep end as a scream ripped through you. The water burned your nose and eyes, but you didn't care, you resurfaced in the water, gasping. You groaned, wiping your eyes to see Yoongi laughing at you, which only irritated you more. That was when you attacked.
While he was laughing, you lunged for his back, clasping your arms around his neck as your legs hooked around his waist, trying your hardest to knock him over. But Yoongi only laughed harder, his hands coming around your arms to squeeze them.
"Stop laughing!" you shouted, still trying to knock him over in the water.
"I can't help it."
"You won't be laughing when I kill you."
But Yoongi did laugh at that. "Cute."
"Shut up," you huffed, not giving up. "I am not—"
But you didn't get to finish your sentence as Yoongi bent his knees, sinking the two of you into the water. You resurfaced a second later, coughing the water out of your lungs. You were still clinging onto Yoongi, your arms around his neck and legs locked around his waist, but it didn't feel unusual. It felt like you two were kids again.
"You're dead, Min," was all you managed to get out as you accepted defeat and rested your cheek against his back, trying to catch your breath.
"You're cute, kid," he said in response.
You flicked his ear in response, but couldn't hide the bashful expression which crossed your face. You knew his words were innocent. You did not look into it. You were friends.
And this time, you didn't get your hopes up.
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You did not see Yoongi for the remainder of that year.
You talked to Seokjin on the phone a lot, hearing bits and pieces about their lives. Yoongi had a new girlfriend now. Funny enough, she just so happened to be Han Daeun—the girl you’d seen him with by his car. They’d met again at some bar, and hit it off, according to your older brother. You supposed she had been the one he was talking about that night after your graduation. It made sense now.
You didn’t call to congratulate Yoongi. Why would you anyway? That’d be too weird, even for you guys. Hey, I know we haven't talked in a long time but I just wanted to wish you the best. Yeah, weird.
You tried not to be jealous, but there was still that bitter sting in your chest when you found out the news. But . . . it was lesser now. The distance had softened the ache that he had left within you, even if there were nights when you’d look back at your old childhood diary and allow yourself to let a few tears slip at the memories.
Remembering the past hurt.
But you stayed occupied.
You had to as your first year as an adult wasn’t exactly ideal. You had dropped out of college within the first month, not because you couldn’t handle it or were falling behind, but because you knew this was not the path that had been carved for you. Your path was somewhere else. It was getting your hands dirty, getting your name and your pieces out into the world of art.
Your career was a work in process, but you were getting there.
From dusk till dawn you worked. You applied everywhere, trying to book gallery after gallery, and it paid off as you were contacted to submit a few pieces for the grand opening of a new gallery. Your hands were calloused and withered, but you didn’t care. Soon, the name Yoongi had stuffed into the back of your mind, allowing your work to be the center of your attention.
This was how you got over him.
But one night, just as you were finishing up in your studio, your phone pinged. You’d received a text . . . from Yoongi.
Yoon Your brother told me about the gallery. I’m proud of you. :)
You stared at the text for a few minutes, clutching the necklace around your neck that he had given you before you reached to reply.
You typing . . . I miss you
But your thumb hovered over the send button. Your eyes flicked back to his text, and it dawned on you that you couldn’t hit send.
His words had stuck with you. They had been innocent just as they always had been. This was your relationship now: sending each other support every few months, but never anything more. There would be no more basketball matches or piano lessons. Just this. It would never be as it used to be.
And you had to be fine with that.
You were, you decided that night.
You would let it all go—all the love, all the memories, all the hurt. You’d let it all go for this: a few simple encouraging words from an old friend.
A smile lifted onto your face as your thoughts agreed with each other. Then, you erased your previous message, and typed a new one before you nodded and hit send.
You Thank you, Yoon.
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You had invited Hari over to celebrate her first month of college, along with Taehyung and Jimin. Of course, your roommate, Namjoon was already there—the same boy you had shared your first kiss with. You’d grown closer to him over the past year or so. He’d found you one day, struggling to carry your canvases to your studio while he was heading to class. He’d skipped to help you, and once you got to talking, he had managed to convince you to let him be your unofficial-official assistant. He claimed it would be the work experience he’d need when he graduated and went on to start his own business.
You hadn’t known exactly what he meant as it made no sense whatsoever, but you did like the idea of someone running your errands for you. And with a handshake, you had an agreement. The rest was history . . .
Now, at your apartment, your group was situated around the small coffee table. It was Namjoon’s idea to play Russian Roulette—a stupid drinking game with cards that he claimed he had made up, but you were sure he was full of shit. (Taehyung had wanted to play Go Fish, but everyone ignored . . . that.)
With six shot glasses in front of the group, only a few being full of vodka, the five of you guys immersed yourselves in the game. And when it got to the fifth round, you pulled your card, only to discover you had the lowest number for the third time in a row. Your friends bellowed out cheers, while you groaned.
“What the fuck?!” you whined, throwing your head back. “That’s the third fucking time!”
“Sucks to suck,” Jimin laughed.
You jumped at him, the boy falling backward as Namjoon pulled you away from him.
“Woah, woah, woah, no need to get hostile,” Namjoon voiced. “Just take the loss like a man and throw it back.”
You glared at him over your shoulder. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep.”
Namjoon blinked. “And on that note, I think Jimin should take the boss’s shot!”
“Yah!” Jimin shouted. “She lost!”
Taehyung’s hand shot up in the air. “I say they fight to the death for it!”
A slap on his chest from Hari made him lower his hand. “Don’t be stupid,” she huffed. “Jimin take the shot.”
Jimin only gasped.
You rolled your eyes. “Fuck, fine!” you groaned as you picked from the six shot glasses and hoped you had picked water. You didn’t think as you took the shot, quickly discovering it was, in fact, vodka. You gagged at the taste, but swallowed it down. “Fuck you guys. Did you fill all of them with vodka?”
Jimin and Taehyung eyed each other.
You raised your brows. “Did you?”
Taehyung tilted his head. “Well—”
But there was a knock at your door that interrupted him. You rolled your eyes as you told them you’d be back, leaving the four to loudly fight over the fact that the two boys had ruined the game. You reached the door, swinging it open only for your eyes to meet those of the same person you hadn’t seen since you graduated over a year ago.
“Yoongi?” you breathed out, your voice a whisper.
He gave you that same sweet half-grin, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling slightly as he saw your face. “Hey, kid.”
You scrunched your brows. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” he said, his words slurring slightly.
He was drunk.
You stiffened. “You’re drunk.”
His grin fell and his head dropped at your words as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I am,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I knew it was a bad idea to show up. I . . . I was gonna call but I dropped my phone at the club.” He still didn’t meet your eyes. “Your brother—He went home with a girl, and to be honest, I did not want to be there for it . . . so he gave me your address . . . “
“And?”
Yoongi sheepishly looked up. “I was wondering if I could sleep on your couch?”
You released a sigh, leaning against the doorway. “Isn’t your girlfriend in town? Can’t you stay there?”
“I would, but I don’t know my rights from my lefts. We're also kind of fighting right now. That—That’s why I’m—I think we’re over. I don’t know. I also don’t think I could make it anyway,” Yoongi slurred, laughing slightly. “Like, there’s definitely two of you right now, which honestly isn’t that bad of a sight but—”
“Fine,” you cut him off, trying to ignore the fact that he'd just confessed he and his girlfriend were having problems. You didn't want to hope they'd break up. That was a horrible thing to wish upon him. (But . . . you also couldn't help it.) “You can come in.” You pushed the door, swinging it open enough for the boy (man, now?) to stumble in.
Getting Yoongi to lay down was a hassle on its own. As soon as he entered your apartment, he’d recognized Namjoon, and started going on about how he was gonna kick his ass if he touched you again. He’d even tried to pry Namjoon off the couch, but due to his intoxicated state, he ended up slumping against the floor, giving up entirely. Only then was it possible for you and Namjoon to carry him to your room, where he’d be sleeping for the night. (There was no way you were going to burden Namjoon by having your old friend sleep in your shared living room.)
And once Yoongi had kicked off his shoes, making himself incredibly at home, you rolled your eyes, telling Namjoon that you were just going to stay in your room to make sure he wouldn’t roll off the bed and die or something. He’d nodded, and quickly joined the others, closing the door behind him, and leaving the two of you alone.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, breathing a heavy sigh. You blinked a few times, your eyes drifting over to Yoongi’s sleeping figure on your bed, and something in your chest swelled. You let your emotions get the better of you as you sat down on the bed, reaching a hand for his hair that had been dyed mint-green now. You ran your fingers through it, massaging his scalp in the process as you came to the conclusion that his hair was a little shorter now and you liked it all the same.
You hated the fact that he had this effect on you; that no matter how much time had passed, you’d still be that same little girl watching him walk through your front door, thinking that he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen.
You halted your actions at that realization. You would always love him . . . wouldn’t you?
You didn't miss the way your eyes burned as those thoughts dawned on you. You were still so fucked.
But the wallowing in the dark alone didn’t last long as you felt Yoongi shift under you, groaning slightly as if he were whining . . . ? His hand found yours a second later as he rasped out, “Feel nice. More.”
You almost snorted at that, drying your eyes.
“No,” you mumbled as you reached for the glass of water that you managed to get before taking him into your room. “Drink.”
And Yoongi obliged, sitting up as he took the glass and chugged. Once he was done, he reached to put it on the bedside table before his eyes found yours. But they didn’t stay fixated on you for long, before he reached for you, pulling you into him by your waist and laying back down with you in his arms. You only groaned, quietly protesting at his sudden affection.
“Yoongi, get off, you fucker,” you huffed, but you didn’t pull away from him.
At that, Yoongi only snickered as he pulled you in tighter and buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. “I can’t sleep without hugging a pillow,” he mumbled into your skin, causing you to shiver at the feeling.
“So I’m a pillow now?”
“More or less.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Mmm, but I’m your asshole,” he sang as he squeezed your sides.
You smacked his back, pushing him away from you only enough so you could look him in the eyes. And with his arms still secured safely around you and your faces only a few inches apart, you swore your heart stopped. But Yoongi only smiled, his gums on display.
“You still have the necklace,” he hummed out as he pressed a hand to your chest where the necklace lay.
Your breath hitched in your throat. “I guess I couldn’t give it up.”
The smile on his face widened. “Good, never give up on . . .” he mumbled, trailing off probably due to his intoxicated state (but you could’ve sworn he had wanted to say something else) with his hand still on your chest. You swore he could feel your heart beating, and you hoped he wouldn’t think anything of it.
The silence consumed you then, you staring at Yoongi with wide eyes as he remained oblivious while he toyed with the necklace around your neck. He pulled on it slightly, causing you to move closer to him. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, then, and you felt like you were a lovestruck kid again.
“I missed you, angel,” he finally whispered.
Angel. He had never called you that before. Was it because he and his girlfriend were fighting? Did he think . . .
You didn’t smile this time, growing cold. “You always say that.”
The half-grin on Yoongi’s face slowly fell. “Did you not . . . miss, uh, miss me?”
You felt a lump forming in your throat. Yes. Of course, you missed him. You were sure you’d miss him forever. But . . . you couldn't have him looking at you like you were still that same lovesick child. It didn't matter if he broke up with his girlfriend or whatever! The fact of the matter still remained the same.
He would never be yours, and you weren’t his.
And Yoongi took your silence as an answer.
No, it seemed to hiss, and you let him believe that to be true because it was better than admitting you were still that stupid little girl, running away from him when you saw him making out with Daeun against his car.
“You’re my brother’s best friend,” you forced yourself to say. “That’s all, right?”
Yoongi blinked. “Right.”
You nodded. “So what’s there to miss?”
Yoongi met your gaze then. “Nothing, I guess.”
And then he was pulling away, turning around so his back was facing you as he wrapped his arms around himself. His breathing became slower, heavier, in the minutes to come, and you knew he had fallen asleep, but you couldn’t.
Letting go wasn’t easy, you decided. You would have to put the necklace away tomorrow. It would be wise to not see him after this. It would be wise . . .
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“You guys are like family to me, so I figured now would be the best time to tell you that . . . I asked Daeun to marry me,” Yoongi announced, standing at the head of the dinner table with a beer in his hand and that half-grin on his face. “She said yes.”
The rim to the bottle of beer in your hand stopped at your lips as your friends and family erupted into cheers and loud applause, gathering around Yoongi to congratulate him. It was just supposed to be a small get-together with friends and family to celebrate their accomplishments that year; it was just supposed to be a normal day for you . . . until you heard Yoongi say those words.
He’d asked Daeun to marry him. The last time you saw him, he'd told you they were fighting. You thought that meant they were on the road to breaking up, not . . . getting engaged.
But you were wrong.
Yoongi was getting married. He was—
You pushed out of your seat, quickly apologizing that you needed some air before you headed outside to your backyard. Your feet were moving faster than you could think and your heart was hammering in your chest. You felt sick and mildly like you would throw up any second.
Min Yoongi was engaged.
He was fucking engaged.
And all you could feel was this deep anger boiling inside of you. It wasn’t that you hated him. You couldn’t even if you tried. Rather, you hated yourself. This anger was toward yourself and only toward you. Why did you have to fall for him of all people? Why did this heartache have to last so long? Why couldn’t you just move on?
You buried your face in your hands. You didn’t care if your makeup smeared. You wanted to rip the skin off anyway.
He was getting married, and there was nothing you could do about it except hate yourself even more. One childhood crush had managed to ruin your life. Even at twenty years old, you were just as fucked as you had been when you were ten. You’d loved him for a decade now . . . a decade too long.
You just couldn't let go. You never threw away the necklace. Hell, you still kept the paper ring you had made for him when you were twelve, in hopes that when you did turn twenty-five, he’d finally accept it. You still had hope as stupid and foolish as it seemed.
You should’ve let him go years ago.
But you couldn’t.
And just as you had begun to feel the burning in your eyes become worse, the door leading to the backyard slid open. You quickly wiped your eyes and cleared your throat before you stood to your feet, wiping your hands on your baggy jeans but you didn’t look to see who had invaded your space. You glanced up at the sky instead, discovering how quickly the sun had set. What a funny little thing time was, you thought.
And then you heard him . . .
“Hey, kid,” Yoongi spoke from behind you, his voice soft and calm, but a little gruffer than it used to be. He had changed. You still had trouble accepting this.
Nevertheless, you cleared your throat and put on the front you’d perfected before you turned around and met Yoongi’s dark gaze. Warm feline-like brown eyes stared back at you, nursing the wounds inflicted on your soul.
You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Hey.”
He took a hesitant step toward you, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweats. “Why’d you leave?” he questioned.
You wondered what he thought of you now. Had he truly believed you when you told him you didn’t miss him? Did he think your crush had faded away? You hoped he had. That would be easier to fathom.
So you tried your best to convince him you looked at him as if he were just your older brother’s best friend, and shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone, but—” you paused, trying to think of a lie— “I fainted in my studio over the weekend so, you know, obviously, I went to the doctor and my . . . iron levels are low. So, um, surprise, I’m anemic!”
Yoongi blinked at you, concern morphed onto his face (with a hint of . . . disappointment ( . . . ? ) in his eyes).
God, you were bad at this.
A hand flew to your face as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Anyway . . . I just . . . I thought I was gonna pass out, so . . . “ you let your words trail off as the silence finished your sentence.
He crossed the path toward you, reaching you in no time as one hand flew to secure around your arm while the other touched your forehead. “Are you getting help for it? No, sorry, do you need something to drink? Water? I feel like beer won’t help with the symptoms, right?” he rushed out, his face stern and solemn as he roamed concentrated eyes over your features while he checked your temperature with the back of his hand.
You blinked at him. “I’m . . . um, I’m fine,” you stuttered out as you took a step away from him, detaching his hands from your body. “It’s not like there’s much to do for it, just gotta keep watch.”
To be honest, you had no idea what exactly being anemic meant, but . . . it was either feed into the lie or confess that you were still in love with him. The latter seemed like the worst route to take, so lying it was.
And Yoongi seemed to believe you, so win-win, you supposed.
The next second, the silence had begun to eat away at you and you were forced to say something.
“You’re engaged,” was what you had opted for. Great start.
Yoongi, looking taken aback, stared at you, that same hint of disappointment in his eyes as he spent his time searching your features for something, although you couldn’t exactly tell what he was looking for. But you needn’t dwell on it for too long as he shook his head the next second, and let a warm smile touch his lips. “I’m engaged,” he confirmed.
The ache in your chest worsened as you forced yourself to smile. “I’m happy for you, Yoon,” you heard yourself say as you patted his shoulder. “Truly.”
Yoongi rested his hand over yours, squeezing it. “Thank you, kid,” he said, his voice a whisper.
A beat of silence.
“Your boyfriend’s nice,” Yoongi announced.
Another beat of silence. You shifted in your spot. You had almost forgotten you invited this guy you’d been seeing for the past few weeks. It wasn’t anything serious. None of these flings you had ever were.
“Not my boyfriend,” you finally said after a minute. “More like a fuck buddy.”
Yoongi gave you that same damn look you had always hated before he opened his mouth, “You’re—”
“Too young for that?” you finished for him, a small smirk sliding onto your face. “I know you too well, Min Yoongi.”
Yoongi leaned in closer to you, his face solemn. “And I know you well enough to know you don’t want this,” he whispered, his voice scratchy as his eyes searched yours. “That little girl who believed in magic is still in there.” He laughed, remembering the past. “You would watch Matilda over and over again because you said art to you was like your power . . . like your gift just as telekinesis was hers. You—you believe in magic. You believe in doing the impossible. You believe in . . . love.” He cleared his throat only once. “You believe in love. I know you do.”
What answer was he looking for? He wouldn’t find the girl he had grown up with. The past was in the past, there was no remanence of it in those eyes of yours. There was just heartache hidden behind dead eyes and dark eye bags.
“I remember you used to make me watch romcoms with you when Jin would fall asleep,” he went on. “Come on, where’s the girl who wanted her first kiss to be special?”
Confusion twisted onto your face. Why would he ask you that? He had no place.
But, still, you did not want to fight today. You didn’t want him to think you still felt something toward him, so you did your best to mask your emotions, and simply smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. And then, you looked him dead in the eyes and said, “She grew up.”
Yoongi blinked, taken aback. He shook his head and cleared his throat a second later, his eyes drifting down your attire, but it was a fleeting glance. Still, he managed to mumble out, “I can see that.”
You stood your ground, clicking your tongue. “Well, should we go back inside then?” you questioned.
Yoongi only nodded.
With that, you patted him on the shoulder once before you walked by him and headed for the door. But before you slid it open, you turned your head over your shoulder and called out to him. He turned around, his eyes on you, but he was looking at you in a way he had never looked at you before. It felt . . . intimate; too much so for you to handle.
“Congrats,” you forced yourself to say before you could melt under his gaze. “I mean it. I wish you and Daeun all the best.” You forced a smile on your face. “Promise I’ll get to be godmother one day?”
Yoongi’s brows twitched, and for a second you could’ve sworn you saw a hint of sadness stretching across his face. But it was gone before you could even blink.
“I promise,” he finally replied, his voice low and soft . . . mellow even.
You stuck your hand up, your pinky finger on display. You lifted your brows once. “Pinky promise?”
A small smile tugged at Yoongi’s lips as he mirrored your actions, sticking his pinky finger up. “Pinky promise,” he hummed.
But neither of you moved to lock your fingers together. You didn’t need to. The both of you knew what this gesture meant.
It was a promise—another one to add to your little jar of pinky promises you had kept over the years. You wondered how many of those the two of you had broken already as you walked inside and left Yoongi outside alone.
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Half a year later, you found yourself sitting through Yoongi and Daeun’s wedding. They decided to have it quicker than expected, opting for a winter ceremony as per Daeun’s request. Daeun had even offered for you to be one of her bridesmaids, but Yoongi had refused, claiming you had to be one of his best men or rather best woman in this scenario. And how could you refuse?
Your dress was red as was Seokjin’s tie and the rest of the wedding party. After the ceremony, your brother insisted on wearing a pin that said ‘best man’ and quickly went to the champagne flutes that were displayed in the dining hall for the reception. He’d be giving a speech later, but you’d seen him act sober before, so whatever.
That didn’t stop Hoseok from going over to him, trying to get the man to slow down before the champagne shot out his nose. You rolled your eyes, laughing slightly at the two boys you had grown up with as you slowly made your way to the table where your seat was located.
As people floated into the room, taking their seats, you watched in melancholy. You watched familiar faces converse with each other, talking about the now bride and groom. And you knew it was wrong, but as you sat there, you secretly imagined that this had been your wedding.
You almost smiled at the thought, but caught yourself just in time. It really was time to throw that damned paper ring in the trash.
But before your thoughts could go too far, you suddenly heard someone call out your name, tearing you from your mind.
Your eyes flicked up to see Hari waving over to you. You waved back, a wide smile slowly crawling onto your face. You watched as Taehyung and Jimin stepped in the room after Hari, whacking each other and then scolding the other as they did so. Hari turned around, tugging on their ears and hissing something to them that quickly made them straighten their posture. And like clockwork, Namjoon strolled in, looking completely oblivious as the three turned to glare at him. (Yoongi had warmed up to Namjoon over the years, finally accepting him into his life . . . (but you still had to beg him to invite him to the wedding.).
This was a happy time, you tried to remind yourself. You should be happy just as they were . . . but you knew you weren't.
It appeared Hari had noticed this too as she quickly stopped Taehyung and Jimin from going over to bother you. The thing was: Jung Hari knew about the feelings you harbored for Yoongi, and she knew what this day meant for you. That also meant she knew not to bother you. (Couldn’t have one of the best men (best woman? Whatever!) crying into a champagne flute before the reception even started.)
And you had managed to keep your emotions in check throughout the majority of the reception. You kept a happy face, smiling at Yoongi and his bride. You conversed with his friends from college, explaining you were Seokjin’s kid sister, which basically meant Yoongi was like an older brother to you (if only, then this wouldn’t be so hard). You laughed, and made jokes, and did everything you were supposed to do. You were absolutely perfect.
Until it got to the speeches.
Daeun’s friends went first, sharing how they met the bride and the first time they were introduced to Yoongi. Then was the bride’s mother, and her sister following shortly after. All the while, you clutched the piece of paper in your hand where you had written your speech, secretly wishing this stupid scrap paper had been your vows and not . . . this. And while you feared you may suffocate under all the pressure, Seokjin stood up to give his speech. It wasn’t long, rather it was short and sweet and filled with all the humorous things they had done as kids. He even mentioned the little basketball scrimmages he, Yoongi, Hoseok, and you would have.
And then it was your turn . . .
With the clearing of your throat, you stood from your seat, paper still clutched tightly in your hand. Seokjin hadn’t sat down, still grinning widely as if he felt the need to stand by and guard his sister while you gave your speech. Which . . . whatever, you felt oddly more sure of yourself with your brother by your side, so your eyes found his first before you moved on to the other guests.
Your eyes roamed over the tables of people, finally landing on Yoongi, and then your heart began to race. You swallowed your feelings and cleared your throat once more before your eyes landed on the stupid speech you had written.
“Um . . . for those I haven’t had the chance to meet properly I’m Seokjin's sister and the groom's favorite Kim sibling . . . and this has got to be one of the happiest days of my life,” you began, as you lifted your eyes and began to put on the performance of your life. “From day one, Yoongi and my brother were like these two peas in a pod. I honestly think they even went to the bathroom together. You know, one does his business while the other hands him toilet paper. Weird, weird boys . . . “
Light laughter filtered throughout the room as you trailed off. You smiled slightly as your eyes drifted back down to your words on the paper. “Um, but, uh, with that came other things,” you began again. “Having an older brother is like having your personal guardian angel from the moment you’re born. Some of us aren’t as lucky as others, but, I . . . I was lucky enough to have two protectors.” Your eyes found Yoongi’s. “Yoongi’s been my protector from the day I met him . . . just . . . just like my older brother here.” You patted Seokjin’s shoulder.
“I mean he’s been pulling me out of the street when I’ve stepped in front of cars for years now,” you went on, trying to make your words flow, but failing. “He’s tied my shoes when they’ve come undone. I mean—” you gave an awkward laugh— “on my sixteenth birthday, I got so drunk I literally thought I was gonna die, and as always Yoongi was there to, let’s say, nurse me back to health.” You laughed again, wishing to disappear. “It’s funny how—”
But you cut yourself off, the realization dawning on you that these were not the words you wanted to leave with him before he started the rest of his life with someone else. For all you knew . . . this . . . this would be the last time you’d ever see him.
You sighed at your thoughts, squeezing your eyes shut as you nodded in acceptance. You folded the piece of paper, and breathed out a heavy breath before you lifted your head once again, your eyes finding Yoongi’s quickly. And you didn’t look away.
“I was a lonely kid,” you began, your voice softer now. “Yoongi came into my life when I was probably the loneliest I’ve ever been. From then, he’s only ever given me light . . . hope.” The corners of your lips twitched. “I mean the first time we met, he offered me, his friend’s kid sister, a slice of pizza because he noticed I was practically staring it down like I’d been starved for weeks. That already says something because oh, my god, imagine a small child eyeing you like you’re a chicken thigh. I would never do that, but . . . Yoongi would. That’s just who he is.”
You didn’t care to look at the audience's reaction. You only cared about Yoongi’s, and much to your surprise, the boy was staring at you, his eyes soft with a small, warm smile on his face.
“He cares,” you spoke again, your voice strained. “He notices things most of us don’t, and he shows he cares through small acts. He loves quietly but it’s endless, eternal . . . free.” You let a tight-lipped smile form on your face as you felt your eyes begin to burn with tears. “That is why I am so happy he has met someone who will love him in the same way back.”
Your eyes briefly glanced over at Daeun, before you averted your gaze to your open-toed heels. You blinked then, feeling a few tears slip down your cheeks. But you quickly wiped them away, grinning widely to make it appear as though you were crying tears of joy. Then your eyes found Yoongi’s again, searching them, but you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for. You just knew you didn’t want to look away.
And then you continued, “Choosing the person you want to share your life with is one of the most important decisions any of us makes ever, because when it’s wrong, it haunts you. You can’t escape that ghost—it’s ever-present and consuming and—and soul-crushing, and you don’t realize you’re being haunted by your mistakes until you wake up one day and realize years have gone by. We both know the consequences of our mistakes, Yoon. You’ve gotten me through most of mine.”
Your breath hitched in your throat as you caught sight of the tears glossing Yoongi’s eyes while he lifted a hand to massage his chin, trying to conceal his expression. You both knew the troubles you'd gone through. You knew the loveless hookups you'd had, and the times Yoongi had told you they didn't deserve you. You'd heard about his breakups. You both had known the ghosts in your lives, and you'd supported each other through it all.
So, the only thing you could do was smile at him—a warm, genuine smile.
“Your friendship has brought this feeling of weightlessness into my life. I’ve been able to get through my hardships because I always knew that even if no one had my back . . . you would,” you confessed, suddenly feeling as though the only person in the room was Min Yoongi, the first and perhaps only boy you would ever love. “I hope I haven’t taken you for granted . . . although I’m sure I have. I’ve given you no other choice but to deal with my temper tantrums—”
Seokjin cut you off, “And she has a lot of those.”
You felt yourself laugh with the audience. “Thank you, big brother,” you muttered as you lightly smacked his chest. “You are such a peach yourself.”
The audience laughed again, but you were only looking at Yoongi. He hadn’t laughed. He remained the same, his eyes glossy as he hid his expression with his hand, trying to keep that cool and calm exterior he always wore.
But you had learned how to read him well.
You knew how he would interpret your words. This wasn’t a speech to send him off into his new life with all the luck in the world . . . this was an apology—an apology for all the years you had blamed him for not reciprocating the feelings you had borne. This was an apology for childishly treating him as if he were the villain when it had been you all along.
This was how you apologized to him, and you both knew it all too well.
You would no longer be his ghost.
You swore it.
And as this all became clear to the two of you, you felt another tear spill down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with a laugh. “Um, sorry, sorry,” you mumbled on, still weakly laughing slightly. “Yoongi, I’ve spent years taking your friendship for granted. And I know I have because sometimes . . . amidst all the ghosts of those mistakes . . . you don’t realize that the best thing that has ever happened to you is sitting there right under your nose.” Your lips lifted into another warm smile, your eyes remaining glossy but never leaving his face as you slightly tilted your head. “But that’s fine too. It really is, because I’ve realized that . . . no matter where you are or what you’re doing or who you’re with . . . I will always . . . honestly . . . truly . . . completely . . . love you.”
There was a loud silence as those words left your lips, but you didn’t care. You just kept looking at Yoongi, and as you gazed at him, your eyes whispering your apology, you watched as a single tear trickled down Yoongi’s cheek. But he wiped it away as quickly as it had fallen.
That was when it dawned on you that you were still standing, gazing at a married man. You quickly cleared your throat and straightened your posture as you bit out the words, “Like a sister—” you smacked Seokjin’s chest— “loves a brother.”
“Ow,” Seokjin hissed.
But you ignored him. “Or a friend loves a friend,” you rushed out, gesturing to Yoongi. “I’ll always support your dreams as you have supported mine . . . no matter how weird or twisted they may have gotten or, god-forbid, will get.” You cleared your throat once more as you grabbed your champagne flute and lifted it in the air. “So, please, everybody join me in a toast to the bride and groom.”
Seokjin raised his first, officially starting the toast. “Huzzah!” he jokingly cheered before he downed the liquid.
“Huzzah,” you mumbled, quickly sitting down as the next speaker stood.
But you weren’t paying attention. Your mind was elsewhere. And almost as if you could sense someone looking at you, your eyes snapped up, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. Your heart swelled at the sight.
“Thank you,” he mouthed, the warm smile on his face never leaving.
You had only smiled back.
Of course, your smile seemed to say, anything for you.
Anything for him.
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Time was a tricky thing for you to wrap your head around, not because it was a particularly hard topic, but rather because of how quickly it actually passed. One second you were watching as Yoongi and Daeun sped off in a car that had Just Married written across it, your heart bleeding as you watched them go. And then the next second, you were standing in front of a whole audience, discussing your art pieces and the meaning behind all of them with a large, accomplished grin on your face.
Time was tricky because it was quick. It was filled with equal parts of bad and good memories. Time was just that . . . tricky.
And as time passed, a year quickly going by, and you living to see your twenty-first birthday, you realized just how far you had come.
You were now being offered job after job, people from all over commissioning you to create pieces for grand openings and whatnot. You had finally done it—made a name for yourself in the world of art. Hell, your name had even made local headlines by now. And while fortune was in your favor, you also made sure to make time to check up on your loved ones.
Your brother was off working at your father’s company, going on date after date. Hoseok always called to say how much he hated his boring office job, but he wasn’t miserable. After all, the Jung man ended up teaching tennis classes on his free days, finding more comfort in that than anything else. Hari, Taehyung, and Jimin were in their last year of college, so nothing new there . . . except, you know, Hari and Taehyung had finally decided to announce they started dating shortly after the wedding (Jimin was still refusing to be tied down, but they all knew that was just a front). Namjoon, well, Namjoon ended up begging Seokjin to hire him at the company, to which Seokjin obliged . . . only if he brought him breakfast every morning (which he obviously agreed to). And then there was Yoongi . . .
You had talked to Yoongi on and off for the past year, only really calling him to tell him about whatever new accomplishment you had achieved. And every time he’d tell you he was proud. His support gave you confidence; it gave you hope.
You’d tried to ask him about any gigs he’d gotten or any news about someone picking up the album, but he always redirected your questions, changing the topic. You supposed he didn’t want to talk about it, but you still managed to remind him that he always had your support; that he could do anything and all it took was a little time. And every time, he’d always just promise you that he’d try to believe in you so he could believe in himself.
He didn’t talk much about his new life or Daeun. You knew he had taken a job at your father’s company, working alongside your friends, but he never talked much about how he liked it. But he had always liked his privacy so you assumed there was nothing wrong.
Then one night, you had called him to tell him of the news you had just received. You see, the thing was: a couple days ago: you had received a call from an agent located in Busan. They’d called with an offer . . . one that, at first, seemed too good to be true. But as you researched and researched, you discovered the opportunities that these offers would give you would put you on the map, not only in South Korea but possibly all over Europe and even in the States. The only catch was . . . you would have to relocate to Busan that coming new year for a contract that would last a total of four years.
And the first person you thought of to tell this news to was . . . of course, Yoongi. But . . . when he answered, you immediately knew he was drunk and all other thoughts escaped your mind. You couldn’t tell him now. That would’ve been cruel.
“They decided to go with someone else,” Yoongi confessed into the phone, and you instantly knew what he had meant. He’d sent in a demo of a few of his original pieces to some real-deal agency and he’d been waiting to hear back from them. Neither of you guys had expected this . . .
“What do you mean, Yoon? Who?” you asked regardless.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
You felt your heart stop, already knowing what he meant. “What? What happened?”
“Daeun—” Yoongi paused, and it sounded as if he had stopped to take a swig of whatever he was drinking— “she says that this is for the best. She told me that, uh, that I should just focus on getting promoted at work instead of . . . wasting my time on music.“ His words trailed off, his breathing becoming heavier. “You know and . . . maybe she’s right. Maybe I should just give up this childish dream, huh? Settle down and have a kid. Doesn’t sound too bad.”
Fuck. You slid to your floor, eyes squeezed shut. “Yoon . . . “
“Fuck . . . I wanted it so bad, kid,” Yoongi breathed out, his voice strained. “I didn’t think I could want something so much, but I do. I did.” He cleared his throat, but you knew he was only fighting back a sob. “This . . . life . . . is too much. It’s pointless. Pointless to waste my time on fairytales. There had to be a point where I’d give up and just . . . settle, right? Fuck, I mean I’ve settled before for other things that are way more important than this . . . I guess it’s about time I settle for this nine to five, too, huh?”
You ached for him. “Where are you now? I’ll come to get you and we can talk and cry and watch stupid movies. We can—we can watch Matilda. Yeah, we’ll do that, and everything will be better in the morning. I promise,” you rushed out. “No, no, I pinky promise as stupid as it is. I swear on everything—”
But Yoongi cut you off by whispering your name, his voice soft. “You really are an angel, you know that, right?” he questioned, his words causing the tears you had been holding back to finally fall. “You were always too good for me. I’ve never . . . I’ve never deserved you. I want you to know that.”
“Yoongi . . . “ you murmured, your voice sympathetic.
“No, no—” Yoongi quickly rushed out, his words slurred— “I mean it. I’m sorry . . . for everything.”
Your eyes squeezed shut at his words as you leaned your head against the wall, letting yourself cry silently so he wouldn’t hear. You wet your bottom lip and gathered the courage to speak, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“If only that were true,” Yoongi muttered, laughing slightly. “I think there may be too much I have to apologize for.”
“Well, don’t,” you started. “Don’t apologize. I don’t want to hear it. You’re already forgiven. No matter what, I’m on your side. The only thing I need to hear right now is that you’re safe. OK? Can you tell me if you’re safe?”
“I’m safe, angel,” Yoongi hummed, but his voice was still strained. He was forcing himself not to break . . . for you.
You only cried harder, muffling your sobs with the back of your hand. You hadn’t known exactly what had overcome you, just that you wished you could take this pain he felt and bottle it up. You would bear his pain if it meant he’d finally be able to breathe. You knew you would. You always had just as he had done for you.
Only, you couldn’t carry his pain this time. That was perhaps the reason you had begun to sob.
“Can I come get you?” you asked after a second, desperation in your voice.
This was not the voice of a lover, this was a concerned friend needing to know the other was in good hands. You both knew this. There were no catches to your friendship, just unconditional care—the pure kind; the kind only written or read about.
“Stay home,” he only said, sighing softly. “Just . . . just stay on the phone, yeah? Just until I fall asleep or you do?” His voice was weaker when he spoke again. “Please?”
And you couldn’t do anything except agree. “I will,” you breathed. “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”
“I know, kid. I know.”
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Only a week passed before you got a call from Seokjin, telling you that Yoongi had stopped by your parents’ place for dinner. And that was when you decided you’d drop everything and rush to reach him as you were sure your support hadn’t been getting to him recently.
When you arrived, your brother had pointed to the backyard, quickly stating that Yoongi was out there, smoking a cigarette to relieve stress. He’d gone out there twenty minutes ago and no one had spoken to him since, too afraid they’d say the wrong thing and end up having him push them even more away. It seemed this last rejection had been it for him. He’d tried so long, only to be let down time and time again. But this . . . this had been the final push.
Deep down, everyone in the Kim household knew one thing: you could be the one to let him see the light again. And deep down, they were all waiting for you to show up. Because they all knew, there was only one person that could talk Yoongi down from the edge.
That person would always be you.
But as soon as you stepped one foot into your backyard, your eyes on Yoongi’s back, you knew something was different.
And then you spoke . . .
“Hey, Yoon,” you hummed, closing the sliding door behind you and taking a step toward him.
His back stiffened at the sound of your voice, but he didn’t move. A second passed. He took one last drag from his cigarette—which was apparently a new habit he’d picked up over the past year—before he glanced over his shoulder, eyes connecting with yours. You stilled at the sight.
His hair was back to black now as it had been since the wedding. He’d briefly told you Daeun said it made him look more professional, and how could you argue with that? He wouldn’t listen to you anyway. And now, seeing him in the flesh as he put out the cigarette and sent you a tight-lipped smile, you realized just how different he looked. Odd.
You stepped toward the man, standing beside him. “I understand that this is hard, Yoon, just please—”
“I’m gonna take Daeun’s advice,” he suddenly said, cutting you off. “I talked to my parents and they agreed it'd be best, so . . . I’m gonna focus more at work, and put more time in. Maybe in the Spring, we’ll be able to start a family and we’ll go from there.”
You could only blink in shock. “So you’re just giving up?”
“No, I’m—I’m . . . “
“Settling?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t accept it.”
A scoff left Yoongi’s lips—it was dry and void of emotion. “It’s not your decision to make. This is between me and my wife,” he bitterly spat.
You couldn’t believe it. He was actually going to give up . . . on everything. The same boy that told you your dreams were special had just told you he was giving up on his. And all you could do was rush out, “Is this really how you want to live your life? Settling for the mundane life that we always shit on? What happened to giving it your all? What happened to the world-renowned musician that would put on piano recitals just for his friend’s stupid little sister? Huh?”
“Don’t,” Yoongi grumbled, narrowing his gaze. “Don’t pretend like you know how it feels.”
“Why are you acting like this?” you suddenly asked, disbelief in your voice. “I just want to help you. I want you to see that this is not your only option.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “It’s not help, it’s pity. I especially don’t need that from you of all people.”
You squinted your eyes, tilting your head slightly to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
For a split second, guilt touched his features but he quickly turned away from you, trudging his fingers through his dark hair. “God, why did they even call you?” he groaned out.
You felt yourself scoff. “Because we’re friends, Yoon,” you muttered, putting your hands on your hips. “I’m worried about you and so are they. Seokjin—”
“Seokjin,” Yoongi couldn’t help but scoff, cutting you off as he turned to face you but didn’t look you in the eyes. “We’re not friends. You said that yourself, remember? You’re just Seokjin’s kid sister.”
There was a chilling silence as your eyes widened at his words. You had told him that the night he crashed at your apartment years ago. You hadn't meant it, but it was clear he thought you had. But you weren’t thinking of that.
You weren’t thinking clearly at all as you slapped your hands against your thighs and scoffed, “Oh, fuck this!” You took a step toward him, pointing a scolding finger into his chest. “I am not a goddamn punching bag, Yoongi. You don’t want to deal with your shit, then fine, but don’t take it out on me when you know damn well all I’ve ever done is support you.”
Yoongi’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “It’s not—It’s not about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “You don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it?” you countered, your anger boiling in your chest now. “I’ve been trying to make my dreams happen ever since we ran away on that train to Busan. I don’t think you get it. This shit isn’t linear. You have bad times and good times. And yeah, sometimes that means you get rejected from an agency, but that does not mean you give up.” You shook your head, only once. “You give up and all of it was for nothing. Is that what you want?”
Yoongi pursed his lips, his face solemn and stiff. “Maybe it is,” he whispered with a small shrug.
You weren’t sure if it was another scoff that left your lips or a muffled yell of frustration. You just knew one moment you were a few inches away from him, then the next you were in his face, teeth clenched and jaw twitching.
“You wanna sit there and tell me how it is, then fine, do that, but you better know that I, yes, of all people, understand what it feels like to fail,” you sternly stated, your voice being raised into a quiet yell. “I dropped out of fucking college, Yoongi. I was almost kicked out on my own when my dad found out. I’ve been trying for three years now, and it's finally paid off. But that does not change the fact that I know how it feels to want something so bad and not succeed at it, but I keep trying because it’s what I want to do, not because it’s what I feel like I have to do.” You swallowed, hard. “You told me to never give up. Why is it any different for you?”
That seemed to irk something within the man as he finally met your gaze, a fire burning within his eyes. “Because you can do that,” he simply spat. “You can decide not to go to college, and even if your dreams crash and burn, it’ll be OK because you’ve got daddy’s money to fall back on. Why do you think I majored in business, huh? Because I had to! I had to have a backup plan! That is why I’m doing this because I don’t have the option not to. That is something you will never understand.”
You blinked, taken aback. Because you’ve got daddy’s money to fall back on.
But Yoongi didn’t seem to notice your expression change as he went on, “Yeah, your dad might be a hard-ass and he might not talk to you for a few weeks, but he would never drop you completely. If I continue down that path, I will have no one. No support, no money, no nothing.”
“I told you you’d always have my support,” you reiterated, not knowing what else to say. Your words were trapped within your mind.
A small scoff left Yoongi’s lips as he shook his head, a grin sliding onto his face, but it wasn’t warm. “And what good will it do?” he finally hissed out. “Huh? Your support doesn’t mean I’ll have money to catch the bus or—or feed myself or even get a fucking place to live. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things."
You almost screamed at the way your heart dropped. Your eyes were growing hot, burning slightly as the tears threatened to spill. You had never fought with Yoongi like this . . . and deep down, you knew what this meant. Furthermore, you knew what he had meant with his words, and that almost ripped you in two.
“Does that go for me, too?” you asked, unable to stop yourself. “Do I mean nothing to you now?”
A flash of sympathy crossed Yoongi’s eyes, his words seemingly finally hitting him. He whispered your name, trailing off, unable to speak further.
And you couldn’t help but shake your head. “You’ve always done that,” you said, clicking your tongue as you lowered your eyes to the ground, catching sight of the basketball court flooring—the same floor which you both had stood on many times before. “You've always said my name like you’re too fucking scared to disappoint me by telling me how you really feel.”
“Fine,” Yoongi abruptly said. “You want the truth?”
You didn’t move. You didn’t need to.
Yoongi continued, “Your support has been burdensome.”
Your heart swelled, the pressure surely enough to make the organ bleed. But still, you wouldn’t let him see this. You fixed a cold glare on your face and raised your head, staring him directly in the eyes. If he wanted to go down this route, then fine. You wouldn’t let him get away with it for free.
Your cold gaze seemed to cause Yoongi’s eyes to soften, but he didn’t back down either. “You’re off attending galleries and getting your name out there and every single time you call me. You call me and it makes me feel like shit, because I’m here trying to make peace with this stupid office job because I keep failing to do what I really want. I’m jealous. I fucking envy you. Is that what you want to hear? That I can’t fucking stand talking to you because your success makes me realize just how useless I am?” he confessed, his voice hoarse. “Because I don’t want that. I don’t want to feel that way. I want to celebrate your successes but I can’t because every single time we talk you always say I have your support and one day I’ll make it . . . but yours is the only support I have and that on its own is not good enough.”
“Well—” you sucked on your teeth, forcing your emotions to the side— “at least you’re brave enough now to admit the truth, right?”
Yoongi stayed silent.
Time passed. It seemed to consume you, and you both were sure it would’ve swallowed you whole had Yoongi not spoken up after a minute.
“You’re not even trying to understand me,” he finally mumbled, his voice weaker now. Gone was the calm exterior he always wore. This new skin seemed fragile.
But you couldn’t fathom that right now. The only thing you felt was this deep feeling of anger, disappointment . . . betrayal even. “Understand you?” you couldn’t help but sneer. “You just told me I’m a burden.”
Yoongi furrowed his brows. “You’re not listening to me.”
He was right. You were beyond trying to hear him out. Your anger controlled you now. “Did you ever even care about me or were you faking that, too?” you questioned, the words coming out slow yet hostile.
And all Yoongi could do was stare at you, but his eyes gave him away. They narrowed and twisted, emotions swirling on his face as he took in your words. It was almost as if he couldn’t believe you would even suggest such a thing . . . like him not caring about you was this preposterous thing.
You weren’t sure anymore how out there the idea was now.
“Watch your mouth,” was all Yoongi could manage through gritted teeth.
But you didn’t care. You let the bottle containing your anger break as you yelled, “You once said you liked me for being reckless!”
“You said it yourself. We’re both different now.”
You squinted your eyes at his sheepish behavior. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“You haven’t really known me for a long time now,” Yoongi muttered, his voice quiet. “You and I both know that.”
A scoff left your lips as you shook your head. “You really think we’ve drifted that much apart?”
“I know we have,” he confessed. “You do, too.”
And you did. You had just never wanted to admit it, even now.
“If we have, then I hope you know that’s on you, not me,” you reiterated. “I may have changed, but I’ve stayed true to myself. You haven’t. The Yoongi I knew growing up would never just settle. He would fight. He wouldn’t give up. That Yoongi . . . that’s the Yoongi I—” you cut yourself off, realizing what you were about to admit. Even now, you couldn’t tell him. Instead, you went on, skipping over the feelings for him that you had bottled up. “That Yoongi was the friend I’ve been trying so hard to cling onto over the years, but I think, along the way as you changed, we both lost him. He’s gone now. All I see now is someone compensating for a crap personal life, by settling for a shitty career and—”
But Yoongi cut you off. “Crap—Crap personal life?” he spat, letting his anger become the best of him. “Okay, let’s see, um: stable relationship with beautiful wife, lots in common, and a great circle of friends, possibly a kid on the way in the near future, and a steady fucking career that I earned by going to college instead of wasting my twenties on a stupid dream that would have gotten me nowhere! That shit doesn't last, you know? You can get gig after gig and have your name plastered everywhere but it won't last forever! Nothing ever does!”
There it was. The confession you had been looking for. He thought you were wasting your life on this dream. That was the real reason you and him hadn’t been close for years now. He didn’t believe in you anymore. Somewhere along the years, he’d stopped supporting you, and you knew this, but you had never wanted to admit it. You never thought you’d have to come to terms with it . . . until right now . . . until he admitted it to your face.
He didn’t believe in you.
Not anymore.
And that was enough to convince you to finally walk away.
Without looking at him, you nodded your head a few times, digesting his words before you silently took a step back. That was when it seemed to dawn on Yoongi that he had just majorly fucked up, as he tried to reach out to grab your arm.
“Kid, come on, I—”
But you were faster, tearing your arm out of his grasp. “You said what you wanted.”
You watched in silence as he dropped his hand, accepting defeat. But, neither of you moved as if time was keeping you both stuck to that damned makeshift basketball court. How long would you leave each other there, quietly waiting for the other to say the words the two of you truly wanted to hear?
Well . . . it wouldn't be you.
In that moment, you had decided one thing: you had to truly let him go. There was no way you could live a life loving him, supporting him when he wouldn’t even think of doing the same. You had already decided to take the job in Busan a few days ago . . . but now . . . now you were certain. In the new year, you’d move to Busan and leave your old life behind. You had to.
Then, you found yourself confessing this discovery out loud. “I’m moving to Busan in the new year.”
Your words made the air grow cold. You glanced up to meet Yoongi’s gaze then, discovering that he was staring at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. And if you had looked a little closer, you’d see the disbelief and hurt ( . . . ? ) locked behind his eyes. But you hadn’t looked closer, and you never knew that this confession had ripped through Yoongi’s skin like a thousand cuts.
“I got an offer from an agent,” you went on, bitterness on your tongue. “That’s why I called that night . . . but seeing how you really feel, I’m glad I didn’t tell you. It’s a four-year contract. I’ll stay in Busan for the duration, working with other artists and such. It’ll put me on the map . . . internationally, but who knows . . . maybe I’m just wasting my twenties for a stupid dream. We’ll see, right?”
He choked out your name, trailing off with no snarky remark to follow your announcement.
But you didn’t stop to accommodate how he would feel. You just kept talking. “My train will leave at three on the second if you want to say goodbye.”
And with that, you turned to head for the door so you could finally head back to your apartment, but as you stuck your hand in your pocket, something stopped you.
There in the pocket of your jeans was the paper ring that you had made for him ages ago. Recently, you had been keeping it on you, convinced it gave you good luck. But now . . . now there was no point. What was the purpose of keeping it anyway?
So, you did something for yourself that night and pulled out the withered paper ring, turning to face Yoongi. You grabbed his hand, realizing you’d miss the warmth of his skin when you’d leave, but you ignored that and quickly pried his hand open so you could place the ring in his palm.
“Here—” you released the paper ring into his hand, but didn’t back away— “you told me to give this to you again when I turned twenty-five. Something tells me we won’t be seeing each other after this, so . . . “ Your words trailed off as you slowly closed his fingers around the withered ring. “I made it for you. It’s yours. Keep it.”
And then . . . you left.
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When the new year came, you stood awaiting the train that would take you toward your unknown future. You’d bid farewell to your parents and Seokjin. Saying goodbye to Hari, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon was hard, but saying goodbye to Hoseok was a little easier because that was just who he was: trying to make heavy situations a little lighter.
You hadn’t seen Yoongi since that night. You didn’t call him or text. You didn’t even ask where he was. You just let it be, but as the train approached, you still had hope he’d show up at the last minute.
You waited as long as you could. The train would be taking off soon. You knew this, but you still waited, holding out hope.
But he never came.
He wasn’t coming.
And you were forced to board the train without saying goodbye to the one person that had got you this far. The doors closed behind you, severing the bond you still held to this place; to your home; to him.
He hadn’t come.
Yoongi hadn’t come to say goodbye.
The train began to move, you sat with your head resting against the window as you watched the world pass by, all of your memories being left behind.
This time it was you who moved on, while Min Yoongi stood stagnant right where you left him.
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bangtansmauyeondan · 2 years
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MIDNIGHT’S MINUET | Part 17 - Turning Point
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Pairing: Yoongi x Fem Reader
Genre: Strangers to Enemies to Friends to ???, social media au, chef au, musician au, slow burn, fluff, implied smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.
Summary: While gallivanting around the world pursuing his love for music and architecture, Yoongi was forced to come back home when Seokjin, his older brother, asked him for help to run the family business. Having been born with a silver spoon, Yoongi longed for a bit of normalcy and independence; hence, agreeing with Seokjin’s request didn’t come without any of his own conditions— first, he’s going to oversee the hotel’s kitchen; second, he’s gonna let him live a normal life— no luxury cars, no high-rise building apartment, no special treatment. Yoongi was pleased that everything seemed to be going well with his return… until he met you, the roadblock to everything his brother has agreed to.
SERIES TAGLIST: @jayhope88 @halesandy @sugakookies0613 @pinkseokchim @superrmins @belladaises @potatoandfries @cherrybubblesandvodka @sope-and-shine
PERMANENT TAGLIST: @highly-functioning-mitochondria @persphonesorchid @thatbangtanjagiya @jjwamaisvu @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @bts-reveries @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @pamzn @wrmnssoul @ygbubs
A/N - This explains YN side! :) I know some of you think our girl is overreacting! Hear her out. She’ll come around! Both series taglist and permanent taglist are open!
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virgokook · 2 years
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HELP!!!! I’m trying to locate a fic i read a while ago but can’t find to save my life 😭😭😭
it was a sexworker!reader x cameraman!yoongi fic … i don’t remember much about it except that it was like “the reader never had to worry bc yoongi never got hard watching her film” AND THE FIC WAS SO GOOD
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missywritesfor7 · 3 months
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❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹
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Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.
Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC
Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS
Next chapter | Masterlist
In the spirit of the season I thought I’d give the first chapter of this new fic to you all 🤗 I haven’t fully worked out the specific day, but I’ll be posting a chapter a week after the new year so stay tuned! 💜
Ch. 1: Love
Time seems slow when you’re in the middle of it. Even slower when you’re looking forward to something. Yoongi spent 21 months away from his home, his members, Army, his family, and his girlfriend who he had only been dating 3 short months before he had to leave.
Yoongi and Hyeri had known each other before, both being under Hybe as artists. Na Hyeri, stage name: Rainbow, began her idol career with a short lived girl group called Two Piece under a much smaller company. The group disbanded after just two mini albums, and a lot of attention thanks to their company infamously mishandling everything from money to the artist’s safety and well-being. When the smoke died down, Hyeri signed with Hybe as a solo artist and has made a name for herself in the few years since her solo debut.
She first met Yoongi when he produced a song that she performed for a tourism campaign. The song made waves across social media and beyond and Hyeri found herself gaining a mass of new fans. The first time they ran into each other after the campaign took off, Hyeri jokingly thanked Yoongi for the new fans. That turned into an hour long conversation that was the beginning of a new relationship.
After endless texts, phone calls, and sneaking to see each other around the company building whenever they could, they became official. To themselves mostly and close family and friends. Yoongi told the rest of the members and Hyeri told her best friends and former bandmates, Haeun and Minji. To the rest of the world they’re just label mates who worked on a song together.
Being under the same company made things easy. Moving in together 2 months later made things even easier. Yoongi’s enlistment however, made things harder.
For 21 months Hyeri lived alone waiting for Yoongi with the rest of the world. His few vacation times never seemed long enough and his discharge date seemed like it was centuries away.
Then he was back. And just like that those 21 months didn’t seem so bad after all. Things were as they had been before with all seven of them back together again.
Hyeri had begun taking more and more acting jobs so she was fairly busy, but always left a note and a snack for Yoongi when she’d leave before him. Other times she would give him a soft kiss when she’d come home late and find him already asleep. Yoongi always sent her a meal if she were home and he wasn’t. The nights he spent in his studio instead of home he would make up for with more gifts than necessary. Jewelry, stuffed animals, posters of himself, and the occasional pair of shoes despite him telling her he wouldn’t buy her shoes since she already has so many.
Once the group’s big post-military comeback had concluded, Yoongi felt truly happy. He was back with his brothers making music and seeing Army again, and he had his girlfriend by his side who he’s deeply in love with. All felt right in the world.
Yoongi had begun working on new music for the group’s upcoming full length album. He’s been in his studio much more instead of home, but it’s not too bad. Hyeri finished shooting her small parts in a drama she was cast in and had begun working on a couple of songs for the soundtrack. When she was done recording for the day, she would come by Yoongi’s studio and spend as much time there as she could since she knows he may not come home that night.
This day is like any other. Hyeri finished her final recording session and dropped by Yoongi’s studio with a dinner of his favorite cheat meal, noodles. They both sit on his couch eating, chatting, and cuddling a bit once they’ve cleared their bowls.
“I think this may have been my last recording session,” Hyeri says with her legs rested across Yoongi’s lap.
“So you’re really going to do it?” Yoongi asks.
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I know it’s going to suck and you’re going to hate it, but I just…” she pauses and looks up at his face. He may be expressionless, but she knows that’s just him trying to hide his disappointment.
“Hybe is more of a music company, you know that,” she continues. “I just really think I’ll have much better acting opportunities with JJS since they’re such a successful acting agency.”
JJS is one of the top entertainment agencies in the acting world. They house some of the best entertainers in the industry, from romance movie heartthrobs, variety show comedians who have become household names, and even action movie baddies. Hyeri had been looking into switching companies so that she can embark on her new career as a full time actress. She’s gotten a number of roles through Hybe already. Mostly a few commercials and a couple of small cameos in tv shows. For her, switching to JJS could mean finally getting her breakout opportunity to send her acting career soaring.
“I know we won’t get to see each other like this anymore,” she says. “But we’ll still see each other at home. Don’t be mad,” she pouts.
“I’m not mad,” Yoongi says caressing her leg. “I told you before I would support you no matter what you decide.”
“But you still don’t like it.”
“It’s fine. We’ll see each other at home, right?”
“We never see each other at home,” she pouts more.
“You just said…” he chuckles shaking his head and pulls her closer to him. “We’ll make it work. I want you to follow your dreams. Don’t hold yourself back because of me.”
“Are you sure you’re ok with it? Do you think it will make things hard?”
“Not as hard as me being away for 21 months,” he chuckles. “Trust me.”She nods and he gives her a reassuring kiss.
Hyeri goes back and forth on whether she’s making the right decision. Yoongi constantly tells her she is but she’s struggling to believe it. She spends less time in the company building since she’s not working on anything and will be leaving soon. That means she’s been home alone a lot. It’s nothing new to her, but she’s starting to realize how hard it may actually be. Especially when she starts working again.
Yoongi is the perfect support for her. He keeps her sane and assures her that he’ll stand by her no matter what she does or where she goes. Sure it will come with challenges, but he knows they can make it work.
Things start off fine. News of Hyeri signing with JJS was met with lots of support from her fans. She immediately landed a small supporting role in a movie and Yoongi couldn’t be happier for her.
Shooting on the movie began and that became the true test of their relationship. They rarely saw each other. When one of them would leave or come home, the other would be asleep. Yoongi would even spend less time in his studio so he could be home on the off chance that she gets there early. She never did and he would spend another night falling asleep alone.
It’s frustrating for them both to be so close yet so far from each other. Yoongi has completed the majority of his work on the songs for their new album. Even with endless recording and dance practices, he still can’t seem to find enough to do to keep his mind off of the empty space in his bed that smells like Hyeri.
They text when they can but it’s never enough. They miss each other and start to feel like they were able to talk to each other more when he was in the military. No matter how hard they try or how bad they want it, they can never seem to get their schedules to line up.
One day that finally changes. A month into Hyeri’s shoot, and about a month before Yoongi embarks on another BTS comeback era, they find an overlap in free time in their schedules. Yoongi had a gap in his schedule that gave him a bit of free time. He typically would spend that time in his studio. However, Hyeri had a last minute cancellation that gave her the rest of the evening off.
Yoongi only has an hour to see Hyeri so he rushes out and tells her to meet him at a nearby restaurant for dinner. He would rather see her at home so they can be in private, but the further he has to go, the less time that will leave him with Hyeri. He’s so desperate that he doesn’t want to lose a second.
Since time is limited and privacy is important, Yoongi chose a small snack food place that he and the members had been going to for many years. They always have a table in the back away from the public eye for them. It’s private enough and a quick meal.
Yoongi arrives at the restaurant first. He doesn’t have to wait long before Hyeri arrives, though to him it felt like hours. She looks around a moment then runs to give Yoongi a long kiss filled with so much pent up longing.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in years,” Hyeri says kissing him again.
“I missed you,” he says stealing one more kiss before she takes her seat across from him.
“I wish we had time but I’ll take this over nothing,” she says quickly scanning the menu. “There’s so much I want to tell you about the movie shoot! It’s been so much fun and everyone has been really cool. I really think I made the right choice. I just wish it didn’t keep me away from you so much.”
“I know, Bow,” he says, calling her by the shortened version of her stage name, Rainbow. “You’ll have more time once the shooting is done. Then even more time when you finish all the promos.”
“I know, baby, but aren’t you guys going on your world tour around the time I finish shooting? I know things haven’t been finalized yet, but we really wouldn’t have much time together before you’re off traveling the world.”
Yoongi knows she’s right and it breaks his heart to see the sadness in her eyes. Their server comes by to take their order before he can think of something to say to make her feel better.
After placing their order and sitting in silence a few moments, Yoongi reaches across the table and takes Hyeri’s small hands into his.
“I wish I could take you with me,” he says forcing a smile.
“I don’t know,” she chuckles trying to lighten the mood. “You might get sick of me then.”
“I won’t get sick of you,” he chuckles. “Even when you’re annoying, you’re still beautiful.”
“Are you trying to romance me, Mr. Min?” She jokes.
“I was only stating a fact,” he chuckles.
“Admit it, Yoon-gya, you like me,” she laughs calling him by the nickname that never fails to make him laugh.
When Hyeri first met Jin he was speaking so fast she could hardly understand him. When she heard him shout “Yoongi-ah” it sounded like “Yoon-gya” to her. After they began dating she asked Yoongi why Jin calls him “Yoon-gya”. Yoongi was confused at first, but once he realized what she was saying he never let it go. In return she calls him that whenever she’s messing with him.
“I love you,” he chuckles. “But still…you’ll wait for me, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, babe.” She shakes her head knowing he should know better. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s going to take more than an enlistment and a world tour to get rid of me.”
He gives her hands a light squeeze and flashes his gummy smile in happiness. Both of them are soaking up each other’s presence in this rare moment they have together. They continue talking about work and things they haven’t been able to tell through text. Their food arrives and they continue chatting as they eat.
That hour is much too short. It only felt like a few minutes to them, but they look and now it’s time for Yoongi to return to the office for his scheduled recording session. It’s hard for them to let each other go. They stand in front of the restaurant lingering a moment trying to find the courage to leave.
“I’ll try to stay up for you,” Hyeri says.
“Hopefully we can make it quick. I’ll come straight home once I’m done.” He reaches for her hand out of habit briefly forgetting that they’re out on the street. She doesn’t stop him though. She takes his hand for just a brief moment to feel his warmth a second longer, then let’s go.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she smiles. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he smiles.
They both head to their cars and go off their separate ways. They hate to leave after finally getting a moment of togetherness. That only gives Yoongi a much greater sense of urgency the rest of the evening.
When he returns to the studio it’s clear to everyone he’s trying to get things done quickly. He has no time for small talk or getting off track with mindless conversations. The sooner this is done the better.
“Hyung,” Jimin says exiting the recording booth. “Take it easy. Why are you in such a hurry?”
“She’s waiting for me,” Yoongi says with no further explanation.
“Ah,” Jimin nods. He knows exactly what Yoongi means. He knows what Hyeri means to Yoongi so he doesn’t need any further explanation. “Get in there and finish up then.”
Before Yoongi, Jimin is the last one to finish recording. Now that he’s done he switches places with Yoongi to help things move along faster. Jimin doesn’t mind staying a bit later so Yoongi can get home. It takes a little longer than Yoongi would like, but he finally finishes and rushes off to go home without giving Jimin a second look. Jimin follows him out and simply laughs to himself at how flustered his hyung is. He knows Yoongi is in deep.
Yoongi returns home at 1am hoping Hyeri is still awake. When he steps inside all of the lights are off and he fears he may be too late. That is, until he reaches the bedroom and he can hear the shower running.
Hyeri had just gotten in the shower after finishing a late meal. She was fighting her sleep in hopes that Yoongi would be home soon. She decided to hop in the shower in an attempt to stay awake just a little longer.
She leans her head back and closes her eyes as the water runs through her hair and down her back. The warm water is relaxing so she stands there not moving for a few moments. She takes a deep breath and just then she can feel a hand on her waist.
She opens her eyes to see Yoongi entering the shower and pulling her close to his bare body. She isn’t sure how he managed to get home and get undressed without her hearing a thing, but it doesn’t matter. She instantly wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss.
“I’m so glad you’re still awake,” Yoongi says in a low tone. “I feel like I haven’t gotten to hold you in way too long.”
“I know,” she says kissing him again. “I never knew I could miss you so much when we live together.”
He feels the same but rather than saying so, he pulls her in tighter for a heavier kiss. His hands trace every wet part of her body until he reaches between her legs and softly teases her clit. He lives for the breathy moan she lets out at the feeling of him. The sound he’s missed, the feel he’s missed, the taste he’s missed. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.
He continues kissing her, slipping his tongue into her mouth and swallowing every sound of hers until he presses her back against the shower wall. His level of arousal is almost unbearable in this moment. So many missed connections and lonely nights are overflowing and poking her pelvis in the process.
“I love you so much, Bow,” he growls lifting her leg and wrapping it around his waist.
“I love you too, baby,” she whispers anticipating his entry that is much desired.
He presses her into the wall harder and takes his tongue on a tour of her neck and chest until he reaches her tits. He loves to see her like this. Melting in his arms and breathing heavily for what he’s about to give her.
He fills her up slowly sending waves of heat through her body until he can’t go any further. He pauses in place and stares her down. He could die in her big brown eyes that are staring up at him with lustful anticipation.
He starts slowly. Easing in and out of her delicately as if she were made of porcelain. In his mind she is. Right now, she’s his beautiful porcelain doll that he’ll never break.
“You feel so good,” he whispers taking her lips again.
She tightens her hold around his neck and arches her back pressing her chest into him more. It’s her silent way of telling him she wants it faster and harder. She wants his love to break her.
He takes the hint and picks up speed while pressing her harder against the shower wall. Her unsteady breaths fuel his powerful strokes more and more. Her moans sing a song that he’ll never get tired of. He can feel that overwhelming pressure within him getting closer to exploding out of every part of him.
The way her nails dig into the back of his neck lets him know she’s just about to lose it. He’s just about to lose it. Her pussy tightens around him sucking his oxygen out.
He growls at her, becoming more relentless and desperate with each stroke.
“I love you so fucking much,” she pants.
The rhythm of his hips sends her over the moon. Her nails dig deeper into his skin as she searches for some bit of stability. He lets out a deep purr when his muscles start to tense and his vision begins to fade.
“I love you,” she repeats kissing his neck. She continues to hang on to him until his hips slow to a stop and his purrs decrease to heavy breaths.
“I love you too, Hyeri,” he says once he has his voice back.
He slides out of her and kisses her softly. She lowers her leg from around his waist and smiles up at him.
“I don’t think I’ll have trouble falling asleep tonight,” she says.
“Good,” he says nipping at her bottom lip. “You only have about three hours before you have to leave.”
“Perfect,” she sarcastically huffs dreading her very early call time that she could have been well rested for had she not stayed up waiting for Yoongi. “I guess I should get to bed then.”
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