1/1: falling behind with everything we left there
bts | yoongi/jimin | 1,8k | romance, fluff, almost-au
Contrary to popular belief, Yoongi’s actually one the few of his members (a.k.a. just Seokjin and him) who wakes up early without giving a fight. He loves sleeping, of course who doesn't?, but because of the sometimes (always) sporadic quality of their schedules, his body’s become used to keeping him until the crack of dawn and waking up only after two hours of sleep if he's lucky. It seems that it carries over even to when he actually goes to sleep at an appropriate time of the night and has no schedules tomorrow, automatically waking up around three to four in the morning. Sometimes, he catches Seokjin shuffling into the kitchen, hears his almost-muted feet padding across the room in order not to wake the young ones (they aren't really light sleepers, but). That is, when Yoongi actually decides to get up from the comforting, cozy nest that is his bed.
Because on most days, he opts to stay in bed, forgoes grabbing a glass of water to quench his parched throat and relieving his bladder all together in favor of nestling into his bed further.
On good days, when the temperature’s perfect, the air smells of winter dew and his bed feels like clouds under the weight of his body, Yoongi stays in bed until Seokjin sends somebody in to fetch him.
Because on good days, Yoongi gets to be just a normal twenty-two year-old adult who's not an idol who has a clean-slate image to keep and a schedule to follow, strictly.
Because on better days, Yoongi gets to think and not have a constant, "work work work work, get up now, please people, be perfect" chanting at the back of his head and not see expecting eyes burnt at the back of his eyelids.
Because on best days, especially on best days, there is a Park Jimin curled against his chest, snug and perfectly fit, small but heavy figure molding into his own. On best days, Jimin has a fist curled around the bottom of Yoongi's sweater, has an arm slung around Yoongi’s hip, has a leg sandwiched between Yoongi's thighs and has his ankles crossed with Yoongi's.
On best, best, bestest days, Jimin is all Yoongi's.
So when Yoongi wakes up feeling the warm presence of his Jimin, head pillowed on his arm, and smells the soothing aloe shampoo that only his Jimin uses, Yoongi decides to stay in bed, doesn't think of getting up, even. He slowly blinks his eyes to consciousness and the corners of his lips automatically curve into a small, grateful smile at the sight.
Jimin's slightly chapped lips are parted open, stands of hair are stuck to his forehead, and his eyelashes are resting upon his smooth cheeks. Vulnerable, soft, real, and his.
Yoongi's heart beats a soft lullaby caged in his ribs as he observes Jimin, moonlight bathing his skin softly, coloring him translucent. Yoongi decides then and there that moonlight is definitely a suitable color on him. Scintillating stars are playing on his cheeks and it takes everything for Yoongi to not brush his thumb over the prominent apple of his cheek, to not trace a fingertip over the constellations down the length of his sharp jaw.
Yoongi thinks he can watch Jimin forever, believes he can be with Jimin forever, knows he can love Jimin forever.
Yoongi indulges himself to the thoughts of Jimin letting him.
He's never really shown anybody just how much he loves the younger. Doesn't let anyone a peek in his mind, especially in his heart, because he's never really been a big announcer of love. Unlike Hoseok, who makes sure everyone knows he loves them with big, wet kisses on cheeks. Unlike Taehyung, who engulfs anyone and everyone in bear hugs who comes within a five-meter radius. He's contented with just being there in the background, only entering the scene when he thinks he's needed, and dotes on the younger ones in the littlest of gestures that he's pretty sure nobody knows anything and he's okay with that.
But he's not sure if Jimin is.
Because Jimin's always been a fan of overblown k-dramas with protagonists who go through great, unnecessary lengths just to proclaim their loves - eyes sparkling with admiration as he watches the protagonists get in a bloody fist fights, run a hundred kilometers chasing after a bus, scream their confessions front of a thousand people, buy a million of roses all for their loved ones.
But when it comes to Yoongi, he promises he's okay with the way the elder deals with love, okay with Yoongi only reaching for his hand in the secrecy of their van, only pressing kisses to his cheeks and lips when the others are out in grocery runs - and he's made sure Yoongi knows it with the way he peppers kisses all over Yoongi's shoulders and neck and cheeks and forehead, lets him know with gentle but firm fingers coiled around his’, lets him know by actually saying it.
And Yoongi's never been scared of anything before (other than his father), but now he fears, immensely, that maybe his inability to announce his love loud and proud (not that he isn't, because god knows if he could, he'd long told anyone who'd listen about Jimin and the way his eyes twinkle in the dark) will be the cause of why Jimin would leave him one day and he just -
He just can't make himself believe that Jimin wouldn't. He's insecure, more than anyone, but he thinks he hides it well because no one's figured it out three years later and that's okay, too.
He spends the rest of the morning chasing his thoughts away by counting the pale freckles littering Jimin’s cheeks and button nose and reminding himself that this person is his, because even after months and months spent on reassuring that this is real and not just a fragment of his imagination, Yoongi still has a hard time accepting the fact that Jimin is truly his.
Jimin wakes up sometime after seven, when his skin has turned from pale to golden and soft sunlight's filtering through their thin curtains and he’s still so, so beautiful.
Jimin blinks the sleep out of his eyes blearily, a soft yawn cracking his lips open, and slowly focuses his attention on the pair of gentle brown eyes looking down at him.
"Hyung," Jimin's voice sounds dry from his mouth, but his nose is quick to scrunch up and his lips tug to a small, teasing grin when Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgement at the back of his throat.
"Three hours," Yoongi hums in response to the hidden question behind the grin, finally bringing his aching fingers to fiddle with the soft locks of hair covering Jimin's eyes.
It's in the confinement of his room and maybe because of the early morning, too, that Yoongi sometimes lets his honesty slip (that’s okay, too).
"You should really stop watching me sleep, hyung, it’s getting creepy," a soft, elated laugh bubbles from Jimin’s throat despite his accusation, eyes curling into delightful slits, before he tilts his chin upward, lips jutting to form a small pout.
Yoongi mumbles something about ‘morning breath’ but complies to Jimin’s request for a good morning kiss anyway, dipping his head to press a light, close-mouthed kiss on Jimin’s lips, and even when their lips are both cracked from the night, he still thinks Jimin’s lips are the softest. He presses another one on Jimin’s forehead before lifting his head back.
"Stop coming up to my bed, he said," Yoongi whispers with a teasing glint in his eyes, voice laced with playfulness, before curling an arm around Jimin’s waist, hand slipping underneath the younger's shirt. Yoongi presses his palm against the small of Jimin’s back; the pad of his thumb drawing comforting circles on his skin.
"Hyung, that's getting really old," Jimin whines through a wrinkled nose and half-lidded eyes, on the brink of falling asleep again, "besides, your bed's way comfier than mine, it's unfair."
"That's just life, don't be a baby." Yoongi answers with no bite in his tone and sighs in contentment; satisfied with just watching the younger sleep, or at least him trying to.
"But I like it when you call me baby," there's pink dusting Jimin’s cheeks, but he allows his lips twist into a cheeky, adorable grin before burying his head back into Yoongi's chest.
"You're such an idiot," Yoongi can't help the snort that escapes his lips, and he can feel Jimin frown against his chest, and it's such a good day, "but you are my baby, anyway."
Jimin pulls his head back, a huge, stupid grin plastered on his lips as he reaches up to plant a kiss on Yoongi's nose, and when he pulls back his eyes are filled with constellations that speak adoration. "You're so in love with me, aren't you."
Yoongi thinks Jimin doesn't really know just how much, thinks that 'yeah, I do. And you'll be scared if you knew just how much', Yoongi thinks about how much it hurts because he thinks maybe he wouldn’t be able to let him know just how much. Yoongi thinks, thinks, and thinks.
He's quiet for a moment and Jimin doesn't prod for an answer that Yoongi would’ve thought he had already fallen back to sleep if Jimin's fingers didn't press gently into his hip once in a while.
He rakes his fingers through the soft locks of Jimin’s hair idly, tugging on the strands lightly before letting his hand drag down the length of Jimin’s arm, from the curve of his shoulder blade, down to the bumps of his knuckles, and slowly takes Jimin’s tiny hand from his hip into his own, interlacing their fingers intricately.
"And you're so full of yourself," Yoongi replies with a light roll of his eyes, but he pulls on Jimin’s hand and maneuvers Jimin’s arm to wind around his thin waist anyway, burying his nose into the top of Jimin’s head, "but yeah. Yeah, I kinda am."
Yoongi decides it’s okay if Jimin doesn't know, decides it’s okay if nobody knows, really. Because that's not going to be changing anything, and Yoongi’s pretty sure he'll stay in love with Jimin until the younger tells him not to (but he decides even then he'll still love him).
Most of Yoongi’s days have turned into the best ones, he decides, after brushing the lock of hair away from Jimin’s face and the younger draws his mouth to the hollow of his collarbone, scattering butterfly kisses all over his skin, laughing Yoongi’s favorite sound in between (until Hoseok barges in the room around ten-thirty and tells them that Seokjin demands for them to be at the table, presentably, and have breakfast with everyone else).
crossposted @ aff / ao3
part 2/? of two of us on the run
Contrary to popular belief, Yoongi’s actually one the few of his members (a.k.a. just Seokjin and him) who wakes up early without giving a fight. He loves sleeping, of course who doesn't?, but because of the sometimes (always) sporadic quality of their schedules, his body’s become used to keeping him until the crack of dawn and waking up only after two hours of sleep if he's lucky. It seems that it carries over even to when he actually goes to sleep at an appropriate time of the night and has no schedules tomorrow, automatically waking up around three to four in the morning. Sometimes, he catches Seokjin shuffling into the kitchen, hears his almost-muted feet padding across the room in order not to wake the young ones (they aren't really light sleepers, but). That is, when Yoongi actually decides to get up from the comforting, cozy nest that is his bed.
Because on most days, he opts to stay in bed, forgoes grabbing a glass of water to quench his parched throat and relieving his bladder all together in favor of nestling into his bed further.
On good days, when the temperature’s perfect, the air smells of winter dew and his bed feels like clouds under the weight of his body, Yoongi stays in bed until Seokjin sends somebody in to fetch him.
Because on good days, Yoongi gets to be just a normal twenty-two year-old adult who's not an idol who has a clean-slate image to keep and a schedule to follow, strictly.
Because on better days, Yoongi gets to think and not have a constant, "work work work work, get up now, please people, be perfect" chanting at the back of his head and not see expecting eyes burnt at the back of his eyelids.
Because on best days, especially on best days, there is a Park Jimin curled against his chest, snug and perfectly fit, small but heavy figure molding into his own. On best days, Jimin has a fist curled around the bottom of Yoongi's sweater, has an arm slung around Yoongi’s hip, has a leg sandwiched between Yoongi's thighs and has his ankles crossed with Yoongi's.
On best, best, bestest days, Jimin is all Yoongi's.
So when Yoongi wakes up feeling the warm presence of his Jimin, head pillowed on his arm, and smells the soothing aloe shampoo that only his Jimin uses, Yoongi decides to stay in bed, doesn't think of getting up, even. He slowly blinks his eyes to consciousness and the corners of his lips automatically curve into a small, grateful smile at the sight.
Jimin's slightly chapped lips are parted open, stands of hair are stuck to his forehead, and his eyelashes are resting upon his smooth cheeks. Vulnerable, soft, real, and his.
Yoongi's heart beats a soft lullaby caged in his ribs as he observes Jimin, moonlight bathing his skin softly, coloring him translucent. Yoongi decides then and there that moonlight is definitely a suitable color on him. Scintillating stars are playing on his cheeks and it takes everything for Yoongi to not brush his thumb over the prominent apple of his cheek, to not trace a fingertip over the constellations down the length of his sharp jaw.
Yoongi thinks he can watch Jimin forever, believes he can be with Jimin forever, knows he can love Jimin forever.
Yoongi indulges himself to the thoughts of Jimin letting him.
He's never really shown anybody just how much he loves the younger. Doesn't let anyone a peek in his mind, especially in his heart, because he's never really been a big announcer of love. Unlike Hoseok, who makes sure everyone knows he loves them with big, wet kisses on cheeks. Unlike Taehyung, who engulfs anyone and everyone in bear hugs who comes within a five-meter radius. He's contented with just being there in the background, only entering the scene when he thinks he's needed, and dotes on the younger ones in the littlest of gestures that he's pretty sure nobody knows anything and he's okay with that.
But he's not sure if Jimin is.
Because Jimin's always been a fan of overblown k-dramas with protagonists who go through great, unnecessary lengths just to proclaim their loves - eyes sparkling with admiration as he watches the protagonists get in a bloody fist fights, run a hundred kilometers chasing after a bus, scream their confessions front of a thousand people, buy a million of roses all for their loved ones.
But when it comes to Yoongi, he promises he's okay with the way the elder deals with love, okay with Yoongi only reaching for his hand in the secrecy of their van, only pressing kisses to his cheeks and lips when the others are out in grocery runs - and he's made sure Yoongi knows it with the way he peppers kisses all over Yoongi's shoulders and neck and cheeks and forehead, lets him know with gentle but firm fingers coiled around his’, lets him know by actually saying it.
And Yoongi's never been scared of anything before (other than his father), but now he fears, immensely, that maybe his inability to announce his love loud and proud (not that he isn't, because god knows if he could, he'd long told anyone who'd listen about Jimin and the way his eyes twinkle in the dark) will be the cause of why Jimin would leave him one day and he just -
He just can't make himself believe that Jimin wouldn't. He's insecure, more than anyone, but he thinks he hides it well because no one's figured it out three years later and that's okay, too.
He spends the rest of the morning chasing his thoughts away by counting the pale freckles littering Jimin’s cheeks and button nose and reminding himself that this person is his, because even after months and months spent on reassuring that this is real and not just a fragment of his imagination, Yoongi still has a hard time accepting the fact that Jimin is truly his.
Jimin wakes up sometime after seven, when his skin has turned from pale to golden and soft sunlight's filtering through their thin curtains and he’s still so, so beautiful.
Jimin blinks the sleep out of his eyes blearily, a soft yawn cracking his lips open, and slowly focuses his attention on the pair of gentle brown eyes looking down at him.
"Hyung," Jimin's voice sounds dry from his mouth, but his nose is quick to scrunch up and his lips tug to a small, teasing grin when Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgement at the back of his throat.
"Three hours," Yoongi hums in response to the hidden question behind the grin, finally bringing his aching fingers to fiddle with the soft locks of hair covering Jimin's eyes.
It's in the confinement of his room and maybe because of the early morning, too, that Yoongi sometimes lets his honesty slip (that’s okay, too).
"You should really stop watching me sleep, hyung, it’s getting creepy," a soft, elated laugh bubbles from Jimin’s throat despite his accusation, eyes curling into delightful slits, before he tilts his chin upward, lips jutting to form a small pout.
Yoongi mumbles something about ‘morning breath’ but complies to Jimin’s request for a good morning kiss anyway, dipping his head to press a light, close-mouthed kiss on Jimin’s lips, and even when their lips are both cracked from the night, he still thinks Jimin’s lips are the softest. He presses another one on Jimin’s forehead before lifting his head back.
"Stop coming up to my bed, he said," Yoongi whispers with a teasing glint in his eyes, voice laced with playfulness, before curling an arm around Jimin’s waist, hand slipping underneath the younger's shirt. Yoongi presses his palm against the small of Jimin’s back; the pad of his thumb drawing comforting circles on his skin.
"Hyung, that's getting really old," Jimin whines through a wrinkled nose and half-lidded eyes, on the brink of falling asleep again, "besides, your bed's way comfier than mine, it's unfair."
"That's just life, don't be a baby." Yoongi answers with no bite in his tone and sighs in contentment; satisfied with just watching the younger sleep, or at least him trying to.
"But I like it when you call me baby," there's pink dusting Jimin’s cheeks, but he allows his lips twist into a cheeky, adorable grin before burying his head back into Yoongi's chest.
"You're such an idiot," Yoongi can't help the snort that escapes his lips, and he can feel Jimin frown against his chest, and it's such a good day, "but you are my baby, anyway."
Jimin pulls his head back, a huge, stupid grin plastered on his lips as he reaches up to plant a kiss on Yoongi's nose, and when he pulls back his eyes are filled with constellations that speak adoration. "You're so in love with me, aren't you."
Yoongi thinks Jimin doesn't really know just how much, thinks that 'yeah, I do. And you'll be scared if you knew just how much', Yoongi thinks about how much it hurts because he thinks maybe he wouldn’t be able to let him know just how much. Yoongi thinks, thinks, and thinks.
He's quiet for a moment and Jimin doesn't prod for an answer that Yoongi would’ve thought he had already fallen back to sleep if Jimin's fingers didn't press gently into his hip once in a while.
He rakes his fingers through the soft locks of Jimin’s hair idly, tugging on the strands lightly before letting his hand drag down the length of Jimin’s arm, from the curve of his shoulder blade, down to the bumps of his knuckles, and slowly takes Jimin’s tiny hand from his hip into his own, interlacing their fingers intricately.
"And you're so full of yourself," Yoongi replies with a light roll of his eyes, but he pulls on Jimin’s hand and maneuvers Jimin’s arm to wind around his thin waist anyway, burying his nose into the top of Jimin’s head, "but yeah. Yeah, I kinda am."
Yoongi decides it’s okay if Jimin doesn't know, decides it’s okay if nobody knows, really. Because that's not going to be changing anything, and Yoongi’s pretty sure he'll stay in love with Jimin until the younger tells him not to (but he decides even then he'll still love him).
Most of Yoongi’s days have turned into the best ones, he decides, after brushing the lock of hair away from Jimin’s face and the younger draws his mouth to the hollow of his collarbone, scattering butterfly kisses all over his skin, laughing Yoongi’s favorite sound in between (until Hoseok barges in the room around ten-thirty and tells them that Seokjin demands for them to be at the table, presentably, and have breakfast with everyone else).
crossposted @ aff / ao3
part 2/? of two of us on the run