[BTS] Yoongi drabbles
Three Yoongi drabbles since he was the most requested member in this last round of tumblr prompts.
Title: The Monster
Pairing: Yoongi/Jimin
Word count: 870
Summary: Yoongi starts doubting chance the third time he sees Jimin near one of his assignments. Part of the death series
Some days, Yoongi missed the quiet forests that he used to frequently visit, collecting the souls of animals had been calm work.
But cities, cities were full of life, and lights, and sounds, and color, and people, people living and breathing everywhere. Yoongi had to cover himself from head to toe but at least he was able to walk through crowds, and hear heartbeats and conversations, and feel the warmth of blood thrumming through people’s veins. Cities were alive in ways that a forest could never compare.
When Yoongi was on assignments like this one, the wings on his back didn’t drag against the ground, they felt lighter than ever.
The city was Bangkok. A city of skyscrapers, red lips and high heels, gambling and casinos, and people with too much time and money on their hands.
An easy place for a murder.
Yoongi sighed at the thought, somewhere in this city someone was being prepared for death, a lamb to the slaughter. A shame, but at least they would die somewhere beautiful.
Yoongi side stepped a couple kissing in front of the hotel entrance.
It was on the tenth floor, in a corner room.
Asphyxiation, a plastic bag tied around the guy’s head. His face was blue, his tongue was black, and his hands were tied behind his back. The soul stood in the corner of the room, looking down at his body. There was something off about it, Yoongi couldn’t place it but this wasn’t the atmosphere associated with his line of work.
“It’s hard,” Yoongi offered, "seeing yourself like this."
The guy looked up at him, his eyes lingered on Yoongi’s black wings. “It is,” he agreed, “so you’re death?”
“One of them,” Yoongi walked next to him, the buckles of his trench coat rang with each step, “That’s a painful way to go.”
The man stared down at his body.
A moment of silence.
“It’s beautiful.”
Yoongi looked at the man, horrified.
“I’ve done this before, it was my signature actually, suffocate pretty young girls after I’ve had my way with them,” he knelt down next to his body, “I always thought they were beautiful with their mascara smeared and their red lipstick and purple tongue sticking out, they were lovely.”
Yoongi trembled.
“But now that I’ve seen myself like this… I’m a masterpiece compared to them,” he turned to Yoongi, “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Yoongi’s seen his bodies before, young girls with no options in life except to sell themselves, looking at their strangled body with tears running down their eyes. Their lives were too short, Yoongi had pitied them.
He felt no pity for this one.
Now the uncomfortable atmosphere made sense. This man didn’t rue his death.
“I should have done this to my boss, he would have looked beautiful,” the man wistfully.
Yoongi felt sick, “Let’s go.”
“Yoongi?”
Yoongi turned to the voice.
Jimin. Jimin fresh from a shower with his hair still damp, and his skin clean, and fluffy towel wrapped around his neck. He looked warm, comfortable.
Yoongi felt a surge in his chest. It couldn’t mean anything, there was no heart there, but he felt the ghost of it.
“Hey Jiminnie,” Yoongi smiled.
Jimin smiled back, eyes curved into black crescents.
But then Yoongi remembered. He blinked and looked at the body behind him. The plastic bag over the man’s head.
Once is an accident. Twice is curiosity. Third time’s a habit.
Yoongi remembered the words but not the place or the person. They ringed in the back of his mind as Yoongi looked back at Jimin, nervous Jimin whose toes were curling into the floor. He looked ten, he looked twenty seven, young and naïve, grown up and independent, all at once.
The third time Yoongi has completed an assignment, and Jimin was in the same room.
Yoongi swallowed, “Jimin, did you do this?”
The smile on Jimin’s face faded, his pose became cautious, “I wanted to see you.”
Yoongi’s wings feel heavy on his back.
“You shouldn’t want that…” his voice trailed.
“But I do,” Jimin said in a small voice.
“You shouldn’t you should want a promotion or a family, not me!” Yoongi shouted, his body was shaking, this can’t happen, shouldn’t be happening.
“You are worth it,” Jimin shouts back, “You were always worth it.”
Jimin’s breath was labored.
Yoongi stared.
Jimin reached out to touch him, but before he could Yoongi grabbed the man, not the victim he wasn’t a victim, and disappeared.
The hallway was red and hot to the touch, just as Yoongi expected.
“The man who killed you, what do you know about him?” Yoongi asked.
The guy was sweating from the heat of the walls, “He emailed me, said there was this pretty little whore we could share and kill. But then, well, you saw what he did to me.”
It wasn’t a senseless death, Jimin had planned it. But a homicide was a homicide, despite good intentions.
The guy gripped at his throat, “Can we leave now?”
Yoongi smirked, “Sure.”
They walked down the tunnel, where the ending was more painful than the guy could hope to imagine.
The thought made Yoongi smile, briefly, after this there was still Jimin...
Title: Painted Red
Pairing: female Yoongi/female Seokjin, ft Hoseok, ft Nam Joon
Word count: 1.3k
Prompt: Yoongi meets a fan after a concert, a really attractive fan.
A fulfilled request for bunnyford
“Hi,” she held out her hand in front of Yoongi, “I’m Seokjin.”
She had long red hair that spilled down her back.
Yoongi shook her hand, “I’m Yoongi.”
Her eyes were hard diamonds, the kind that cut glass, the kind that break skin.
“I saw your performance, Satoori Rap.”
Her fingertips like knives, in that brief moment they touched, they left deep impressions on Yoongi’s skin.
“It’s rare to see a female rapper, especially one that keeps up with seasoned veterans like Jhope and Rap Monster.”
She smirked, red painted on big pouting lips.
“I was impressed.”
She had legs that went on for miles. Unblemished skin, or what looked unblemished under the dim lights of the club, stretched across thighs the outline of calf muscle, white pants that were barely long enough to be called shorts. She wore heels even though she was already tall. And Yoongi would complain about life not being fair, if she didn’t want to bury her face between Seokjin thighs and leave bruises in her path.
They ended up behind the bar, past the stage, past the manager’s office, in the private bathroom in the furthermost corner of the club. Somewhere dark and hidden. Yoongi “borrowed” the keys, locked the door, just in case, just to be sure.
Their kisses were messy, desperate, too much teeth, too fast. Seokjin pressed Yoongi against the wall. One hand was pulling Yoongi’s hair, uncovering her neck so that Seokjin could bite into it. The other hand was under Yoongi’s shirt, pressing a warm palm into her back. Seokjin’s touch burned from where it pushed them closer together.
This wasn’t enough. Yoongi flipped them, pressed Seokjin against the wall, had a firm grip on her wrist and held it in place. Seokjin’s breathing was hard, Yoongi felt each rise and fall against her chest. She was beautiful like this, sweat dripping down her face, eyes heavy, eyeliner smeared. Yoongi kissed her, slower than their first hungry kiss but just as bruising. Because Seokjin, Seokjin, had beautiful lips, the kind seen in lipstick commercials, the kind that Yoongi wants pressed against her skin. In this moment Yoongi had Seokjin’s bottom lip between her teeth, red lipstick staining her own mouth. She didn’t care, it wasn’t enough. She experimentally rubbed her hips against Seokjin’s. The reaction, Seokjin’s reaction, she moaned, Yoongi felt it. The sound went straight down her spine.
Yoongi loosened her grip on Seokjin’s wrist, it was limp in her hand. Yoongi brought it down, left it loose, and placed both of her hands on Seokjin’s hips. She stood on her tiptoes, Seokjin was too god damn tall, and gave her a hungry kiss. A trail of spit connected them when they separated. Yoongi stared at Seokjin's face, was too entranced by her diamond eyes, by her abused red lips, the pretty pink blush on her cheeks. Yoongi placed kisses on the underside of Seokjin’s jaw. “Can I,” her hands tugged at Seokjin’s shirt. Seokjin laughed, it broke off to a moan when Yoongi bit down on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “Of course,” her words were breathless, “so polite.” One hand went up Seokjin’s spine, following each bump, teased at the back of her lace bra, while the other pressed into her hip. Yoongi pressed a kiss to the new bruise, “I’m nothing if not a gentleman.” Seokjin laughed again, heavy lidded gaze glued to Yoongi, “I’m not looking for a gentleman,” her hand went to Yoongi’s breast and squeezed.
Yoongi knows. Gentlemen don’t go to bathroom stalls. Gentlemen have fancy dinners and jewelry and roses and hot tubs and soft king sized beds. Yoongi will have to remember that, start making ideas for next time. Because Seokjin was pulling on her hair and kissing her lips, and Yoongi unconsciously wrapped her arms around Seokjin’s waist, so that their chests pressed together. Yoongi felt every breath every moan vibrate against her ribs, and isn’t ready, might never be ready to give that all up.
~~
And the next afternoon when Yoongi met Nam Joon and Hoseok at Denny’s, a post performance ritual of theirs, she pulled up her phone and showed them the photos of Seokjin, asleep on her bed, and showed them the collar of her white shirt, where Seokjin’s red lipstick stained, and said, “Sorry I ditched you last night, but I had important things to attend to.”
Hoseok threw his fries at her, Nam Joon muttered into his coke, something about Yoongi taking all the hot ones. They both agreed that she should pay for the three of them.
She was in too good of a mood to protest, so she paid.
~~
That happened years ago.
In this moment, Yoongi was typing away diligently on her computer. She had a paper due in two weeks, a song and its association with a historical event. She chose “Revolution 9” by the Beatles, for it's relationship with Charles Manson, a suggestion from Seokjin.
Seokjin herself was asleep next to her. It was late, the turned on lamp came from Yoongi’s bedside table. Seokjin had asked her to go to sleep. Yoongi insisted she worked better at night. Seokjin pouted, and dragged her to the bedroom, insisted she work there. Yoongi protested, she’d keep Seokjin awake. Seokjin didn’t care.
She slept facing Yoongi, curled up in the sheets, with one hand on Yoongi's thigh, her long recently dyed purple hair spilling over the pillow and sheets. Yoongi’s own hair had been cropped short, and dyed red. “I needed a change,” she had insisted the first time Seokjin saw it, when she arrived at their apartment after her late night criminology lecture. Turns out Seokjin liked this hair better. It was easier for her to run her fingers through, to massage the back of Yoongi’s head when they’re sitting together watching TV. And as Yoongi leaned into Seokjin's hand, she wondered why she didn’t cut her hair sooner.
It was the end of summer, right before autumn’s breeze arrived to relieve them of the overbearing heat. Seokjin never slept with a shirt in the summer. Yoongi could see the bruises on her collarbone from when Yoongi was a little too enthusiastic the other night. Seokjin had whined, “We’re not teenagers anymore.”
“But you’re still hot,” Yoongi wrapped her arms around Seokjin’s waist, “how else are people supposed to know you’re mine?”
“Promise rings, couple shirts, anything besides hickeys,” Seokjin pouted.
Yoongi laughed.
Seokjin glared.
Yoongi kissed her, “They’re lovebites.”
Seokjin sighed against her lips, “Like that makes a difference.”
Seokjin still wore heels, even though she was impossibly tall. But Yoongi didn’t mind, in fact she loved it. when they were walking downtown, or in the mall, or even on those rare venturous nights, when they go to a club downtown, and Seokjin wears the little black dress, and paints on the smoky eyes, and leaves red lipstick kisses on Yoongi’s pale skin for everyone to see, Yoongi loved it all.
Yoongi pushed back Seokjin’s bangs, felt the soft strands with her fingertips, and watched as they fell back into place on Seokjin’s forehead. Yoongi smiled. She closed her laptop, she turned off the lamplight, she lay down facing Seokjin. Yoongi grabbed Seokjin’s hand, the one that had been on her thigh, intertwined their fingers, fell asleep looking at their bare hands, and wondered if matching gold rings were out of her budget.
Title: Mending a Tear
Pairing: past Yoongi/female Hoseok, ft female Nam Joon, ft female Jungkook, hinted female Yoongi/female Jimin
Word count: 1.7k
Summary: As much as Yoongi would love to visit her hometown, something keeps holding her back. (aka Yoongi's coming out story) set in the same universe as this
“Really?” Yoongi asked in a monotonous tone, laced with disbelief.
“Really!” Nam Joon insisted on the other line.
Yoongi kicked her legs against the wall. She was laying down on her bed - okay not a bed, more like a mattress on the floor- with her feet propped on the wall and a book on her stomach. This was how she read, since she was nine years old and realized you could read while laying down, the ultimate form of laziness. She spoke into the receiver, “Pics or it didn’t happen.”
“I don’t have it with me,” Nam Joon groaned, “I just got off work.”
“Excuses,” Yoongi turned to the next page of her book.
Nam Joon groaned, “I’ll be home in a few minutes.”
“Whatever,” Yoongi hung up.
Ten minutes later, Nam Joon sent her photos of her acceptance letter her number one choice for University. The one Yoongi attended.
Yoongi shut her book and immediately called back, “Holy shit you did.”
“If you could do it, I can do it,” Nam Joon said. Yoongi knew that tone, the same smug tone that Nam Joon has when she’s proud of herself.
Yoongi glared at a spot on her ceiling, “What’s that supposed to mean.”
“My GPA is better than yours was, and I got top ten in my graduating class. How did you rank?”
Yoongi willed the spot to set on fire, “Like it matters,” she changed topics, “Do you want to be my roommate? You and me in my shitty apartment, maybe together we’ll have enough money for furniture.”
“You mean you don’t like your striped lawn chairs?” Nam Joon mocked
Yoongi looked at her empty bedroom, where textbooks were stacked against the wall for lack of a desk or bookshelf. “They’re nice,” false, they were ugly, “but a couch would be nicer.”
Nam Joon laughed, she has an ugly laugh, too loud too throaty, but Yoongi found herself laughing too.
“I would, but I already promised Hoseok we’d get an apartment together.
Yoongi froze.
“You’ll come and visit us, right?”
Yoongi swallowed, “Every weekend.”
She promised to go to Nam Joon’s cousin’s basketball game with them next weekend, and to help them go apartment hunting the weekend after that.
She hung up the line. She stared at her feet, striped socks still propped on the wall, and waited for veins to warm again. It’s been over a year since she last saw Hoseok, had that been enough? Judging by the goosebumps on her skin, no. But she already promised, and she could never break a promise.
Yoongi closed her eyes and tried to forget a long face that smiled with too many teeth. It wasn’t working.
She curled up under the sheet. She didn’t want to walk all the way across the room to turn off the light switch, so she covered her head with the sheet. Maybe sleep will be enough.
~~
It had been a casual comment almost two years ago, some lingering sentence, just barely audible in the roar of the cafeteria, interrupting Yoongi’s thoughts
“Will you be my first lesbian kiss?” Hoseok asked.
Yoongi choked on her Pepsi.
“Now?” Yoongi looked at her, wide eyed and blushing.
“Not now,” Hoseok pushed a lock of her shoulder length black hair behind her ear, “But you know, sometime before you graduate.”
“Why don’t you ask Nam Joon? The actual lesbian,” Yoongi asked.
Hoseok moved the vegetables on her tray with her fork, separating the cauliflower from everything else. “Because Nam Joon knows what she’s doing,” Hoseok said casually, “And I’ve known you longer.”
Yoongi had been her mentor in middle school, and then again in high school. Hoseok looked up, her eyeliner was too thick, it looked like a five year old used a thick black sharpie to outline her eyes. “Please,” Hoseok pouted.
Yoongi sighed, “Fine.”
Hoseok smiled, a full heart shaped smile, “Thanks.”
It didn’t happen that day. Or week.
After a month Yoongi forgot about the promise.
She started dating a boy, one with an asian fetish that had Sailor Moon screenshots hidden in a secret folder on his phone. Yoongi wasn’t in love, but she was bored and, well, he was there and willing.
Hoseok, too, had a boyfriend, but when did she not? When did she not have some poor boy carrying her backpack across the school, or sitting next to her in the art room of the teen center across town?
It was on an unsuspecting winter afternoon that Yoongi was reminded of her promise, when she stepped out of the music room and into the art room for a break, where Hoseok was sitting their making a mess of the paints.
“Hey,” she smiled at Yoongi.
Yoongi groaned, and fell face first on the table.
“So do you want to kiss me today?” Hoseok asked.
Yoongi sat upright immediately.
Hoseok’s boyfriend stared wide eyed at her.
“What?” Yoongi spluttered.
“Remember, I asked you at the beginning of the year?”
The memory flooded back, the cafeteria, the coke, the dumb cauliflower that Hoseok hated.
Yoongi tugged on her red beanie, “I need to catch the next bus. Tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Hoseok smiled.
Yoongi gave a curt nod in response. She walked to the entrance, only to see the bus driving off. It had arrived early today. The next one won’t come for another forty minutes.
Yoongi took two tests that morning, one for AP Biology and the other for Calculus AB, and was fried from working on her latest song. She blamed exhaustion for her poor decision making. She blamed exhaustion for actions, for making her walk back to the art room, for saying an abrupt, “Let’s get this over with,” for striding up to Hoseok, cupping her face, and pressing their lips together.
Maybe Hoseok had wanted something simple, a chaste kiss, a barely there touch. But her lips were soft on Yoongi’s, and Yoongi pressed hard. Nibbled on her lip and swallowed her gasp. Hoseok was soft, so soft, and her mouth was warm, and that warmth spread through Yoongi’s body. She pressed harder, had Hoseok sitting back on her chair, with Yoongi practically on her lap.
Someone gasped, and the trance was broken.
Yoongi pulled back. Hoseok’s lips were red and swollen and her cheeks were pink and god Yoongi wanted to kiss her again. But there was the boyfriend in the chair next to them, smiling.
“Wow.”
Yoongi turned, and there was some blonde freshman sitting across the table. Yoongi hadn’t noticed him when she walked in but there he was, with the biggest grin on his face.
Yoongi felt her face heat up. She stepped away from Hoseok, ran a hand through her own bangs. “There,” she said to the floor, “Your first lesbian kiss.”
Hoseok smiled at her, “You’re a good kisser. I’m jealous of your boyfriend.”
Yoongi had forgotten about him, had forgotten about everyone, everyone except Hoseok.
“The bus is coming soon, I should go,” Yoongi made her way out of the room. And on the ride hime. She thought about pink lips pressed against hers.
Yoongi’s boyfriend found out before she could tell him. The blonde freshmen happened to ride the same bus as him, and announced the next morning, “I heard your girlfriend’s a lesbian.”
The kid got punched in the face and Yoongi got the silent treatment for a week.
Three weeks later she found out he had been cheating on her for almost the entirety of their relationship.
But by that time Hoseok was dating some girl from the ROTC class.
“She looks hot in her uniform,” Hoseok said with a smirk.
“All soldiers look good in uniform,” Yoongi mumbled.
“And she’s good with her fingers.”
Yoongi didn’t need to know that, didn’t need to know anything about any of the girls, or guys, Hoseok was with. But Hoseok shared, because Yoongi was her best friend and didn’t tell her how she still felt the ghost of their kiss before she went to sleep.
When Yoongi graduated she stopped talking to Hoseok. She deleted her facebook, blocked Hoseok’s number, and found an apartment and job by her university. And waited for the jealous feelings to disappear.
~~
Yoongi hadn’t visited the high school since her graduation.
It still had the horribly racist Apache mascot, the ugly maroon and gold bleachers in the gym, and the same PTA Mom running the concession stand.
The mural was new though.
So was Nam Joon’s bleached white hair.
“You finally visited us,” she greeted Yoongi with a hug.
On a normal day Yoongi hated people touching her, but it’s been so long since she last saw Nam Joon. She smiled fondly, “Yeah well…”
“I thought you were avoiding me.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened. Nam Joon let go and stepped to the side, so that Yoongi could see Hoseok. Her black hair was longer, it stopped at her waist now. And her eyeliner was still thick, but it was steady. And she had the familiar heart shaped smiled.
Yoongi didn’t feel any of her former animosity, only warmth. “I was avoiding you,” Yoongi held out her arms, “but I’m over it now.”
Hoseok tackled her in a hug, she cried into Yoongi’s hair. Really it had been too long since she last saw Hoseok, since she last saw her best friend. And Yoongi didn’t feel the thrumming heartbeat of a first crush, just the joy of seeing a friend. And then Nam Joon joined their group hug and Yoongi felt like she was home again.
Jungkook saved them spots on the bleacher.
"Jungkookie," Hoseok waved.
"Hoe-seok," Jungkook said.
Hoseok glared.
Jungkook stuck her tongue out.
“Hey punk,” Yoongi leaned over Nam Joon to greet her, “long time no see.”
Jungkook scoffed. She unlocked her phone and began scrolling.
“Ignore her, she just got her braces today,” Nam Joon patted her back.
Jungkook pouted.
“I thought we were here for her basketball game?” Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed.
“I hate basketball,” Jungkook scoffed.
Nam Joon rolled her eyes, “I said my cousin’s friend’s basketball game.”
“Which one is the friend?” Yoongi turned to the court.
“Jimin, the short one with the muscles,” Jungkook answered.
Yoongi spotted her, all tan skin and toned body with her long hair tied in a ponytail, just as Hoseok said, “The hot one.”
Yoongi had to agree.