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In between the pages of you | MIN YOONGI X BLK FEM READER (COMING SOON)
summary: Yoongi ends up falling in with you while reading the pages of your journal you lost.
genre: fluff, angst, humor, and romance.
a/n: first off I never really thanked my friend @honeysuckledrop for always reading and listening to me talk about my stories. You're the best!
Yoongi fell in love with you. A girl he had never even met before. Knew everything that you were made up of within 96 pages of a worn red journal with a nirvana sticker on front, with coffee and tea-stained pages that also smelled of lilacs and summer.
CHAPTER ONE POSTED HERE
if you would like to be added to the taglist let me know. 😭
In between the pages of you | YOONGI X BLK FEM READER
summary: Yoongi fell in love with you. A girl he had never even met before. Knew everything that you were made up of within 96 pages of a worn red journal with a nirvana sticker on front, with coffee and tea-stained pages that also smelled of lilacs and summer.
genre: fluff, angst, humor, and romance.
a/n: I made a playlist for this fic if you want to check it out :). sorry for any mistakes in the fics.
CHAPTER 2 here
Chapter One: The Red Journal
It's only 2:15 in the morning. Yoongi sat in his usual spot in the back of the ramen shop eating his usual order of creamy pork belly shin. The crispy pork had a nice crunch, and the broth warmed his chest and stomach in the cold winter month of December.
The little ramen shop wasn't busy, just the same faces Yoongi had seen when he came here when he hit a mental creative block in his music writing. Oftentimes times Yoongi would people-watch, taking in insignificant details of the other customers he could somehow use in his music.
Like the old man with ink-stained fingers, Yoongi wonders if the old man is a kind of comic creator.
Then there was the young man slurping down his noodles as he studied for some kind of test.
Yoongi noticed a red journal sitting in the center of a table a few feet away from him. He looked around to see if the owner of it was anywhere. No one was at the serving counter or at the tea machine. The little ramen shop didn't have restrooms, so you had to use the restroom at the 7-Eleven across the street. So he thought maybe the owner could be there.
By the time Yoongi was done eating, he paid for his meal at the serving counter and bought a strawberry mochi ice cream. He walked by the table with the red Journal; he stood there for a moment staring at it. The owner never came for it.
So Yoongi took it to the serving counter.
“Someone left their journal here,” Yoongi said to the cook.
The middle-aged man looked at the journal and then at Yoongi.
“Okay?”
“Do you have a lost and found?”
“Does it look like I have one?”
“Can I leave it here in case the owner returns?”
“It'll get thrown out with the trash.”
Yoongi put the red journal in his messenger bag. He gave a tight lip smile to the cook and left.
The red Journal sat in front of him on his desk. He stared at the Nirvana sticker on the cover. He opened the journal to see if there was information so he could return it to the owner.
Yoongi reads the pretty handwriting, and the name written inside Y/N with hearts drawn around your name. There was no other information, so he flipped to the first page.
There's a faint hint of coffee that hits his nose and a coffee ring in the upper corner of the page with a movie ticket taped down from some French movie you saw back in July.
Yoongi read the first page of your journal. At first, he thought it would be crossing into someone else private life: what if there's some really deep personal shit here?
But Yoongi was a little nosey about who you, Y/n, might be.
June 1, 2023
I and my friend Namjoon ate at this Chinese restaurant above my apartment building. It's a small little one run by a husband and wife. I had sweet and sour pork with steaming white rice and Namjoon had Wonton soup. Namjoon thinks it's a little childish that I made a wish on my rice. I never told Namjoon this was something I always did with my grandma. She'll cook some rice for us on my birthdays, sprinkling a little sugar and adding some butter, before digging in we made a wish on the rice. I know it's nothing special to some people, but for me, brief memories like that with my grandma felt like hot chicken noodle soup on a bitter winter day warming your insides. So yeah, I'll continue wishing on bowls of rice, just to keep that memory of my grandma alive when she wasn't.
Yoongi's fingers trailed over each sentence until he was at the end where he saw a little chibi drawing at the bottom of the page with two people, a younger girl and an elderly woman with bowls of rice in front of them and scribbled above their heads read: Granny and Me.
His chest tightened a bit, and he batted his eyes to keep the tears away. It reminds him of him and his grandpa when Yoongi was a small boy, they would always go fishing, and Yoongi and his grandpa would wish on dragonflies so they could catch the biggest fish. They never did though and it never disappointed Yoongi when he caught something even smaller, it was the moments he spent with his grandpa that made these little memories special.
So Yoongi could understand you, wanting to keep that part of your grandma alive.
All he can do is try to imagine what your smile must have been like when a bowl of hot rice was placed in front of you, did you close your eyes? Or did you thank whatever God you believed in, if you even believed in one?
He was curious about how many wishes you made over the years, what you wished for, and did any of them ever come true?
Only from the first page of your journal Yoongi could tell you were someone with a pure heart.
Maybe you saw the world a little differently, like a child did when they first become curious about the world around them.
Maybe you were nice. Maybe you weren't nice enough. Maybe you smiled too much. Maybe you smiled too little. Maybe you cried easily when someone slightly raised their voice to you. Maybe you didn't cry at all.
A lot of maybes Yoongi thought about. Just a couple hundred words that Yoongi read he wanted to know who you were as a person. That all the maybes he had could be answered.
He flipped through the pages of your journal, just scanning over the pages. Some pages were torn out, with scraps of paper left behind from where you ripped them out.
Yoongi counted 96 pages with pieces of you scattered throughout the stained pages, folded corners, pretty handwriting, and every page smelled of lilacs.
a/n: the idea for this was random because I wanted to buy a journal and I'm like, what if there was a story about a journal and two people? I asked my friend who it should be about. It was either between Namjoon and Yoongi. And Yoongi made it. I may or may not do a Namjoon version. 😭
For a good portion of the story, we only will see Y/n through her journal and how Yoongi may see her.
Taglist: @kingofbodyrolls @illnevertrustmyselfagain @lachibolalasstuff @tarahardcore @itsshaydeekaydee @iluvkyo
If you would like to be added to the taglist for future chapters, let me know :)
In between the pages of you | Yoongi x blk fem reader
Chapter one
NOT PROOF READ
Chapter 2: Yoongi's Reflections
Yoongi stands in the small ramen shop, the clock ticking past 2 AM, and the warm aroma of broth envelops him like a familiar embrace. The usual clamor of late-night diners is absent, leaving only the soft hum of the kitchen and the faint sound of water boiling. The steam from the pots blurs the edges of his vision, creating a hazy dreamscape that mirrors the thoughts swirling in his mind.
Instead of the savory ramen that usually draws him here, a steaming bowl of rice sits in front of him. Its surface glistens under the dim light, the sprinkle of butter and sugar melting slowly, creating a pool of warmth. Yoongi remember from your last journal entry how you made a wish on a bowl of rice and he wanted to do the same, maybe find hope in a wish on a bowl of rice, that old him would have thought was foolish.
Yoongi read another journal entry of yours during the day, the page dog-eared and stained with splatters of soy sauce. From reading most of the entries you wrote, Yoongi found that your journal was your solace, a window into the heart of a stranger who seemed to understand the unspoken parts of you.
Your entry lingered on his mind as he flipped it open once more, the black Indian ink almost shimmering with meaning:
"June 10th, 2023. I still go to the little ramen shop tucked away between the Chinese restaurant and dry cleaners. Part of me wanted to find myself in the broth of the beef ramen and the fried dumplings. Part of me wanted to leave herself at table two. There was this want who wanted to find a part of me who I lost and there was this want who wanted to leave herself somewhere that years from now she can come back to and remember something about herself and the way it felt. Hmm, maybe that's why I started this journal too."
Yoongi read the words over and over, each pass striking a chord deep within him, reverberating through his chest. The weight of your introspection resonates, and he finds himself caught in the delicate balance of connection and solitude. It’s as if you laid bare the very essence of your own struggles—the desire to be found while fearing the vulnerability that comes with it.
Yoongi let his gaze drift toward the door, the familiar creak of the wood echoing in his mind. You could walk through those doors at any moment, and despite not knowing what you looked like, Yoongi felt a magnetic pull toward your essence. A belief that he would recognize you instantly, not by features but by a shared understanding.
With a sigh, Yoongi closes your journal, his fingers lingering on the frayed edges. It’s a talisman of hope, a reminder that there are others navigating the same shadows, searching for themselves in the folds of life.
Yoongi stir the rice absently, watching the butter swirl and melt, each movement drawing him deeper into your thoughts. What would he wish for if he could release a desire into this bowl? Would it be for clarity, for the courage to uncover the parts of him that remain hidden?
The door creaks open, a gust of warm night air blows through the small shop, and Yoongi's heart races. He looks up, breath hitching, but it’s just a couple of drunk patrons stumbling in for their midnight fix. Disappointment settles in his chest, but he shake it off.
As the clamor of their laughter fades into the background, Yoongi focuses back on the rice before him. Perhaps, like you, Yoongi too was leaving a piece of himself in this bowl—an offering to the universe, a small hope tucked away to be rediscovered later.
Yoongi picks up his spoon and takes a bite, the taste comforting, yet laced with that familiar sense of yearning. With each mouthful, he feels the warmth of possibility swirling within him, the kind that makes you believe that one day, perhaps soon, you’ll find your way back to the parts of you that have been lost.
And maybe, just maybe, he’ll find you waiting at the same table.
Author's Note: Wow, I finally updated this story after so long. I was debating whether I should continue with this little series or not. But like most authors, I have self-doubt and worry about my writing. But anyway I hope everyone enjoys it :)