Yoongi X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Good start, I'd like to read more of it 😁

let the light in

summary: in which you’re a famous children’s book writer, one evening after coming home from a diner with your parents you find seven unknown hybrids making themselves comfortable in your living room, what do you do now?

pairing: hybrid!bts x f!reader

warning: hybrid!bts. lots of fluff. one shots on this cute relationship <3. you can request for this story !!! suggestive but no smut - wolf!namjoon, winter bear!seokjin, black cat!yoongi, golden retriever!hoseok, red panda!jimin, giant panda!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

notes: likes comments and reposts are appreciated . title is inspired by lana’s “let the light in”

001 , BREAKING AND ENTERING | in which you come home to seven hybrids in your living room. fluff, comedy

002 , NEW LIFE | in which you have to get used to your new life, with seven hybrid roommates. fluff (coming soon)

003 , …

I know this fic on on hiatus but I just wanted to say that ot was really good 😁😄

number neighbor masterlist

Genre: Social media AU, fluff, crack, mild angst

Pairing: idol! Yoongi x music student! Reader

Status: Ongoing

Updates: ON HIATUS INDEFINITELY  

You decide to text your number neighbor when you’re bored at work. Who would have guessed that your neighbor would be kind of prickly and highly secretive? And that you’d like to mess with him? Yoongi, meanwhile, doesn’t know what a “number neighbor” is, but he does know that you make him laugh, so he supposes he’ll allow it. For now.

📱 profiles pt. 1

📱 profiles pt. 2

📱 part one: low-budget horror movie

📱 part two: classified information

📱 part three: i smell drama

📱 part four: dick willy johnson

📱 part five: good-natured insulting

📱 part six: dicks everywhere

📱 part seven: the bar is so low

📱 part eight: good oral hygiene

📱 part nine: third degree face burns

📱 part ten: vibrating with excitement 

Hello, I'm herr again to ask for your help !

Do you know some BTS x Reader (poly x reader// one/any member x reader ) with the "reader is a youtuber, a vlogger, a blogger, work on social media..." can be oneshot or Series, van be social media au or not, can be smut/fluff.

Thanks again for your help 😁

That was so amazing !!

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7xReader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:   The one where, after living abroad for years, you move back to Korea and your old high school friend Namjoon offers you his place to stay while you get settled, casually forgetting to mention that: a) he still had a massive crush on you. b) he lived with six other guys.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, College AU, angst if you squint.

°•. 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕  .•°

Part one - Reunion

Part two - Rain

Part three - Salty

Part four - Second

Part five - Crush

Part six - Trap

Part seven - Touch

Part eight - Promise

Part nine - Never

Part ten - Priority

Part eleven - Coffee

°•. ✿ .•°

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi <3)

Hello to you all !!

I've read and still read a lot of fics on different platform (tumblr, AO3, WATTPAD, quotev...) and wonder if I could write some myself. I'd like to start with some BTS reactions first to see if I'm good enough 😄.

That's why if you have some ideas, suggestions or Request that I could write about, I'm all ears.

Thanks in advance for those who would take time in reading and answering this.

Hello to you all !!

I've read and still read a lot of fics on different platform (tumblr, AO3, WATTPAD, quotev...) and wonder if I could write some myself. I'd like to start with some BTS reactions first to see if I'm good enough 😄.

That's why if you have some ideas, suggestions or Request that I could write about, I'm all ears.

Thanks in advance for those who would take time in reading and answering this.

BTS's fics/reaction I should write (Part 1)

@shakespeare-in-the-park7 @cutysexylovelyarmy @yourmagnanimousholiness @persnyako @jimintaemin @duckandrobin @itsgettingweirds-blog @mrowphine @fyrreflyy @daichiduskdrop @lilientulpe @strawblueberrys @jinniejax @btsfluffsworld @stellauniverse

BTS's fics/reaction I should write (Part 2)

@shakespeare-in-the-park7 @cutysexylovelyarmy @yourmagnanimousholiness @persnyako @jimintaemin @duckandrobin @itsgettingweirds-blog @mrowphine @fyrreflyy @daichiduskdrop @lilientulpe @strawblueberrys @jinniejax @btsfluffsworld @stellauniverse

That is amazing, I love it !!

i wanna be yours — masterlist

summary: in which bts find themselves completely and utterly infatuated with one of the members of hybe's newest girl group, le sserafim

warnings: age gap (5-10 year age gap), oc is of consenting and legal age, yandere bts, unhealthy, possessive, and obsessive behavior, violence, smut, idol au

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

pairings: ot7 x f. reader

table of contents

01 ✰ 02 ✰ 03 ✰ 04 ✰ 05 ✰ 06 ✰ 07

Amazing !!

Lost in the lights | OT7 | Master list

Pairing: OT7 x Female Reader 

Summary: Idol!BTS falls for spoiled brat reader who’s just looking for some fun! Can all 7 of them win her heart and make her theres and theres alone? 

Genre:  Idol! BTS social media/sociallite reader. Modern day. No covid

Status: Ongoing 

Content warnings: Light smut, swearing, BTS are men and sometimes men are dumb as hell. That B!tch reader. Mild angst. Swearing, lots of casual sex. possesive (?) bts. Unlikely to be member on member action but never say never.

Chapters: 

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The Apartment Games | Series Masterlist

pairing: ot7 x f!reader (platonic?)

genre: crack, humour, smau

warnings/tags: non-idol!au, college!au, roommates!au, player!taehyung, literature student!namjoon, fashion student!hobi, comp-sci student!jin, music student!jungkook, sound production student!yoongi, business student!taehyung, veterinary student!jimin, communications student!yn, more warnings in individual parts

disclaimer: this smau crack fic is just for fun (that said, i’m probably going to put in way more time and effort than warranted) and since this is a wip, everything here is pretty much subject to change. also don’t ask me how the age differences work, there were No Thoughts

summary: when y/n’s roommate moves out, an opening at the nicest apartment complex on campus becomes available – and highly coveted within the crowded bangtan dorm. with seven chances to prove who can be the best roommate, the boys are prepared to do just about anything for some privacy and freedom. and y/n certainly intends to make the most of that desperation willingness. welcome to the apartment games.

if you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me ☕

index

>. character profiles

i. the end of an era pt.1

ii. the end of an era pt.2

iii. the list

iv. ground rules

v. anonymous suga® daddy

vi. behind the scenes

vii. tae has entered the chat

viii. bust a tear duct

Fangirl pt. 1

INITIALLY POSTED ON MY FORMER PAGE: bts-teaspoonff

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Idol A/U

Pairing: BTS OT7 x reader

Rating: PG

Summary: Y/N, being a huge fangirl, finally got her chance to work alongside her favorite idol group as a backup dancer. She gets to know each member personally and realizes that her feelings may be more than fangirl-idol attraction.

Word Count: 3K

PARTS: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | …. masterlist

“It’s finally here!” I shouted as I bolted from my room towards the front door to greet the delivery man carrying my package. Even without looking at the mirror, I could feel my smile going up to my ears and my heartbeat furiously echoing through my chest. The delivery man handed me a medium sized box and stared at me as I reach out for the box with a huge smile plastered on my face. I signed the delivery form, closed the door and ran back inside my unit.

I ran to the living room and placed the box on the floor. I turned to my left and hurriedly rummaged for my cutter inside the drawer beside the sofa. I also took my phone on top of the said drawer and placed it on my lap. I swiftly sat down on the floor in front of my package with the cutter ready in my hand when I remembered something. I unlocked my phone and proceeded to video call my brother who’s at work. My brother’s name and his photo appeared on the screen as I wait for him to answer the call.

“Hey Y/N…” His face popped up on my screen. I silently giggled at the angle of his front camera when he answered the call. Not really flattering despite him being good looking. He must have placed the phone on a table directly below his face. “You know I’m at work right? Why did you call? Emergency?” I could hear keyboard sounds in the background. He must be busy typing on the computer as he didn’t bat an eye on his phone while talking to me.

“Yeah I know. I just wanted to share some good news” My camera is facing towards me with just my eyes peeking through screen. I was worried that maybe he’s with some people at work that might see me when he answers the video call and I’m not decent looking right now. “My package has arrived!” I low-key squealed as I pressed the ‘rotate camera’ button on the screen and directed the camera at the package. I could see my brother looking now at the phone. He placed his phone in front of him and leaned it on a stable surface for him to see me properly. He continued to type slowly on his keyboard as he steal glances on his phone screen.

“Don’t tell me…. You bought another merch?” He giggled as he looked at his phone screen and continued to type on his keyboard. He looked back at his computer screen after a second, with a smile on his face. I opened the package with my cutter on one hand and my phone on the other. Tearing through the tape, I can’t contain my excitement as i shrieked when my cutter got through the end of the tape. I released the cutter from my hand and pushed it aside.

“BTS Merch! Oh my god, I have been waiting for these for weeks. I got the latest album, more Tiny Tan figurines, and some concert goods from last tour.” I proceeded to open the box and showed my brother the contents. I felt accomplishment as I look at all the merchandise that has just arrived at home. My ARMY heart couldn’t contain the joy that I have right now. I shot my eyes back on the phone screen and saw my brother smiling as he looked at me through the phone screen.

“Hey, I’m happy you are happy but you know I work in Big Hit right? I work for them?” He stopped typing, took the phone back in his hands and brought the phone close to his face. “I could just easily buy these things for you with my employee discount.” And now his whole face is occupying my phone screen. 

“Jiyong, I know but where’s the fun in that? I want to buy these items using my own money. Well, an employee discount is nice but I don’t want to abuse your privilege as I buy too much of their merchandise.” I snorted at the fact that I really do buy too much of their merchandise. Besides, when I use his employee discount, the items are delivered directly to him as he works inside the Big Hit Building. With the amount of merchandise that I buy, I don’t want to embarrass him and label him as a big fanboy especially with him working so close to the boys.

“If you weren’t my twin sister, I would totally laugh at you. Not that I think you’re crazy but you’re…. loyal” He puts emphasis on the last word. He respects my deep profound respect for the 7 boys but he thinks that maybe I have gone too far with the purchases. He placed his phone back in front of him, leaning on a surface. “Oh before I forget, did you read my email?” I was taken aback with topic change but I’m used to it as he does this all the time. I pressed the ‘rotate camera’ button once again for him to see my face. 

“No, I haven’t opened my email yet. I went home so late last night. My last client in the gym arrived late so we finished late as well. A bummer.” I scoffed as I remembered the fatigue that enveloped my body yesterday. I work as a gym trainer/physical therapist full time and a dance teacher/choreographer as my sideline. I work at my friend’s gym located in the heart of Seoul as a gym trainer. I currently handle 7 clients, some who I have worked with for a few years already. I also teach dance classes at a small dance studio just a few blocks from where I live. Mainly, I handle BTS dance classes because duh, I am a full-blooded ARMY. I really tried to make my passion as a source of income and it warms my heart to see people having fun when I teach them those dances.

“Check it. Anyways, I gotta go. I still have a lot to do. As you know, the company is busy since BTS will be releasing another album sometime this year.” My brother currently works as a Recording Engineer in Big Hit. He used to brag to me that he’ll spend hours with BTS and TXT. I was jealous of course but I am so proud he’s working for them. Whenever I listen to songs from Big Hit artists, I try to think that he has contributed to a lot of songs despite not knowing what exact songs he has worked on. Another reason why I listen and support them.

We both said our farewells and dropped the call. As I took out all the contents of the package unto the floor, I used my phone on the other hand. I opened my mail and saw few unread emails. Some of them were from my subscriptions on Netflix and Spotify, which I barely read. On top of the list was my brother’s mail. I saw the subject “READ THIS FANGIRL!” and I laughed. Here I thought he sent me something urgent or important that needs my utmost attention. Must be another event or merchandise that they’ve yet to announce to the public.

I opened the mail and my eyes were glued to the first line of the message body.

“Big Hit is hiring backup dancers. See the forwarded email below, sis. I think they’re meaning to assign whoever they’ll hire as part of BTS dance team.” Did I just receive this email? It came from my brother so it must be true. He won’t prank me like that. If I apply, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be hired right? That’s too bad if I won’t be hired but there’s nothing to lose if I try to apply.

I left my package scattered throughout my floor and ran towards my laptop lying on my bed. I sat down on the floor beside my bed and opened my laptop. I felt like a kid but here I am, rushing to find my resume to apply for a new job that might eventually change my life.

….

It’s been a week since I applied as a backup dancer for Big Hit. I sent in my resume and a few videos of me dancing to some of their artists’ songs. I’m lucky to have known a lot of BTS’ songs and choreographies by heart and I might have tried to study some of their label mates’ songs as well. I haven’t received a reply back from them and I’m worried that I may not receive any response ever.

Apparently, BTS is known for having only male backup dancers as far as I know so it’s news to me that they’re hiring female backup dancers now. It got me thinking that this might also attract fellow fangirls like me to apply but knowing Big Hit, they wouldn’t want anything scandalous to happen just because they hired female backup dancers. I’m not saying that female dancers lack professionalism but how the boys are the top rank boy group in the country, female fans would be green with jealousy if they see female dancers dancing with them. Some Armies are really protective when it comes to the boys so it’s really shocking to hear that the company is finally considering this. 

The day that I got the mail from my brother, I spent half of my day planning what dances to shoot and submit. I chose BTS’ Idol and Singularity, TXT’s Crown and a freestyle dance to Beyonce’s Yonce. I wanted to showcase my range in dancing by carefully choosing a variety of songs. I admit that the reason I may have applied to this job is partly because I’m a fangirl but nonetheless, my passion for dancing is bigger. I have been dancing since I was a kid but I was not this confident at the start. It’s hard to convince me to perform in front of a bigger audience, let alone a stadium full of fans. I slowly got over my fear little by little when I started teaching dance classes at the dance studio. The fear is still there and you may wonder why I am applying for this job when I’m scared shit in performing for a large audience. BTS taught me to love myself and I am really trying my best to go out of my comfort zone. I figured that this may be my best chance in doing so. Also, I get the benefit of working alongside them which is a big plus.

I couldn’t really focus on my job for the whole week. I find myself regularly checking my mail in the hopes of getting a response from Big Hit. 5 days and there’s still no mail. Maybe my email just went to their spam folder or maybe I typed in the wrong mail. On the 7th day while I was pulling out my clothes in the dryer, I heard a ping from my phone from across the hall. I left my phone on my bed and the laundry room is right beside my room. I noticed that the ping was my assigned tone for mails. I hurriedly took out all my warm dry clothes and unto the basket, closed the door of the dryer and turned the lights off in the laundry room.

“New Mail. Subject: Dance Team Application” I saw the notification banner and my heart just jumped out of my chest. I felt my forehead sweating profusely, fingers shaking and my throat closing up as I try to open my phone and check my mail. I silently and swiftly read the contents of the mail. After two seconds, I shrieked at the top of my lungs and threw my phone across my bed. I ran out of my room and in circles around the living room. Good thing I live alone so that I could just celebrate and make loud noises like this. I jumped up and down on the sofa while etching the image of the mail into my head. I buried my head on my pillows and shouted once more, emptying all the air out of my lungs.

I ran back into my room and read the mail again. 

“Good day, Miss Y/N.

We have received your application and we are glad to say that we are impressed with your resume and skillset. We would like you to come in our office tomorrow so we can meet and talk personally with our dance team. We are glad to have you join our current dance team. Details of our meeting are expressed below.

Time: 10 am

Address: 42 Teheran-ro 108-gil, Daechi-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul, South Korea

Attire: Comfortable Casual

Please look for Mina at the front desk to escort you. Thank you.”

I still can’t believe what I’m seeing. Did I just got accepted? As a backup dancer? For Big Hit? Maybe for BTS? I’m such a lucky fangirl. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

….

It’s a good thing that my schedule is free today. I don’t have any clients in the gym scheduled for today and the dance studio is closed for today. I was so nervous and excited at the same time. I woke up at 6 am as I feel my jitters bothering my sleep. I tried to go back to sleep but I trashed the bed and rolled side to side for about 30 mins so I decided to go for a run. I turned on my Spotify and played my ‘Intense Run Playlist’ which mostly consists of high bpm BTS songs. There’s a jogging path near where I live and the scenery is filled with trees. Very calming, which I really need right now.

I arrived in front of the Big Hit Building around 8:30 am. I made sure to arrive early as I don’t want to be late for the meeting. I’m so anxious right now if I’m allowed to go up as early as 9 am or should I just arrived on time. I lingered outside and paced back and forth at a nearby shade. I wondered if I could visit my brother and stay with him for the mean time.

“Is she a stalker?” I heard whispers coming from my right as I slumped back at the pole where I’m taking shade just across the building. “That’s scary.” Three schoolgirls were standing a few meters away from me. They were staring and smirking at me. I wondered why they would think of me as such then I realized that I wore my hoodie up to cover half of my face.

“I’m not…”

“Good luck stalker-nim. You won’t get a glimpse of the boys.” They giggled and ogled me with judgmental looks with their arms across the chests. “Can you get away from the boys? We don’t want stalker armies like you.”

“As I said, I’m not a stalker and I’m older than you. Why are you talking to me in an informal tone?” I pull my hoodie off my head and slowly tread towards them. They laughed and ran away at the sight of me making my way to them. Sheesh, do I really look like a stalker?

I looked at my watch and it’s still 9:10 am. I guess I could try and visit my brother. The fresh morning air blew gently in my face, as if to welcome me, and be my merry playmate, and the sun looked at me with a warm and tender smile. What a nice start to my day, I thought. I put up my hoodie again and I was comfortable once more with the warmth my mere hoodie gave me.

“I have a meeting in your building today. Do you want to meet up? I’m not due until 10 am. – your adorable look alike” I texted my brother and inserted my phone back in my pocket. I breathed in the fresh breeze and not a second later, my phone pinged. I pulled out my phone to see my brother’s name on the screen.

“Lucky, I’m on a coffee break. I’ll be down in a sec.” he replied. A grin was present on my face as I stood up from where I was leaning. I skipped from across the street towards the building. I looked above at the sky and towards the top of the Big Hit Building and when I returned my gaze back in front of me, I was met by a dark haired man in his mid-twenties. I bumped into him and was knocked down at the side of the street. I exclaimed in pain as I rub my backside.

“Hey look where you’re go…” I looked up and immediately recognized the face. The man was wearing a grey Fear of God shirt paired with black baggy pants. His face was half covered by a black mask and his hair was kept away from his face with a black headband almost occupying his whole forehead. 

“You should be the one watching you’re going. Crossing the street while prancing around like that.” He scoffed and continued to make his way towards the building. He didn’t even help me up. I sneered back.

“I’m sorry. I assure you that he’s not usually like this. He’s in a bad mood.” Two hands were suddenly around my elbows, propping me up from the ground. I turned my head and saw a woman around mid-twenties as well. She was carrying an opened big black bag propped on her right shoulder with filled with piles of unruly papers stuck inside. When I finally was able to stand up properly, she took off her hands from me and bowed in apology. She swiftly followed the man and shouted, “Yoongi, wait. I can explain.” 

So I was right. It was Suga. All the images of a funny and loving Min Yoongi ran through my mind. Just like a scary movie, it was replaced by a disgusted look he shot at me a while ago. Did he…. Maybe he thought I was a stalker or something? I guess if I really looked like one then I don’t blame him for shooting those looks at me. However, a decent person would help anyone up in that situation.

I beat the dust off my hoodie and slowly treaded towards the building’s entrance. Not a really good way to start my first interaction with anyone from BTS, I thought.

Next part: 2

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

• type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly) • genre: (ex) idol! au, roommate au, soulmate au, slice of life, fluff, crack treated seriously (?), angst, slow burn like an elderly dog with a limp slow, lack of communication • rating: mature • status: ongoing

#1 Wacky Wednesday

#2 Tenebrous Thursday

#3 Solicitous Saturday

↪ #3.5 Jin Ponders the Meaning of Time over a Pot of Soup

#4 Munificent Monday

#5 Tiresome Tuesday

#6 Surreal Sunday

↪ #6.5 Namjoon Discovers the Definition of Love (His Own)

#7 Tender Tuesday(s)

#8 Furious Friday

#9 The Last Step Towards You

↪ #9.5 Jimin’s History of Having Bad Birthdays

#10 The Getaway Ploy

#11 Sh*t, again

#12 A New Slate

↪ #12.5 Jungkook and the Meaning of “Oh”

#13 Few Rights, Lots of Wrongs

#14 Helping Matters

#15 On Middle Grounds

↪ #15.5 134340 (slowed)

#16 Hello. Goodbye.

The End.

© sor-vette, 2021 - 2022

ESCAPE (Teaser)

March 21st 2021 02:27AM

“Y/N, today was just not your day…” you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes to relieve the sting caused by a severe lack of sleep, your shoulders gradually sinking further down as you sigh deeply…

You slowly open your eyes, not really focusing on anything in particular, only faintly aware of the sounds of the inky waves gently crashing onto the shore line at this ungodly hour. The beach used to be your happy place. No matter what was happening in your life, be it good or bad, just sitting on the shore line and looking out at the ocean has always calmed your soul. The back and forth motions of the waters, the sound of the waves overlapping onto the sand, the slightly salty smell that lingers in the quiet breeze… It was your own little piece of heaven.

Also, it was free.

Having the beach nearby is just about the only good thing about this crappy little town.

Being born into a family that was just above the poverty line, you had to learn quickly that you were not afforded the same opportunities as others, that nothing in life came easy and that you had to fight to survive and earn your place in this world.

That’s exactly what you were trying to do, earn your little place in this world, before your entire life got turned upside down.

When you got off the bus with your suitcase and duffel bag 2 weeks ago, you knew that this was going to be difficult. After everything that you did to leave this town behind you, you were somehow back to square one.

“Finish high school, find a job, work hard, make some money and get the hell outta this place!!!” That’s what you told yourself daily, like a mantra, from the age of about 10 right up until you left this town the year you turned 18 and graduated, 7 years ago… You thought that once you left here, you’d never return… There was nothing for you in this town, so why did you choose to come back here, of all places?

Another sad sigh escapes your lips as your hands which are buried in the pocket of your hoodie instinctively spreads over your swollen belly…

“Because…” you say softly into the night breeze as the tears that you’ve been holding in for the last 6 months finally roll down your face, “this is the one place that he will never come looking for us…”

POV

Imagine as you lay across his lap, he breathes hums of your favorite song that he memorized just for you.

Imagine as your vision blurs because he’s such a pretty sight to fall asleep to.

Imagine as a warm smile spreads across your face and you whisper your love to him because he has to know.

You don’t know why the urgency of your feelings is there but the warmth of his hand sweeping your hair across your cheek is enough to halt any thoughts. 

Imagine as his eyes grow teary because he loves you so deeply and he cannot picture life without you.

Imagine as he places a shiny ring on your finger because he never plans on leaving your side. 

Imagine as you smile warmly up at him and whisper ‘yes’ before you fall asleep to his gentle humming.

Imagine being in love.

Now imagine his point of view.

Imagine as he cradles your head with gentle hands like he's carrying glass.

Imagine him trying to steady his breathes long enough to hum your song because you look so confused and he just wants to settle your mind. 

Imagine he watches your eyes glaze over and his body strains to hold his weight and your own without breaking.

Imagine him glancing away to wipe his tears because your smile is slowly tearing him apart and you whispering your love is the same as whispering goodbye.

Imagine his eyes growing teary because you’re getting colder and colder and he can’t do anything to stop the slowing of your heart.

Imagine him placing a shaky hand on your cheek to ground himself and hold you one last time.

Imagine as he slides a ring onto your finger, the ring he was supposed to propose with tonight at your birthday, the ring that promises you'll be with each other until the end.

Imagine as sobs heave through him and he struggles to continue humming your song as you whisper ‘yes’, because he finally has his answer but this isn’t how he wanted it.

Imagine as his scream rips through the air when your eyes close.

Imagine being in love until death do you part.

Imagine breaking his heart.

Oh this was freaking good! The sexual tension when they kissed *chefs kiss*

Everything You Need Is Right Here

Pairing : Yoongi x female reader

Summary : Yoongi always the knight in shining armour, always there when you need him.

Genre : Friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, mentions of alcohol, MDNI

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the BTS members.

You slid into the passenger seat, fingers trembling as they struggled with the seatbelt. The smooth click of the buckle should’ve been satisfying, but the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin swallowed any sense of accomplishment.

"Thanks for coming with me," you murmured, sneaking a glance at Yoongi. Your voice wavered, barely audible over the car's steady hum. Your fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on your thigh, a habit you couldn't quite shake.

Yoongi's eyes flicked to you, amusement curving his lips, but concern lingered in his gaze. "You think I'd let you meet a stranger alone?"

His tone was light, but the protective edge was unmistakable. "You're stuck with me until we know he's not a serial killer."

There was a calm that came with having him by your side. Not that you needed protecting exactly, but there was something comforting about Yoongi’s quiet presence, his steady, no-nonsense way of grounding you without ever making you feel like you needed saving.

Tonight was a big deal. Not life-altering or earth-shattering, but big in the way that stepping into something new always is.

After weeks of chatting with Jihoon, you were finally going to meet him in person.

The texts had flowed easily, his banter sharp, his humour aligning perfectly with yours.

He was the type who seemed confident but not arrogant, the kind of guy who felt safe but with just enough edge to keep things interesting. And yet, meeting in person always added a layer of unpredictability.

As Yoongi pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights blurred by, their glow painting the inside of the car in soft shades of yellow and orange.

You found yourself staring out the window, watching the world rush past in a haze of movement and colour.

The excitement of meeting someone new mingled with the quiet hum of caution, but it didn’t overwhelm you.

It wasn’t the same panicked feeling you used to get with the idea of dating. It was more like…curiosity.

Like stepping into a room you’d never been in before, wondering what might be waiting on the other side of the door.

Your thoughts flickered back to your last relationship, and you felt the familiar pull of old memories, but this time, they didn’t sting the way they used to.

You had already done the hard work of letting that go, of peeling back the layers of hurt and figuring out who you were again without the weight of someone else’s neglect pressing on your shoulders.

He hadn’t been a bad guy. That much you could admit now. But he had been absent in ways that mattered—present physically but never really there.

You could still see him, hunched over his computer, lost in his own world, while you waited for a moment of recognition that never came.

The slow drift of becoming invisible, of watching the person you loved choose distraction over connection, had worn you down over time.

But those days felt distant now, like something you could look at with detachment, the way you’d glance at an old photograph and think, Oh, yeah, I remember that.

And then there was Yoongi. Always Yoongi. He’d been the one to sit with you in the aftermath, his quiet support like a soft anchor, keeping you steady when you thought you might float away.

He never pushed you, never tried to rush you through the healing process. Instead, he was just there, letting you figure things out in your own time.

That’s why tonight felt different. You weren’t going into it looking to fill some void or prove something to yourself.

You’d already done the work. Now, you were just…open. Open to possibility. Open to seeing where things might go.

And so, with a tangled mess of hope and desperation, you did it. You signed up for that dating app, staring at the screen longer than necessary, your finger hesitating above the "submit" button. Were you chasing something real? Maybe.

Or maybe it was just the need to feel something. Anything. A distraction.

A good fuck to remind you that you were still alive, that your heart still beat beneath all that numbness. Jihoon seemed like a good place to start—his profile full of easy charm. Athletic, funny, daring in ways you’d never been.

Yoongi pulled into the car park, the low hum of the engine fading as he cut the ignition.

The silence that followed felt heavy, like it had weight, pressing down on your chest. His eyes turned to you, dark and thoughtful, his fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel before he broke the silence.

“You ready?” His voice was soft but edged with caution, slicing through the haze of your swirling thoughts like a blade.

Your mouth was dry. You nodded, even though you weren't sure if you were convincing either of you. “Yeah,” you managed, though it came out barely a whisper, and you felt the lie of it stick in your throat.

A mix of excitement and dread surged through you in waves, each crashing harder than the last.

Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you, his brow furrowed as if he was searching your face, waiting for you to change your mind.

He always had this way of looking at you, like he saw more than you were willing to show, and it unsettled you sometimes.

When your hand finally moved to the door handle, his eyes flickered, a sigh escaping his lips, almost imperceptible, but you caught it.

The plan was simple. He’d stay back, keep an eye on Jihoon, just in case. A quiet protector from a nearby booth, ready to step in if anything went wrong. It had been his idea when you had told him of your date, and to be honest you felt relief when he did.

You stepped out of the car first, and the cool night air hit you like a splash of cold water, snapping you out of your tangled thoughts, if only for a moment.

You straightened your back, forcing yourself to walk toward the bar, but each step felt heavy, like dragging yourself through mud.

You could feel Yoongi’s presence behind you, the soft sound of his door closing, his footsteps falling in sync with yours. He didn’t say a word, but you felt him.

What you didn't know, was that his eyes roved over your outfit, feeling a tightness in his chest, wishing he was the one taking you on that date. You looked incredible, but you always did. He swallows the feeling back down, concentrating on keeping you safe.

You had taken extra time getting ready tonight, more than you’d like to admit. Your outfit—carefully chosen, your hair—perfectly done.

You wanted to feel confident, wanted to feel like this wasn’t some mistake. But now, walking ahead of Yoongi, all that carefully crafted armour felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

Inside, the bar was alive with noise. The hum of conversation and the clatter of glasses rang out, mixing with the scent of beer and something fried.

You tried to steady your breathing, your fingers brushing against the worn wood of the table as you slid into a booth near the back.

It wasn’t Jihoon's presence you feared—it was the unknown. The vulnerability of sitting there, waiting for someone you barely knew.

You felt exposed, like the anticipation itself was pulling you apart piece by piece.

Yoongi slipped in quietly, taking a seat a few tables away, his back to the wall so he could see everything. His eyes found you, just like they always did.

Even across the room, you felt his attention land on you, a brief moment of connection before he looked away, pretending like he wasn’t watching.

His jaw clenched as he glanced around the bar, and his fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of the table.

You didn't notice the way his eyes kept drifting back to you, the way his chest tightened. He hated it. Hated seeing you like this—nervous, uncertain, waiting for someone else.

But he forced the feeling down, pushed it deep inside where it couldn’t surface. He wasn’t supposed to feel that. He didn’t have the right to, you were just friends, you had never seen him like that.

You smiled nervously at Yoongi across the room, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the menu as the waitress approached. You ordered a drink, your voice a little too bright, a little too eager to fill the silence.

As she walked away, you glanced down at your phone—two minutes until Jihoon was supposed to arrive. The seconds crawled, each one dragging out longer than the last, stretching thin.

You gnawed on your bottom lip, eyes flicking to the window like you might catch sight of him, coming down the sidewalk.

Your breath hitched with every person that walked by, but the street remained stubbornly empty.

Ten minutes. Still no sign of him. The sinking feeling in your gut was hard to ignore now, creeping in like a shadow, growing heavier with every tick of the clock.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself not to overthink it. But your heart betrayed you, the sting settling in, raw and real.

You glanced over at Yoongi, his dark eyes already on you, watching with that familiar blend of concern and protectiveness that had become second nature to him.

You didn’t want Yoongi to worry—he’d done enough of that lately. Always stepping in, always making sure you were okay, even when you weren’t.

But deep down, you couldn't shake the bad feeling in your gut about your date.

Another five minutes slipped by, and Yoongi’s patience snapped. He slid into the seat across from you, his presence solid, grounding, but there was an edge to him now.

“Has he even texted you?” Yoongi’s tone was sharp, his tongue pressing against his cheek.

You shook your head, feeling smaller, deflated with every second that passed. "No," you whispered, the word so small it almost disappeared between the noise of the bar and the hammering of your pulse.

But then your phone buzzed on the table, and hope, foolish as it was, flared up in your chest. Your heart leapt, and you grabbed the phone quickly, a rush of adrenaline surging through you.

“Oh! He messaged…” The words tumbled out in a rush. But the second you read it, all that hope vanished, replaced by the sting of disappointment.

Your breath caught in your throat as you threw the phone back onto the table, the lump that had been forming there now impossible to ignore.

“He’s not coming,” you croaked, your voice cracking on the words.

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, the muscles there twitching as he stared down at the phone. Without a word, he reached for your phone, his movements swift, purposeful. You didn’t even have a chance to protest before you heard the quick tap of his fingers flying across the screen.

Yoongi tossed the phone back onto the table, his face hard. “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s fine,” you tried to laugh it off, though your voice wobbled, the sound shaky and hollow. “He probably showed up, took one look at me, and ran off.”

The words tasted bitter as soon as they left your mouth, an attempt at humour that fell painfully flat. You winced at the sound of your own voice, at how small it felt.

Yoongi’s eyes flashed, his voice low, hard. “It is not fine,” he snapped, the intensity in his voice making you blink. “That asshole has no idea what he’s just missed out on.”

Without warning, Yoongi stood, his expression softened, though his eyes were still dark with anger.

“Come on,” he said, his voice gentler now, but still laced with that same fierce protectiveness. He stretched out his hand toward you, “I’m taking you home, and we’re getting drunk.”

----

You're sitting on the living room floor of your apartment, legs stretched out, the plush carpet soft beneath you.

The room feels warm, almost too warm, as if the alcohol pulsing through your veins is radiating heat.

Your cheeks are flushed, partly from the drinks but mostly from the embarrassment that's still twisting inside you. You can’t shake the humiliation of the night, the way it clings to your skin, making you feel small.

“I feel so humiliated, and for you to witness it?” you blurt out, your voice a little too loud, wavering with frustration.

The words feel jagged as they leave your mouth, slicing through the stillness of the room.

You pour yourself another drink, the amber liquid sloshing unevenly into the glass. You take a long gulp, the burn of alcohol doing nothing to ease the ache of the night.

Yoongi’s sitting on the couch behind you, his body leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you, burning holes into the back of your head.

“I’m just… doomed to be a single woman for all eternity.” The words tumble out, defeated sigh as you slump further back against the couch.

The self-pity flows freely now, loosened by the alcohol, and you don't care how pathetic you sound. You just want to drown in it, let it swallow you whole.

"That's bullshit."

Yoongi’s voice slices through your words, sharp and cutting, freezing you mid-sentence. The word hangs in the air, thick with a tension that sends a shockwave through your chest.

He drags a hand through his hair, tugging harder than necessary, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

His body is a live wire as he leans back on the couch, movements tight, controlled. But his eyes—dark and unblinking—lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze sends a flush of heat through your skin, pooling low in your stomach.

“Any guy would be lucky to be your boyfriend.” His voice is lower now, more serious. The casual tone you’re used to is gone, replaced by something raw. “If you were my girlfriend, I’d fucking worship the ground you walked on.”

The confession hits you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. You blink, pulse stuttering as the room suddenly feels too small, too charged.

His words hang between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to think about anything but the way his eyes haven’t left yours, the way your whole body hums in response.

You stare at him, unsure if you heard him right. Yoongi holds your gaze, unwavering, his face serious—no smirk, no teasing look.

Just a heavy silence that weighs down the room, crackling with a tension you hadn’t noticed before. The kind of tension that makes your pulse quicken, your palms sweat, a flutter stirring low in your stomach.

He’s just your friend. But you’d have to be blind not to notice how ridiculously hot he is, the kind of hot that makes heads turn when he walks into a room.

And maybe you’ve wondered, just for a fleeting second, what it would be like if things were different. If there was more between you.

His pouty lips, how they would feel on yours, you'd heard rumours about his tongue technology, and you'd often touched yourself to the image of you coming on his tongue.

The thought sticks longer than it should, and you shake yourself out of it, blinking fast to erase the images flipping through your head.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice quieter than you expected, one hand rubbing the back of your neck as you look anywhere but at him.

You can’t look at him. Not right now. Your throat feels tight, and you’re way too aware of how close he is, the space between you charged like a live wire.

You’ve got no idea what to say, no clue how to sort through the mess in your head. He’s just being a good friend, you remind yourself. He’s always been that guy, trying to make you feel better. That’s all.

The silence stretches out, thick with unspoken things. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to stand.

You need to break whatever this is, before it spins out of control. “It’s late. We should get some sleep,” you say, holding out your hands to him, trying to keep things light, normal.

Yoongi grabs your hands, and the moment he stands, the force of his pull throws him slightly off balance. Before you can react, he stumbles forward, and you instinctively take a step back.

You don’t get far. Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, and Yoongi is right there, too close. His hand shoots out, bracing himself, caging you in with a quiet intensity that steals your breath.

His palm cradles the back of your head before you even feel the impact, fingers threading gently through your hair, and suddenly, he’s so close. The heat radiating from his body engulfs you, making the air between you feel heavy, thick with something unspoken.

Your breath catches, chest tightening as you become acutely aware of him—his chest just barely grazing yours, his breath warm against your cheek. The scent of him, familiar and intoxicating, makes your pulse race, heart hammering in your chest like it’s trying to break free.

"Are you okay?" His voice is low, rough, the concern in it making your skin tingle. The hand at your head lingers, protective, thumb lightly brushing against the nape of your neck. His other hand is planted firmly beside your head, trapping you in the best kind of way.

You try to nod, but the words catch in your throat. "Yeah…" It's barely a whisper, shaky and uncertain, like you're not sure what you're agreeing to. Your body betrays you, leaning into his touch, drawn to the warmth, the safety, him.

Your pulse is racing, the air between you charged with something electric, something neither of you are acknowledging but both of you can feel. It’s palpable, like a magnetic pull, drawing you closer.

His gaze drops to your lips, lingering just a fraction too long, and the air around you crackles with tension.

His eyes flicker, a hesitation there, like he's at war with himself, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by something hungrier, bolder.

The shift in his expression sends a ripple of heat through you, pooling low in your belly, making your knees tremble.

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, struggling to find control, but all you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your lips, the way his body is just… there. Close. Too close. Not close enough.

"Yoongi," you whisper, your voice barely audible, trembling with anticipation, with need, your heart pounding so loudly you wonder if he can hear it.

He doesn’t reply. Not with words, at least. Instead, he moves with an unhurried grace, like he's trying not to spook you. His breath is shallow, but steady as he leans in, head tilting ever so slightly.

Your heart lurches as his lips hover, an excruciatingly delicate inch from yours. His hesitation is palpable, like he's giving you a final chance to pull away.

His gaze flickers to your mouth, then back to your eyes, a silent plea—Do you want this?

You don’t move. Can’t. Your entire body buzzes in response to him, and the absence of your retreat speaks louder than any word could.

The first brush of his lips is feather-light, a whisper of a touch that sends a shockwave through your entire being.

Your breath catches, and you feel his exhale warm against your skin. The kiss lingers for a heartbeat, then another, before you pull back, suddenly overwhelmed by the thundering pulse in your ears.

"Yoongi," you murmur, your voice a shaky contradiction of want and restraint, "I think you're a little drunk." The words tumble out, an attempt to anchor yourself in the chaos swirling through your head.

He shakes his head, his thumb still tracing slow, torturous circles on your cheek. His gaze sharp and steady locks onto yours. "No," he says, his voice low, firm, a quiet intensity burning beneath each syllable. "I'm not."

Your gaze drops to his lips. The magnetic pull between you is undeniable, stronger than the caution still flickering at the edges of your mind.

You lean in, ever so slowly, until your nose brushes his in a teasing nuzzle. His breath hitches, and you can feel the tremor in his chest as it presses against yours.

His body is taut with anticipation, every muscle tensed like he’s holding himself back.

You pause, hovering just a breath away, searching his eyes for any shred of doubt. But all you find is an all-consuming desire. It reflects in his dark gaze, in the way his hands tighten possessively at your waist, tugging you closer.

Your lips crash into his, the kiss a furious spark igniting a wildfire of pent-up need. It’s hungry, desperate, both of you burning in the flame you’ve been circling for far too long.

His mouth moves against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, as though he’s pouring every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, into that one searing moment.

Your hands find his hair, fingers threading through the silken strands as you pull him closer, deeper, needing more.

The heat between you is unbearable, a dizzying conflagration that lights up every inch of your skin. He groans softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, and the last slivers of hesitation dissolve as you let yourself fall into the fire.

You melted against him, body pressing tightly to his as the kiss deepened, yours breaths ragged with desire. Your hips grind against him, seeking friction to quell the aching between your thighs, moaning into the kiss as you feel his cock twitch in response.

His lips trail down your neck, slow and deliberate, each touch lighting up your skin like a fuse.

Then, he nips at the tender spot, and it sends a sharp, delicious jolt through you. You can’t help it, the gasp slips out, followed by a soft, helpless whimper.

Your body reacts on its own, arching toward him, desperate for more, while the sensation spreads, warm and electric. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breathing shallow and uneven.

His warm hand gently slides under your top giving you enough time to stop him should you not want to go any further, but you only urge him on with your kisses. His fingertips trail up to your breast, gently cupping it, and rolling the bud of your nipple between his fingers 

Your thighs rub together in search of some kind of friction, to help with the wetness now dampening them.

Removing his hand, he reaches under your t-shirt and pulls it up over your head to gain access to your breasts. Groaning  in satisfaction at the sight of them. "Shit, they're perfect, just like I knew they would be"

He takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue over the bud, his other hand kneading your other breast. Your breath hitches, "Oh..fuck...Yoongi please...." you half-moan, half beg, tangling your fingers in his hair to tug him closer.

"Please, what?  Tell me what you want me to do?" his voice comes out almost strained with desire.

" I need you, inside me" you plead, your mind becoming too light, too hazy with desire as the blood pounded in your clit, and Yoongi filled your senses.

Without a word, Yoongi’s hands find your waist, his grip firm but gentle, as he spins you around in one fluid motion.

The sudden movement makes your breath catch, and before you can process what's happening, he’s guiding you back, your body sinking into the soft cushions of the couch.

His touch lingers, sending sparks through your skin, every nerve hyper-aware of his proximity.

Clothes begin to fall away, discarded in a hurried blur, until there’s nothing left but skin and heat and the steady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears.

Getting to his knees, he pulls you forward so your ass is on the edge of the seat.

"Spread your legs for me" he tells you, waiting for you to do so. He Inhales deeply, a low guttural sound expels from him as he takes in the sight of your pussy and the glistening slick of your arousal.

"Fuck...." he grunts, his hand fisting his erection, now leaking with pre-cum.

Using his thumb he rubs your clit in slow lazy circles, watching for your reaction Soft moans erupt from you, that only further ignite the blood pounding in his hard cock.

Slowly, he lowers himself between your legs. Hands holding your legs wide open. You anticipate his mouth but still gasp when you feel it on you, licking a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit, groaning when he tastes you. 

"Oh!" You exclaim, hips bucking up to meet his face, silently begging for more. He chuckles darkly, the vibrations sending shivers through your entire body. Yoongi hooks his arms under your thighs, shifting you higher as he buries his face into your core. His tongue circles your clit, flicking it back and forth at a such a speed that you almost begin to see stars.

It was better than you had imagined, he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance. Immediately you tighten around it as he presses against the sensitive spot inside, making you gasp and squirm in need. "You're so tight" he groans, his deep bassy voice sending vibrations through your clit.

Adding another, he scissors you with his fingers, Yoongi's name falls from your lips as he watches, eyes dark with molten desire.

Leaning forward his lips press against yours, kissing you softly as he picks up the speed, leaving you writhing in pleasure. "That's it, you're taking these fingers so well beautiful" he coos.

The heat in your belly begins to tighten its coil, your eyes squeeze shut as you concentrate on the pleasure building. "Oh god Yoongi, I'm so close!" you gasp.

"Come for me baby" He demands, as he closes his mouth around your clit, sucking gently, and it's all that's need for your orgasm to crash over you.

Yoongi laps up your juices, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, prolonging your climax. "Fuck, you taste so good" he pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking the clean.

You whimpered, "Please Yoongi...." pussy clenching at nothing as you watch him.

"What's the matter baby? What do you need?" he asked with a smirk, grinding his cock against your folds.

"Need you, wanna be full of you" you gasped as you felt him catch at your entrance.

"Is that so?" he murmured, brow cocking with a shit eating grin, teasing you with just the tip.

Pausing for a second, he grits his teeth as he slowly pushes his way in. He groaned as your wet, raw heat surrounded him. He drew his hips back and then slowly pumped them forward again, giving you time to get used to the feel of him, pussy stretching around him.

"Do you know how often I thought about fucking you? How much I've wanted you." he grunts between thrusts.

His eyes close, head falling back concentrating on the feel of your warm silky walls.

"Same! Wanted you too! " You gasp as his blunt tip hits your cervix. He grabs your hips, shoving deeply into you, causing you both to moan out loud.

"Yoongi....." is all you can manage to say, your eyes rolling back when he snapped his hips hard.

"I know baby, feels so good." he grunts.

The sound of skin on skin slapping and heavy breathing, echoes around the room. Heat prickles at your skin, a flush spreading across your face and chest. His eyes fixate on the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

He leans down and suckles on a nipple, slowing his pace down. Your nails scratch lightly at his back making him hiss.

“Oh God, Yoongi! Please! ” you gasped as you clung to him, you buried your face in the crook of his neck.  

He sat back his heels, hooking your knees over his arms – shifting, tilting, testing until his dick hit the inside of your pussy, making you curse and moan out loud.

"Fuck, look at this messy pussy. Taking my cock so well kitten" he bit his lip as he watched as your juices coated his cock.

He thrusts again, the angle hitting the right spot and you can feel yourself heading towards another orgasm. "I'm so close!" you whined.

He cursed when he felt you clench around him, "Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" He encourages, fingers tighten around your hips in a grip, that would surely leave bruises there afterwards and pulling you down to meet his hard thrusts.

Your orgasm slams into you, you moan his name over and over, thighs trembling.

"Fuck, y/n " He exhaled harshly, his thrusts getting less regular as he grew closer to his orgasm. "Where do you want me to come?"

"Inside, I'm on the pill, it's fine" you rush out, desperate to be filled by him.

His hips jerk one final time, deep moans and pathetic whimpers falling from his lips as he empties himself inside you, groaning your name.

A few seconds later, he stills, slowly pulling himself out of you, wincing at the oversensitivity in his cock, flopping over on to his back. Silence fills the room as you both try to gather yourselves.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on you, you glance at him, shy, unsure of what to say or do.

Without a word, he reaches out, his hand moving gently as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. His touch is slow, like he’s savouring the moment, and it sends a delicate shiver through you, a reminder of everything that just happened.

“You doing okay?” His voice is low, hushed, as if the quiet of the room is sacred.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, your lips curving into a soft smile. “More than okay.”

His eyes don’t leave yours, not for a second. The corner of his mouth tugs into a small, knowing smile. He leans in lips brushing yours, a slow, tender kiss. It’s gentle, but it sends a ripple through you, igniting every nerve in your body.

When he pulls back, just enough to look at you again, his eyes are darker, filled with something deeper than before. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and his voice drops to a whisper. "Good," he murmurs, his words barely audible, but you feel them all the same. "Because this is just the beginning for us."

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

welcome to the masterlist! 

Disclaimer: Many of these, if not all, have cuss words in them. They were all written for a target audience of ages 13+. Any similarities between these stories and any others are completely coincidental and unintentional. Please do not copy my work and/or claim it as yours. 

requests are open!

last updated: 8.25.21

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happy birthday!

↳ friends to lovers au | a whole lot of fluff, soft yoongi | 3.7k

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dance practice 

↳ established relationship au | fluff, idol!jimin, slight angst | 900+

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Happy Birthday!

Pairing: Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: A whole lot of fluff, soft Yoongi, 13+

Warnings: Some cuss words and Yoongi being a lovesick puppy

Word Count: 3.7k (wow that’s the longest one shot I’ve ever written)

Summary: It’s your birthday and Yoongi doesn’t know what to get you. He has a huge crush on you and he wants everything to be perfect.

---

Your birthday was tomorrow. You knew it, your best friend knew, the boys knew it, Yoongi knew it. How could Yoongi forget one of the most important days of the year? Well, it wasn’t as important as everyone was hyping it up to be, but it was for Yoongi. Especially because he had the biggest crush on you since Jimin introduced you to him and the others over a year ago. And he was going to use this day to finally tell you how he felt, using the advice Jimin gave him.

The only problem was, he didn’t know what gift to get you. You were supposed to be meeting up at their dorm tomorrow afternoon so they could celebrate with you and Minah, one out of two of your best friends, and he still had no idea what to buy.

Even as he stood in the middle of the shopping mall about a mile from the dorm, he was clueless and running out of time. So he did what he thought of as a last resort and dialed a number.

The boy on the other line answered with a tired ‘Hello?’, making it clear to Yoongi that he had just woken up from a nap. “Jimin-ah, I need your help.”

“Are you trying to find a gift for Y/N but you have no idea what to get her so you’re calling me to see if I can give you an idea of what to buy since I’m her best friend and I know her better than she knows herself?” That left Yoongi speechless.

Jimin knew of the older boy’s crush on you, hell, all the boys did. Even Minah, who was also one of the densest people in all of Korea, knew. Everyone could tell by the way Yoongi’s mood would lift every time you walked into the room, his obvious attempts of getting closer to you on movie nights, spending hours in his studio showing you songs he’d been working on, even letting you hear him sing after he swore he didn’t have the ability to. And when you told him you loved his songs and his voice, he felt his heart do a backflip in his chest. But somehow, you didn’t notice.

“How the fuck did you know that?” Jimin rolled his eyes so hard, Yoongi could practically hear it.

“You’re so easy to read when it comes to her, hyung.” The Busan boy sighed, sitting up in his bed once he realized he wasn’t getting any more sleep. “You already know Y/N’s really into photography, and I just happen to know her camera just broke. She needs a new one.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, wondering to himself how he didn’t think of that before. “Thanks Jiminie, I owe you.” Jimin mumbled a simple ‘hell yeah you do’ and hung up the phone, but not without reminding Yoongi how much he loved him. The older male externally gagged, but internally smiled.

He knew you would never accept a brand new camera from him, but he was going to force you to take it, since he knew how much photography meant to you. He couldn’t live with himself if he knew you couldn’t do the thing you loved, and that he had a way to help. So he walked into Best Buy and made a beeline to the camera section. He knew absolutely nothing about cameras, but he was lucky to have a worker show him the best one for taking 4K pictures. Yoongi thought you’d really like an upgrade from your previous camera, which was kinda crappy considering that you got it for cheap.

Oh yeah, Yoongi thought, Y/N is definitely going to kill me. The boy, who usually kept his feelings to himself, found himself smiling at the thought of what your reaction would be. You’d definitely give him the worst death glare you could muster up, but he knew you would be actually trying your hardest not to cry. So as he swiped his credit card in the card reader, his excitement to give you this gift only grew.

Yoongi sat at his desk later that night, ignoring the calls of all the boys and their questioning of the bag he had in his hands. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, getting to work on the second half of his gift for you.

Meanwhile, you were laying on Minah’s bed while staring up at the ceiling, your best friend sitting on her desk chair. You had no idea what she was doing, but you didn’t question it. Everyone seemed to be keeping something from you lately. First, Minah begged you to sleep over, then you caught her talking to Jimin on the phone about god knows what. Now, she was telling you that the two of you were going over to the boys’ dorm because she forgot her favorite sweater there.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and texted the only person you thought you could get information out of.

If Hoseok didn’t know anything, that means they probably kept him out of it. He was probably the worst liar you had ever met, he couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. But you dropped the subject as soon as Minah stood up from her desk chair. She gestured for you to move over so she could get in the bed too. Back in Busan, you, Minah, and Jimin had been sleeping in the same bed since you all were in diapers, so this wasn’t weird at all to either of you.

“Minah?” You spoke in a soft voice, causing the girl to turn to look at you.

“What’s up?”

You bit your lip, thinking for a second. “What if everyone forgot my birthday? The only person that has said anything about it was Hoseok.”

Minah had to keep herself from smiling. “I’m sure everyone remembers, there’s still a half hour until your actual birthday. Don’t worry, okay?”

You took her word for it, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts. For the next half hour, you and Minah talked about memories you both had from middle school, including the time the two of you drew all over Jimin’s face in middle school when he fell asleep in class. He was still holding a grudge against the two of you for that.

Before you knew it, the alarm clock on Minah’s bedside read twelve am.

Minah jumped up and wrapped her arms around you, screaming ‘happy birthday!’ so loudly in your ear that you were sure her neighbors heard her. You laughed, the girl’s strength knocking you down on the bed while you hugged her back.

“Thank you, now get off of me!” As soon as she did, your phone rang. It was your parents calling you from Busan to wish you a happy birthday. You thanked them, making sure to tell them that you were gonna visit soon before you hung up. Other than that, you had no more calls. Not even from the person you wanted to call you the most, Yoongi.

Everyone knew about your crush on Yoongi, the two of you were really bad at hiding your feelings. But apparently you weren’t, because neither you nor Yoongi knew how the other felt.

Every time you hung out with him and the boys, you always found yourself smiling more than usual whenever he talked to you. And the moments you two spent in his studio listening to a song he wanted to show you only made your stomach fill with butterflies. He seemed to get you more than anyone else did, not even Minah and Jimin. You also couldn’t forget how gentle he always was with you, despite what people have said about him having a cold exterior. Whenever you had a movie night with the boys, Yoongi would always end up sitting next to you, even sharing his blanket with you when you got cold. He’d scold you whenever he caught you speaking badly about yourself, telling you never to do that again. Whenever you were upset and needed comfort, he always let you call him no matter what time of night it was. You couldn’t help but fall for him, which is why you felt disappointed when you didn’t get a text or call from him at midnight.

Your lips turned down in a small frown, but Minah didn’t notice. Instead, she explained that the two of you should sleep so you could go to the boys’ dorm early in the afternoon. You turned onto your side, pulling the covers over your shoulder as you closed your eyes and let sleep take over you.

--

You woke up to the sound of a higher pitched male voice singing happy birthday. As your eyes opened, you noticed it was Jimin singing to you while holding a cupcake with a single candle in it, Minah smiling widely behind him. They gave you a second to sit up in Minah’s bed, a wide smile taking over your features. You closed your eyes, making a single wish before blowing out the candle on the cupcake Jimin was holding out for you. He set it on the nightstand, allowing you to jump into your best friend’s arms and thank him profusely. Jimin’s arms picked you up and lifted you off of the bed, spinning you around once before setting you down on the floor.

“Happy birthday, loser.” You laughed, reaching up to ruffle the boy’s hair.

“Yah, that’s noona to you.” You honestly didn’t care about honorifics, but you did it just to tease Jimin about your one year age difference like you always did. He rolled his eyes, pushing your hand away from him while you laughed even more.

“Now go brush your teeth and put on something nice after you shower, you stink.” Minah pushed you towards her bathroom, leaving you confused. If you guys were only going to the dorm to pick up her sweater, why did you need to wear something nice? At this point you learned not to question anything Minah said, so you just went along with it and started getting ready.

About an hour later, you were dressed in a black skirt and a matching black blouse that you found in Minah’s closet after you forgot your clothes at your house. All you did to your hair was brush it out and style it a little, but you liked the way the wavy style looked on you. Once you stepped out of the room, you found Jimin and Minah whispering about something, with Jimin briefly looking down at his phone.

After you cleared your throat to get their attention, they turned to look at you.

“Perfect, let’s go.” Jimin grabbed your hand and brought you over to the door, telling you to put on the black low top vans you came in before leading you and Minah to his car. Throughout the entire car ride to Bangtan’s apartment building, Minah kept bouncing excitedly in her seat. Jimin on the other hand, kept telling her to stop before he threw her out of his porsche.

Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the building, making your way up the familiar elevator before walking down the hall. You were about to put in the code to the front door before Jimin slid in front of you so he could do it himself. What a child.

He sent a quick text from his phone before putting in the door code. The lights were off inside the big apartment, and you wondered where the boys were. Were they all out and Jimin was the first one home? Dismissing the thought, you took your shoes off at the entrance and put on the slippers the boys got you a few months into your friendship with them. You were about to start looking for Minah’s sweater until all of a sudden, the lights turned on and six boys jumped up screaming.

“Surprise!” You would’ve fell on your ass if it wasn’t for Minah who caught you from behind, everyone laughing at your reaction. All around you were balloons and streamers in an array of colors, the entire living area of the dorm looking festive.

You started tearing up, your hand fanning your eyes as you looked around at the seven boys -- plus Minah -- that planned this surprise party for you.

“You guys did all of this for me?” They all nodded, all of them running over to hug you before you could burst into tears. You hugged all of them individually, each boy wishing you a happy birthday. Hoseok came up to you, wrapping his arms around you in a friendly hug. Aside from Jimin, Hoseok was the next boy you considered as one of your closest friends in Bangtan.

“I swear, Y/N, I didn’t know anything about this until an hour ago.” You laughed, hugging the boy tightly.

Next was Yoongi. He walked up to you with a smile on his face, holding his arms out for a hug. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, your heart doing backflips and somersaults in your chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you to say happy birthday at midnight, they took my phone so I couldn’t contact you and ruin the surprise,” He spoke, his lips right next to your ear making his soft voice send shivers through your body. You hugged him for a second longer than the other boys before pulling back from the hug.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t worried.” That was a lie, but you decided that Yoongi didn’t need to know that.

The two of you walked over to the living room where the rest of the party was, your body immediately taking a seat next to Seokjin when he offered you one of the switch remotes to play Mario Kart with him.

That’s how the party went for the next few hours. A Mario Kart tournament between you and your eight friends took up a lot of the time, but you ended up beating everyone. You knew all of them had let you win, because there was no way you could beat Seokjin, Jungkook, AND Taehyung. But you didn’t mind, you got a crown made out of paper as your prize.

At last, it was gift opening time. Everyone sat on the living room floor, letting you use the couch as your throne as you opened each gift.

“I told you guys not to get me anything.” You whined, earning a bunch of comments from the peanut gallery to shut up and open your gifts.

So that’s what you did, starting with a gift from Jungkook. He got you the new pair of vans you’ve been wanting and were telling him about last week. Taehyung got you a gucci necktie to match his, Hoseok got you a pin that says ‘I <3 New Zealand’ from when they visited the year before (which you laughed at), Seokjin got you an Eevee plushie to match his, Namjoon got you a copy of the book he was reading which you asked him for a while ago, and Jimin got you a signed cd of his single ‘Promise’. After each of the boys gave you their gifts, you hugged each of them and made sure to tell them how much you really liked everything.

Then Yoongi gave you his. It was in a wrapped box and it felt heavy. You prayed that he didn’t get you something expensive, after you specifically told everyone not to buy you anything expensive. But you carefully opened it anyway, the wrapping paper revealing the box of a brand new Canon camera. A chorus of surprised sounds came from everyone, your eyes widening while looking down at the box. This camera was a huge upgrade from the shitty one you had before, which broke after some random guy bumped into you while you were taking pictures one day.

“Min Yoongi, I’m gonna kill you.” You mustered the best death glare you could give him. If looks could kill, the boy would be six feet under by now.

“Well I’m not taking it back, and there’s no refunds or returns so you have to accept it.” He wore a smug smile on his face that you wanted so badly to wipe off completely. You would definitely murder him in his sleep later.

You set the box down next to you and sighed in defeat, going over to hug him too.

“Thank you, it really means a lot to me.” Your voice was soft as you thanked him, and you could feel him smile against your cheek. You were about to go back to your seat when Yoongi stopped you.

“Actually, there’s something else I have for you,” He looked around at the curious eyes of everyone staring up at him, “in private.”

This set off another chorus of ‘woah’s from all of the boys, Minah only snickering in the corner. After telling them all to shut up, Yoongi stood and gestured for you to follow him to his room. You stood and followed closely behind him, ignoring the stares you felt on the back of your head.

Yoongi led you into his room and closed the door behind him so you two would have privacy. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, wondering why he brought you here.

“So I kinda wrote you a small note, and I didn’t want you to read it in front of everyone so I brought you here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to you with red cheeks. You didn’t know how to react except for responding with a small ‘thank you’ before opening the note.

Dear Y/N,

I kinda feel like an idiot writing this letter to you, but I didn’t know how else to tell you. Okay I’m just gonna say it, I like you. Like really like you. I like spending time with you, whether it’s with the boys or alone, I like showing you the songs I’m working on, I like when you sit close to me on movie nights, I like when you smile and literally light up any room you walk into, I like how little strands of your hair fall into your eyes and you don’t even notice it, I like the way your dimples pop out every time you smile, I like everything about you. I really like the way I feel when I’m around you, like I get this tingly feeling in my stomach and I can feel my heart do little flips in my chest, and I just feel really happy when I’m around you. Everything in me just wants to keep you happy, because you look really beautiful when you smile, and your laugh is probably more contagious than Hoseok’s (and that’s saying a lot). My point is, I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve right now and I just wanted to ask you something.

P.S: Look back up at me when you’re done reading this.

You had tears in your eyes by the time you looked back up at a nervous Yoongi, his hands shoved in his front pockets to keep himself from fidgeting with them.

“Now that you know my feelings, will you please be my girlfriend?” Yoongi couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours, not until he heard your answer. Right now, he was giving his heart to you in hopes that you wouldn’t break it. He was revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you got to see, and that he had never shown anyone.

You smiled as a few tears slipped past your eyelids, which made Yoongi immediately go into panic mode.

“Oh shit, did I do something? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-“ You cut him off by chuckling lightly, shaking your head.

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.” Your hands reached up to rest on his cheeks, pulling his face closer to yours until your lips met his. Almost immediately, his hands rested on your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

The kiss lasted a little less than ten seconds before both of you hesitantly pulled back just enough to look at each other’s faces.

“Yes,” You spoke softly, causing a confused look to take over Yoongi’s face. Laughing lightly, you realized he completely forgot about his question. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Yoongi smiled his gummy smile that you absolutely adored, his arms wrapping around your waist to hug you again. The size of your smile mirrored his as your hands ran through his hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” His head pulled back, leaning down to kiss you again. You broke the kiss after a second, though, much to his dismay.

“As much as I just want to kiss you all night, we have a crowd of people waiting for us outside.” Yoongi whined, only making you laugh more. But you were serious about going back out there, taking hold of his hand and walking back out of his room. The two of you walked hand in hand back to the living room, smiling at all of the surprised faces staring back at you.

“Finally!” Jimin called out, earning himself a slap on the back of the head from Seokjin. But everyone agreed with Jimin’s opinion, congratulating you and Yoongi.

You all decided to end the night with cake and a movie. Everyone called for you to pick the movie while Minah got up to grab the cake in the kitchen, so you picked ‘Toy Story 2’ again. They all started complaining, but you just smiled and pressed play on the screen.

Instead of sitting on the couch like you normally would’ve, you decided to sit on the floor in between Yoongi’s legs, leaning your back against his chest. You felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, looking back to see your now boyfriend looking back down at you with a smile on his face. Making sure no one was looking, you leaned up to quickly kiss his waiting lips before resting your head back on his shoulder, your arms resting on top of his.

This was officially the best birthday ever.

yoongi our 6’5 nonchalant dread head😍😍😍

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked. 

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind. 

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst. 

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself. 

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat. 

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks. 

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans. 

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is. 

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house. 

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away. 

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.” 

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.” 

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly. 

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off. 

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart. 

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers. 

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together. 

Taboo, even. 

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just… 

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span. 

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag. 

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day. 

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall. 

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to? 

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.” 

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” 

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday. 

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest. 

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact. 

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets. 

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again. 

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter. 

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street. 

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans. 

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?” 

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too. 

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.” 

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?” 

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.” 

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead. 

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought. 

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point. 

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return. 

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand. 

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—” 

“Course I don’t.” 

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again? 

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again. 

What the hell is up with today? 

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now? 

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too. 

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first. 

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously. 

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached. 

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.” 

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.  

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time? 

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street. 

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.” 

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.” 

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one. 

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.” 

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence. 

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home? 

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.” 

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences. 

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.” 

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over? 

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.” 

Ah. 

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!” 

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk. 

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting. 

And he looks impatient as hell. 

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived. 

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?” 

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second. 

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question? 

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks. 

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it. 

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.” 

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence, 

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once. 

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right. 

Left seems promising. 

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. 

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared. 

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby. 

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance. 

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out. 

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form. 

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge. 

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere. 

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here? 

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase. 

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win. 

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful. 

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on? 

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight. 

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now. 

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you. 

What do you do? What even can you do? 

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance. 

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!” 

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.  

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life. 

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!” 

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him. 

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do… 

This one thing… 

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you. 

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck. 

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply, 

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?” 

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet. 

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward. 

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant. 

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now. 

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.” 

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.” 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages. 

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill. 

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.” 

Live with it. How poetic. 

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor. 

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps. 

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling. 

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe. 

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs. 

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down? 

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same. 

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.” 

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now. 

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?” 

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit. 

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought. 

This is going too well. 

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now. 

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded. 

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime. 

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run. 

You’re really doing this. 

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go. 

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front. 

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns. 

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine. 

And he’s… enjoying this? 

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees. 

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit. 

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between. 

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes. 

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face. 

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life. 

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no. 

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is— 

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd. 

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.” 

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside. 

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in. 

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear, 

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.” 

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either. 

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun. 

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight. 

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes. 

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever. 

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey. 

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck! 

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day. 

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts. 

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory. 

Did you both really make it this far? 

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do. 

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three. 

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not. 

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.” 

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.” 

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it, 

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right? 

Right? 

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop. 

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it. 

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up. 

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again. 

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all. 

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive. 

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district. 

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head. 

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward. 

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head. 

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore. 

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name! 

“Agust!” 

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle. 

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt. 

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now. 

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection. 

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way. 

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry. 

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by. 

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time. 

Your tangerines… 

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away. 

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal. 

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake. 

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers. 

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.” 

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?” 

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.” 

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.” 

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.  

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.” 

Mm. 

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow. 

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. 

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have? 

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now. 

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust. 

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train. 

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—” 

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.” 

“Understood.” 

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling. 

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with? 

…Who exactly did you save? 

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into. 

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman. 

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

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⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist (coming soon!)

three tangerines (m) | myg

title: three tangerines pairing: yoongi x reader rating/genre: m ; smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: throughout high school, you sometimes caught glimpses of your brother’s older friends: some of them were sweet, some of them were smart. but the one closest to him? that guy was a total f*ckboy from day one. after a foray of horrid relationships spanning years - ending with one that broke up with you for an alarming reason - you needed advice on what the hell you were doing wrong… and this wasn’t a conversation for anyone sweet or smart. (loosely based off one part of “the window” by silvershine) warnings: pov switch (just one), age gap implied, cursing, dirty talk, choking, hair pulling, thigh riding, oral (m/f rec), sl*t/wh*re mentions, spanking, size kink, hand kink, pussy slapping, penetration, protected sex, rough sex, fingering, breast play, slight ass play, daechwita yoongi should be a warning in itself.. i think that’s it? he keeps the chains on so there’s that, too lmao note: this is a super late birthday present for the wonderful @sketchguk​ <3 ily, teresa and i hope you have fun with this one lololol. and thank you endlessly to @taesinferno​ @chateautae​ and @lavienjin for being angel betas! you all mean the world to me and you know i got you if you need anything in return. note 2: ALSO.. thank you all so much for the level of interest bc that taglist was popping. i did not expect that turnout (or to laugh so much at all of your answers and screams LOL) so you gave me incredible motivation to keep writing. i’m also trying something new which you will see if you get to the end. seriously, ty ty!  total word count: 12k drop date: november 16th, 2021, 7:17pm est 20/11/2021 update: also posted on ao3  04/01/2022 update: ⇥ masterlist

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When Yoongi told you he would be there if you needed anything, this isn’t what he had in mind.

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