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bts first anniversary fic fest - fill post (OPEN)

☆ FILL POST ☆
info post / contact a mod / prompt compilation

This is the post where you can submit any fills. A fill is a piece of fic (or art!) which responds to a prompt. How a prompt is interpreted is up to you! Feel free to combine multiple prompts into a single fill.

You can post as many fills as you like anytime starting on May 22, but comments will be screened until Bangtan's first debut anniversary on June 12. You do not need a DW to post- you can comment anonymously or comment using OpenID. You also have the option of emailing fills to the mod (bangtanexchange@gmail.com) and having them post for you.

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As you can see, fills will be unscreened on June 12th, but there will be an additional week (12-19th) to post any late or extra fills.

Posting is open from May 21 (12 AM KST) to June 19 (11:59 PM KST)
Comments will be unscreened on June 12, 12 AM KST

Posting is now open!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Title: my first kiss went a little like this
Pairing (or character): rapmon/supreme boi
Warnings: - (pg-13)
Prompt: Rap Monster/Supreme Boi (DNH) - attempted first kiss. (470w)

Namjoon has never seen Donghyuk's face this up close before.

Sure, they've passed out on-top-of-next-to each other after all-nighters at the studio, after one too many celebratory soju shots, but this is awake, conscious Donghyuk, nose less than a centimeter away from Namjoon's, close enough so Namjoon can see exactly where the bruised skin of his eye bags end. The fabric of his shirt is soft under Namjoon's hands, but his shoulders feel sharp, bony.

When he laughs, Namjoon can feel the puff of air on his skin. "Are you gonna do this or not? The others are gonna be back soon."

Namjoon rolls his eyes. "You seem awfully excited about this."

"Well," Donghyuk says brightly, and it's weird, because his breath tickles when they're this close, "I saw you chewing gum earlier, so I'm not preoccupied with worrying about your breath stinking."

Namjoon's sure if he pouts at this distance, his lip will touch Donghyuk's, so he doesn't. "I'm not the one who always eats those garlic-flavored-"

"Shut up; don't nag like Ikje-hyung," Donghyuk interrupts.

Namjoon laughs, and Donghyuk must feel it, too, because he wrinkles his nose and bumps it against Namjoon's.

"Ow," Namjoon complains.

"I'm sure that didn't hurt," Donghyuk sighs, bumping noses again. "Don't be a wimp. Hurry up. You think I'm going to wait around all day?"

"Alright, alright," Namjoon acquiesces, readjusting his grip on Donghyuk's shoulders. He pauses. "Okay. Fuck."

Donghyuk looks him in the eye, and even though Namjoon can't see his entire face, he knows Donghyuk is struggling to hold in a grin. Namjoon wants to butt him in the head in retaliation, but he frowns instead and leans in, tilting his head.

Which is, of course, the exact moment that Sungkyum chooses to shove the door open, causing both of them to startle and fly apart into their respective seats, scrambling for something they can look productive with.

"Whoops," Sungkyum says, "I take that back. I'll close the door. We'll walk back out the building and then come back in."

"Be quiet," Namjoon laughs, a little too loud, at the same time Donghyuk protests, "Shut up!"

Hunchul peeks over Sungkyum's shoulder. "Did we interrupt something? See, I told you we should've texted that we were on our way back-"

"Shut up shut up shut up," Donghyuk laughs. "You're the worst, hyung."

Later, while Sungkyum and Hunchul are hunched over a sheet of lyrics together, Donghyuk elbows Namjoon and makes a kissy face, getting a punch on the arm for his trouble.

Then Namjoon's phone buzzes and he picks it up to look at the screen: I'll let you try again some other time.

Namjoon laughs, and Donghyuk tries to stick the point of his pencil into his dimple, but ends up getting shoved halfway across the room on his rolling chair.

Title: There's no way something this sweet can be bad for me
Pairing (or character): Jin/Suga
Prompt: Suga/Jin - bakery au! jin owns a bakery and suga is his favorite customer

Fresh Bakery is such a simple, lame name of a bakery. It’s not like Seokjin disapproved when his grandpa had decided on the name during the opening, but now that he has fully inherited it to his name, it sounds far worse than the first time he heard it. And also, the freshly baked bread and cake for family line under the dull title, he also wants to erase it.
There are so many things he wants to change, but he can’t help to love this place; the smell of fresh pastries every morning and the busy kitchen when the breads are finished, he loves the same routines he wakes up to. He also knows most of the costumers already, the aunties from his neighborhood who always praises his face, a young mother who comes with her son and complains about the price from time to time, and then this one man that stuck in his head every time he sees him sauntering into the bakery.
His ears perk up when he hears the lazy footsteps entering the shop, and the tired sigh next to his ear before the guy asks him to recommend him the menu for that day. He always looks sleepy, but Seokjin likes the attitude the man has towards the people who throw him weird looks (because his clothes, who the hell wears such thick clothing during summer) and also how the male holds the croissant in between his teeth while he rummages his backpack for money.
“Rough night, Min Yoongi?”
A grunt is the only respond come from the man, along with a glare when he gives the changes. “Mind your own business, Kim.” Seokjin doesn’t take offense from the unfriendliness, though, because Yoongi has that small smirk playing on his lips when he leaves.
The only difficult part for this whole business is when he has to make new variations for his pastries. One of the aunties had said that it’s getting boring to eat the same thing for breakfast, and he thinks that oh right, why don’t I make some new things? He is the new owner of the bakery anyway. He can live up to the name.
He thought that he has done well, he thought, but when he puts his new creation on the display, right under the name of ‘new recommendation’ on the counter, he gets an unexpected feedback first thing after he opens the bakery.
“It tastes grumpy.”
Seokjin frowns. “What kind of flavor is that?”
“Exactly.” His indifference almost drives the baker around the edge, but at least Yoongi pays, and he finishes the purplish colored muffin right there when he pays for it. Sweet potato and banana. Now that he thinks about it again, it is indeed a weird mix of taste.
In just two weeks, Seokjin has made Min Yoongi a personal taster of his new recipes.
There’s a small thought in the back of his head that he must be a masochist. Yoongi never holds back with his comments. His cheesy apple turnover makes me wants to turn over for real, he said. His matcha meringue pie tastes like sandy forest, and his lemon spinach quiche made Yoongi ask for his money back. He didn’t give it back, of course, but Yoongi still comes nonetheless.
It’s Saturday morning when he decides that he is so going to make Yoongi approve his work this time. The row of chocolate muffins are still steaming after he takes the pan off from the oven, and he is still wearing the apron, that pink apron, when he hears the ting of the bell atop the front door, followed by the oh-so-familiar figure strolling into the place.
He ignores the fact that the bakery is not officially opened yet for the day and places one of the chocolate muffins on a plate, pushing it towards the male sitting behind the counter separating them.
“So you can make normal stuff, after all. I don’t see the need for you to torture my poor tongue anymore.”
Yoongi devours the cake by small bites, as he does usually, while Seokjin goes to prepare for the opening of the bakery. He only rushes back to his working space when he hears a surprised noise of ‘what the fuck is this?’ coming from his only guest and almost bursts into laughter catching the sight before him.
“I forgot to tell you about the filling.”
Yoongi watches him with narrowed eyes, clearly irate. He brings the hands that are cupping the muffin away from him with his thumb and index finger, almost insulting if it’s not for his amusing stank face. There’s a line of yellowish, sizzling sauce drips down from the corner of his lips to his chin, almost trailing down his creamy neck to his white dress shirt if only Seokjin didn’t catch it in time with the napkin.
“Did you ever taste your food for once, Kim Seokjin? Look at this, so awful,” Yoongi places the muffin back on the plate and gestures towards the gooey orange cream left on his fingers. He just has to make it more solid for the real recipe, Seokjin decides, but then maybe the taste shouldn’t be that bad because Yoongi is currently licking it off his fingers.
He is like a kid, mused Seokjin as he leans forward, trying to wipe it off the male’s cheek only to get his hand swatted away the moment he touches a chewy cheek. Oh, he’s lucky that Seokjin is used to this adorably rude attitude, nothing new.
“It tastes like orange juice being injected to a muffin. Not quite like it. Maybe it’s more like orange scented perfume being sprayed all over the brownies.”
Seokjin scowls. “You should just stop talking for once,” because the way those lips keep on moving make the leftover sauce that left on the corner of those pink lips about to drip down again.
Yoongi seems like he is about to throw more snarky remarks, but Seokjin takes a proper action in stopping that. Very proper. Those mentioned lips finally stayed shut when Seokjin leans forward to lick the orange scented substance off his skin. Skin, he assured himself, because it’s only on the corner of his mouth.
“It actually tastes nice.”
For once, Min Yoongi is in loss of words. Seokjin walks over to the cashier to serve the other guests that already start to come, but he can’t miss the way pink starts to get in the pale skin of Yoongi’s cheeks. Even though he is busy smiling and chatting to the costumer, he can still catch Yoongi’s gaze on him before the guy scrambles off his seat, flustered, and leaves the place without any more saying.
He never regrets it, even if Yoongi skips a whole week from coming to the bakery and missed the new recipes Seokjin managed to nail during weekend. He suspects that it is only Yoongi being over choosy towards food because this high school boy named Taehyung likes his lemon quiche so much and his friend Jungkook also praises his new raspberry cobbler.
The food terrorism, as Yoongi had named his attempt to make new recipes, unexpectedly make the bakery a lot more famous instead. It seems like people like the variations, or maybe they just like Seokjin’s face. Taehyung brings some girls from his high school and woah, they even like the turnover.
When he thinks about it again, it must be because he fixed the recipes already, and that only happened after Yoongi’s comments. He can’t be more thankful to that guy. Only that it’s been long since Yoongi shows up and it starts to get lonely for him.
“Cherry bomb is such an awful name.” That’s the first thing Yoongi said when he pays a visit again.
It’s a busy Sunday morning and Seokjin almost didn’t spot him until he brings a whole tray of his new creations to the cashier, greeted by Seokjin’s smile that’s immediately claimed annoying by the male.
“I got summer fever, for your information, it’s not like something happened that I didn’t want to come here or what,” Yoongi said without being asked, faked nonchalance dripping on his tone. Seokjin only snorts, nodding slowly with an overly soft ‘yes, Min Yoongi-ssi, glad that you’re all fine now’.
“I can’t wait to make a full list of the things I don’t like from these. Please expect,” said Yoongi with a cheeky grin when he takes the box. The playful crinkle on his eyes takes Seokjin’s breath away from a second and before he knows it, Yoongi already left.
There are some people already waiting to have their orders placed, but Seokjin apologized for them instead as he chases after Yoongi who’s already out from the bakery.
Yoongi clearly didn’t expect it when he calls out for him.
“You can complain to me after every bite of each of them, as usual, costumer-nim,” Seokjin shows a messily scribbled row of numbers on top of a piece of paper and swiftly slips it into the pocket of Yoongi’s jacket, ignoring the bewildered look that’s still plastered on the hazelnut haired man’s face.
“I’m available mostly on evening, well, if you want to know, I can even help you clean your mouth again if you call me over,” that might have gone overboard, but he takes amusement in scanning how the same pink tint starts to reach Yoongi’s cheeks again and he figured that he should leave immediately before he has to listen to some sorry excuses by Min Yoongi.

omg thank you so much for this!!! i'm dying at jin experimenting with pastries and it turning out unexpectedly well?? lmao i really loved their banter in this and ahh this was all just so so so cute :') food terrorist jin is my favorite n_n

Title: Flow
Pairing (or character): J-Hope/Suga
Warnings: n/a
Prompt: J-hope finds it hard to write lyrics and he gives up easily

Dance was easy, because it only had the limitations of Hoseok’s body and physical capabilities. He could feel the flow of his movement and picture himself perfectly from every angle. To Hoseok, dancing was as natural as walking.

Unfortunately, lyrics were different, and it frustrated the hell out of him. His words sounded bland, or unnatural, or simply didn’t convey a feeling that matched the track. He could rap any verse with confidence, navigating tongue twisters without slipping in a way that made other rappers take note. But when he was off the stage and in the studio, sitting by himself with that blank page staring back at him, he felt hopeless. More often than not, he would give up and head back to the dorms with nothing but a page full of scratched out words and incoherent rhymes.

“In order to write something meaningful, you need to have experiences,” Yoongi explained to him once, looking over his chicken scratch with an objective, non-judgmental eye. That was one of the things that Hoseok really liked about him – he kept things real. He wouldn’t insult another’s work just to boost his own self-esteem, but he wasn’t afraid to tell one of the members what they needed to practice, either. “You’re writing about love. You need to draw on the experiences you’ve had dating. Capture the feeling and try to find the words to express it. You can’t be too technical. Sometimes you just have to…you know, go with it.”

Hoseok frowned, pulling his knees against his chest as he stared across the space between their beds, watching Yoongi type away on his laptop. He couldn’t think of much to say, besides, “Why do they make us sign a no-dating contract, then? Seems kind of counterproductive.”

Hoseok watched Yoongi close his laptop, sliding it under his pillow and rolling over onto his back. He closed his eyes, a little smirk plainly visible on his bare face. “Because we look good as eligible bachelors,” he half-joked, eyes fluttering open to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder how we’re supposed to get any experiences to write on. Cling to any bit of inspiration that you get, I guess…”

Hoseok nodded, rolling on his side to face Yoongi. He wasn’t sure what to say, what to make of it all – but he kept himself calm and quiet, weary eyes taking in the other rapper’s form as he relaxed. Pale skin and dark hair. It was a combination he’d always loved.

Do you taste as sweet as you look? The sentence sprung into Hoseok’s mind out of nowhere, but rather than embarrassment or disgust (both would have been equally appropriate in response to such a clichéd sentence), he clung to the words that had drifted through his mind. They had a feel to them, a flavor. Cloyingly sweet, romantic, hopeful. He shifted in his bed to grab his notebook, opening up to a fresh page and scrawling the sentence across the top.

He snuck another peek at Yoongi, taking in all that he could. Perfectly flawless skin, without a single blemish; smooth, pink lips, still turned up in the tiniest of smiles; dark brown hair mussed across his forehead.

For the first time that he could remember, the lyrics began to flow.

Do you taste as sweet as you look? omg how could you??? but FEEELS omg that one is so cute :'|
I enjoyed it! thanks for writing the prompt ♡

Title: untitled
Pairing (or character): Jimin/Suga
Warnings: n/a
Prompt: where Yoongi realises he takes too many photos of Jimin.

Usually, if Jimin saw Yoongi readying the camera, he’d immediately jump in front of the lens and strike a pose. Based on this fact alone, Yoongi has more pictures of Jimin than he cares to admit – Jimin smiling, Jimin pulling the ugliest faces that he can, Jimin hugging his members, Jimin with his mouth stuffed full of food, the list goes on. Yoongi was actually quite certain that he had far too many pictures of Jimin.

Still, this one would have been perfect. Laying in the bed beside Jimin’s, he was just close enough to appreciate the way the moonlight hit the younger man’s skin, deepening the shadows but illuminating other parts into pale, glowing brilliance. He liked the curve of Jimin’s mouth into the slightest of smiles, obviously very comfortable and content, and the shock of black hair in a mess atop his head. He liked the smooth shoulders that peeked out from beneath his blanket, bare aside from the straps of the undershirt that he wore to bed. Jimin was always adorable when he slept, but very rarely could Yoongi say that he looked downright beautiful. The thought made his ears burn.

In the bunk above him, Namjoon let out a particularly loud snore, and Yoongi scowled in annoyance, fighting the urge to kick the underside of his mattress – but when Jimin shifted restlessly beside him, he quickly closed his eyes and feigned unconsciousness. Sure, he could always just say that he couldn’t fall asleep, but Yoongi had never been a good liar.

Jimin’s bed frame creaked a bit as the boy rolled onto his side to face Yoongi. The rapper could almost picture him lying there, looking at him with drowsy bedroom eyes that were sexy without even trying.

“Hyung…” The soft whisper nearly made Yoongi jump, but he managed to keep still. It was almost inaudible, but he knew for sure that it was Jimin. “You look so cute like that.”

At this point, Yoongi was just praying that his blush wasn’t noticeable on his pale face – he was almost certain that would get him busted. But if Jimin noticed anything, he didn’t vocalize it. Yoongi heard him shifting again in his bed, and the elder’s heart raced as he frantically tried to figure out what Jimin was going to do.

The next sound that met his ears was the artificial shutter sound of Jimin’s phone camera. His face felt like it was burning with the intensity of his blush, especially as Jimin chuckled. “Cute,” he repeated in a whisper, a note of affection in his sleepy voice.

Yoongi waited for several minutes that felt like an eternity, listening as Jimin got comfortable once again. The room was silent, save for the snores and deep breaths of the members that surrounded them. When it felt safe again, he opened his eyes once more, smiling at the sight of Jimin dozing.

He had to wait, he reminded himself, until he was sure that Jimin was 100% asleep. He didn’t want to wake the younger boy when he snatched the phone from beside his pillow and deleted the photo of himself. In the meantime, as quietly as humanly possible, he took his camera from its hiding place beneath his bed, aimed it at Jimin, and began adjusting to find the perfect focus.

Because really, he reassured himself, if you think about it, there’s no such thing as “too many pictures” of Jimin.

This is so adorable. <3 I'm hoping we get to see these pictures in the future twitter wars kekekee~~
great job!

Title: First Words
Pairing (or character): Jin/Rap Monster
Warnings: n/a
Prompt: They meet at the same bus stop every day, but never talk. AU.

They meet at the same bus stop every day, but never talk.

Seokjin keeps his eyes down, gaze fixated on the pages of a book or the screen of his phone, even though it’s so early in the morning, he doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be texting. In between turning pages or tapping buttons, he sneaks peeks at the man who stands just a few feet away, his eyes eating up the familiar features.

He’s younger, wearing a high school uniform, but he looks older and more mature than Seokjin. His features are strong and distinctive – a masculine face, with dark eyebrows and full lips and a deep dimple on his cheek. He wears ear buds, and Seokjin can faintly hear the beat of a hip-hop song leaking from them if he sits on the bench beside him.

Still, though he always gives a quick glance and a polite smile, they never talk, and Seokjin wants them to.

x

They meet at the same bus stop every day, but never talk.

He doesn’t seem like the type who would even give Namjoon the time of day, but he can’t help it – the high school student is enamored by the stranger’s face. His skin is as pale and smooth as porcelain, his wide brown eyes remind him uncannily of a doll, and his full pink lips look completely and utterly kissable. The first time they’re accidentally crammed together on the crowded bus, Namjoon notices just how good the man’s cologne smells, and he walks around feeling vaguely intoxicated for the rest of the day.

Even if Namjoon were attractive enough to pick up someone so gorgeous (he wasn’t delusional, he knew he was subpar at best), the man was definitely older, judging by the college level textbooks he sometimes spotted him reading when the bus was empty and he had a place to sit. He wondered, without meaning to, what he was studying.

Still, though he always sneaks a million glances and prays for even the slightest invitation, they never talk, and Namjoon wants them to.

x

It’s bound to be a busy day for both of them – for Seokjin, who has an exam in his macroeconomics class that he’s sure he’ll fail, and for Namjoon, who stayed out way too late the night before with his friends, and is paying the price for it now. Seokjin doesn’t spare Namjoon a glance at the bus stop, since he’s too busy trying to reproduce details from his notes in his head. Namjoon doesn’t mind; in fact, he finds himself strangely mesmerized as he sits and watches Seokjin’s lips move as he reads along with the textbook chapter.

Seokjin still notices Namjoon as he gets on the bus. The teen has dark circles under his eyes, and clearly he wants to be anywhere but on his way to school. He feels for the kid, because he can remember high school being brutal. Just to be helpful, he scans the bus for any empty seats that he might be able to point out to him, but the vehicle is so packed that even getting a good spot to stand is a little tricky.

When it’s Namjoon’s stop, Seokjin’s eyes instantly go to him, watching his eyes blink back to focus and his hand run over his messy black hair. As the bus pulls to a stop, Namjoon begins making his way towards the front, and that’s when Seokjin notices the black wallet that slips out of his pocket and falls onto the dirty floor beneath their feet. He hurries to grab for it as Namjoon walks away, earning a glare as he narrowly avoids elbowing a woman in the stomach.

Inside is a school ID card, and that face is unmistakable – dark eyes, dimple prominent even in his forced photograph smile. He’s cute, really cute. Kim Namjoon. Seokjin is about to try the name out on his tongue, but he hears the bus door close, and he quickly stumbles to his feet to run for the exit before the vehicle starts moving again. He steps on some toes, but that’s the least of his concerns.

Namjoon is a good ways ahead of him, nearly to the high school already, and Seokjin has to run to catch him. He hasn’t even thought of what he’s going to say, until he shouts out, “Namjoon! K-Kim Namjoon!” and the student turns to look at him, eyes tired and confused.

When he sees Seokjin, a flash of recognition crosses his face, and his lips quirk up into a little smile. Cute. So cute. Even cuter when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice surprisingly deep and raspy. “Yeah?” It’s enough to give Seokjin chills.

“Y-Your wallet. You dropped it on the bus,” he explained, presenting it to him with a polite bow of his head. He knows he’s older than Namjoon, so he’s not sure why he’s nervous, but he hears his voice tremble a little and he silently curses himself.

“Thank you. Really, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without this,” Namjoon says with a proper smile, taking the wallet from his hands. “This isn’t your stop, though…is it?”

Their eyes lock as the weight of that statement sinks in. Namjoon hopes to God that Seokjin won’t find it weird that he knows that. Seokjin is too busy taking in the nuances of Namjoon’s face, taking this rare opportunity to look at him at first, really look at him. It’s an opportunity that he doesn’t want to waste.

“Would you…would you maybe let me take you out for coffee later?”

It’s too forward. Seokjin realizes it, and his cheeks go red. He’s always been the confident one, he’s never had trouble flirting or asking out girls, but somehow Namjoon erases all that. The kid is tall and intimidating, but it’s more than that. Seokjin can’t help but wonder what his laugh sounds like.

Namjoon is mentally kicking himself for not knowing what else to say, but then Seokjin asks him out – asks him out! – and he tries not to look as shocked, nervous, and giddy as he feels. The doll-faced stranger that he’d been staring every day for weeks…how possible was it that he’d been looking at Namjoon the whole time? He bites down on his lips, showing a nervousness that Namjoon doesn’t expect from him, and it’s all he can do to keep from melting into a figurative pile of goo.

“That sounds nice. But let me pay, since you returned my wallet,” Namjoon replied, sounding a lot cooler and more confident than he felt. Seokjin smiled, and despite his best efforts, Namjoon blushed.

For so long, it had just been silence between them. This would take some getting used to, Namjoon thought, but that was by no means a bad thing.

Awww this is way too cute asdfghjklñ thank you for this

Re: First Words - Jin/Rap Monster

(Anonymous) - 2015-12-07 16:07 (UTC) - Expand

Title: Stranger by the Door
Pairing (or character): V/J-Hope
Prompt: "i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got a dog but i didn't question it) so now i'm hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin" au. (That person would be Taehyung)
Note: BTS, happy first anniversary! ♥

Despite his reluctance to admit it, Hoseok knows that he isn't known for his bravery. His smile can light up a room, the way he moves his body is amazing, he makes great lyrics to his raps–these are the things he's proud to be famous for. But courage isn't one of his fortes, no.

So he doesn't think anyone can blame him if right now he's shrieking, in a very feminine way, slumped on the floor after petting the thing sleeping under a red blanket on his couch, the one he thought was his dog. Except Mickey's hair is brown and not bright orange, and Mickey's eyes are big and round and aren't supposed to be lined with smudged dark eyeliner.

Also he's pretty sure Mickey doesn't have fantastic looking abs, as the thing sits up, blanket falling off of his body, and a deep, hoarse voice says, "Shut up, Jimin! My headache's killing me!"

Mister orange-hair groans and scrunches his face (very adorably, Hoseok might add if only he weren't too busy processing the fact that there is a shirtless stranger on his couch), and slowly opens his eyes. He blinks, staring blankly at the direction of Hoseok, who is still on the floor, propped on two elbows, although no longer shrieking. It takes him five seconds, perhaps, to proceed to looking around Hoseok's apartment, left and right and left and right, and he looks like a lost puppy, and if he weren't a shirtless stranger on the couch, Hoseok would probably approach him and coo at how cute he's being. "Um," Mister nice-abs finally stops looking around and stares straight at Hoseok. "Hi?"

Hoseok doesn't know much about waking up to finding strangers sleeping in the living room, but he's pretty sure Hi isn't normally the first thing to say. "Who are you?" he blurts.

Orange-hair looks at him and makes a silent aah. He stands up, and Hoseok feels a second of conflicted feeling, between being thankful and disappointed, at the fact that nice-abs is wearing pants. He approaches Hoseok to help him stand up then offers his hand. "Taehyung," shirtless stranger says. "My name is Taehyung."

Hoseok is quite sure he's still gaping, because who on earth just randomly sleeps on a stranger's couch and introduces himself in the morning like nothing's happened? He soullessly shakes the hand nice-abs–uh, Taehyung, offered him and replies, "Hoseok."

Taehyung grins, and it's blinding. "Morning, Hoseok-ssi!" he exclaims. "Oh wait, can I call you hyung?"

God is fair, Hoseok concludes, because despite his striking features and his perfect body and how attractive he is, this Taehyung person is very, um, special. And even before Hoseok has the chance to protest about the sudden progression of their relationship, Taehyung is walking towards the kitchen. "Do you have coffee, hyung?" he shouts, looking completely at home. "My hangover is killing me."

Hoseok scurries to follow Taehyung to the kitchen, wondering if he really just met the kid seconds before, because he looks too comfortable in his apartment, and Hoseok, strangely, isn't too bothered by that.

*

Aside from being a tiny bit shameless, and a lot, um, unique, apparently Taehyung is also very talkative. Over coffee and toast, Hoseok finds out that Taehyung was attempting to break in to the apartment next door (for the record, break in was the exact words Taehyung used) where his friend, Jimin, lives. He was drunk, Taehyung claims, and Hoseok finds it alarming that his apartment is so easily broken in by a man who wasn't even sober enough to find the right room to break into. Also, Mickey really needs to do a better job–what's the use of having a dog, really, if any random drunk can enter his apartment and sleep on his couch?

Taehyung finally leaves at 10, when Hoseok declares that he has errands to do, subtly asking his uninvited guest to leave. He lends Taehyung one of his old tees that he never really ever wears anymore, one that he won't miss, because he probably won't ever see Taehyung again.

Although, a teeny tiny part of Hoseok wishes that he will.

*

Wishes do come true, sometimes, because just as Hoseok starts to find it hard to remember what shade of orange Taehyung's hair color is, he sees him again, sitting in front of his door, playing with his DS.

"Hobi hyung!" he greets cheerily when Hoseok reaches the door to his apartment, and Hoseok doesn't even know when they decided on this pet name Taehyung is using. But Taehyung is looking cute, and less distracting with his abs covered, and Hoseok thinks it's not a really bad name, Hobi hyung.

He looks at the orange-haired kid curiously as he greets back. "Taehyung," he says, turning the keys to his apartment. Taehyung is probably there to return his tee, although Hoseok really hopes it's not just that. "Why are you here?"

Taehyung invites himself in, and Hoseok can only chuckle as he closes the door behind him and follows his guest to the living room. He's starting to wonder whose apartment this really is. "I think I left my phone here," he says, looking around the couch he slept on a couple of days ago. Hoseok frowns, watching Taehyung walk around the living room and looking at impossible places such as inside the vase and behind the TV. "Ah, found it!"

Hoseok is sure that he couldn't have overlooked a golden iPhone 5s sitting idly under the coffee table, but he's too careful to assume that this is only Taehyung's scheme to find a reason to see him again. Maybe Taehyung is just weird like that.

"Can I stay for dinner, hyung?" Taehyung asks out of nowhere. "I brought Chinese!" he adds proudly, raising a plastic bag on his hand.

Hoseok laughs. It seems painfully obvious that Taehyung had planned to have dinner there all along. "Sure."

*

Taehyung makes it a habit to appear every once in a while, two portions of dinner on hand and multiple variations of reason escaping his mouth. I was going to visit Jimin but he's not home, Taehyung said last week, but Hoseok swears he could hear his neighbor singing in the shower a couple of minutes later. I left my snapback on your couch, he said the next time, but Hoseok remembers yelling at him the other day, Hey, you forgot your hat! and Taehyung dismissed him, saying he didn't need it anyway.

"I forgot my glasses at your apartment," is Taehyung's reason this time, as he stands up excitedly from his position in front of the door, having waited for Hoseok to come home from work.

Hoseok laughs heartily, unable to hold his amusement any longer, because Taehyung is standing there, in front of his door, wearing his thick-framed specs. Hoseok stops laughing when he notices Taehyung's expression, goofy grin faltering as it turns into a confused pout. He heaves a deep breath and tells Taehyung, "You're wearing your glasses, right there," Hoseok points to his face, smiling.

Taehyung's ears turn red, and Hoseok can barely hold himself from stepping forward and pinch his adorable cheeks, because Taehyung. Is . So. Cute. "Ah, about that," Taehyung stutters.

He looks so pathetically flustered, but Hoseok needs to hear what he has to say, Hoseok needs to know if maybe Taehyung enjoys the nights they have dinner together as much as he does. Hoseok wants to know the real reason Taehyung comes over every now and then, dinner on his hand and a stupid reason from his mouth. "Yeah?" Hoseok pushes, smirking.

"I just," Taehyung mumbles, "I really like having dinner with you."

And that is all the confirmation Hoseok needs, to come forward, drape his hand around Taehyung's shoulder, and pull him inside. "I like having dinner with you, too."

*

"You know," Hoseok starts, slurping his ramen. "You could have returned my tee as an excuse to come here."

Taehyung is (very cutely) trying to pick up a piece of his chicken teriyaki with his chopsticks when he replies, "Oh, but I like that tee."

Hoseok has to wait for the younger boy to swallow his food, his heart beating in anticipation. "I wear that to sleep sometimes," Taehyung continues, grinning as he's saying it, and Hoseok finds it hard to hold his own grin. "It smells like you."

I love thissss, Taehyung logic is the best logic
very special indeed ♥

Title: Pop! Goes My Heart
Pairing (or character): Jimin/Jungkook
Prompt: Jimin never expected to have to go to someone two years younger for kissing advice.
Note: BTS, happy first anniversary! ♥
title taken from that catchy song from music & lyrics (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVkU8dDSC9w)

"No, no, no, no, no, hyung," comes an annoying sound of protest. "Not like that! Like, tilt your head more, put your hand on the back of her head—no! No! You're hopeless."

Jimin huffs, peeling himself away from his practice girlfriend and shooting a glare at his coach. He never really liked Jungkook, no. Jimin hates the way Jungkook makes him feel—how he traps him in between admiration and jealousy and the fact that he can't really say that out loud. Jungkook is better than him in everything, and although he's eaten 2130 more bowls of rice than Jungkook, Jimin is still behind in terms of looks, and singing, and dancing, and, apparently, love life. If it weren't for the fact that all his friends are as useless as he is in knowing what to do with girls, and if he didn't so desperately want to impress that Kim Taehyang girl from the cheerleading team, Jimin wouldn't even think about going to Jungkook.

But here he is, not an ounce of pride or honor left in his system, sitting across from Jungkook in an empty classroom, receiving instructions from a boy two years his junior, on how to kiss a girl. Because Jeon Jungkook is the shy boy who is secretly a sex god, one who is said to be capable of turning lesbians straight and straight guys gay. Him asking Jungkook to teach him how to do something as innocent as a kiss is already an insult to himself, and therefore it is safe to say that Jimin must have gone crazy. Is Kim Taehyang really worth all these efforts, really?

Okay, maybe she is.

"Try again," Jungkook nods at him, watching intently, and Jimin repositions himself to start again. "Let her know that you're in control," Jungkook orders as Jimin's lips touch his practice girlfriend. "So, like, exert some force, grab her a little, be a man!" Jungkook adds passionately, and Jimin does as he's told, eyes closed as he grabs the girl he's kissing, with force, hard, and manly, and powerful, and—

A loud pop comes right in front of his face, and Jimin jerks backwards, hands still grabbing the rubbery material that was once his girlfriend. Jungkook stares judgingly at him.

"I didn't mean crush her bones," Jungkook deadpans.

That is it for Jimin—he's not taking any more of this shit. This is too much. "Who uses balloons to practice kissing, anyway?!" he protests, frustrated.

"You just did," Jungkook points out, and Jimin feels like strangling this kid in front of him. Who dares talk back to him, the kid who's been ruining his life ever since he entered this school, stealing his adlibs in the vocal group, his dance prodigy title in dance club.

"That's because you told me to!" Jimin snaps. He can't believe he just let himself be humiliated, once again, by Jeon Jungkook. This kid is impossible. "We could have practiced with the wall, or a pillow, or something, but you said no, a balloon has the best similarity to a human head," he tries his best to imitate the way Jungkook said it, but even for that, he's not good enough. He'll never be as good as Jungkook, no.

Jungkook shrugs. "I'd offer for you to practice with me," he says, calm and direct as if it were nothing, while Jimin's eyes grow wide in shock. "If only you were any good."

It’s probably the surprise, the condescending tone in the words coming out from Jungkook’s mouth, or the need to prove Jungkook wrong. It could have been what he ate for lunch, or maybe even the weather. Jimin can't quite pinpoint what it is that makes him jump off his seat and lunge forward to Jungkook, both hands grabbing the sides of Jungkook's head as he angles his own just right, and starts kissing. He closes his eyes, as he presses his lips on Jungkook's, slow but with force, telling Jungkook that he's in control. And it's funny how Jimin doesn't think of Kim Taehyang's smile when he's kissing Jungkook—in fact, who is Kim Taehyang, he doesn't even remember. All he knows is that it feels so good, the way Jungkook moves his lips to kiss him back, yet another verification that Jeon Jungkook is good at everything. But for once, Jimin doesn't mind.

"Not bad," Jungkook breathes when they finally pull apart. "Maybe open your mouth some more," he adds, smirking, and pulling Jimin in for another kiss.

This is absolutely precious!! Sass-master-Jungkook is my favorite~

Re: Pop! Goes My Heart

(Anonymous) - 2014-06-15 13:05 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Pop! Goes My Heart

(Anonymous) - 2014-06-27 20:47 (UTC) - Expand

Title: spring/summer 2014 collection
Pairing (or character): jimin/v/jungkook
Warnings: n/a?
Prompt: Jimin/V/Jungkook - Pajama party.

:")

THIS IS? THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN???

(no subject)

(Anonymous) - 2014-06-14 05:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

shrdmdnssftw - 2014-06-13 08:38 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

(Anonymous) - 2014-06-14 05:31 (UTC) - Expand

Title: untitled
Pairing: J-Hope/V
Author: parkrinassi
Prompt: J-Hope/V - ride the same bus together literally every day

Hoseok looks at his watch; 7.30. Thirty more minutes before the upcoming bus will arrive, but Hoseok doesn’t look happy. He keeps wandering his head around, looking for someone.

Where is he? Hoseok thought while looking at his watch again for the seventh time since he arrived at 7. He basically looks over his watch every five minutes.

From far, he could see the blue bus is coming to the bus stop. Hoseok sighs, maybe he’s not going to be in the same bus with the orange-haired boy today, maybe next time.

Hoseok is walking into the bus and sit on of the bus-chair near the window, he loves that spot so much that he so lucky to still have that spot available. He looks at the scenery outside the window while waiting for the bus to leave the station.

“Hoseok hyung!”

Hoseok turned his head to face a grin on an orange-haired boy face. His hair is messy, also his clothes and everything, but his face is still happy and fresh.

“Taehyungie, where’ve you been?” Hoseok asked after Taehyung sat beside him, “woke up late?”

Taehyung nods, “Yeah, teenager problems.”

Hoseok knocked Taehyung’s head, “I’m just a year older than you!”

“Still old,” Taehyung chuckles, “It’s Monday, I’m so lazy~”

“You are lazy everyday,” Hoseok said, “Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.”

Taehyung laughs, “Hyung, seriously, you are like a kindergarten student who is trying to remember days’ name!”

Hoseok knocked Taehyung’s head once more, “shut up,” he said, “oh Taehyungie, do you still remember the first time we met?”

“Of course,” Taehyung smiles brightly, “I will never forget that day. It was raining, I woke up late, ran to the bus stop without any protection and there you were, with a green umbrella, protecting us from the cold fallen water.”

“And I asked you where were you heading up to and found out that we have the same route so we waited the bus together,” Hoseok continued, “After that we just keep meeting each other every single day.”

Taehyung nods, “I love meeting you everyday though, since the only chance to meet you is here, in this 15 minutes bus ride.”

“Me too,” Hoseok said messing Taehyung’s hair, “I am so busy with my college things and you have to prepare for your final exam too.”

“Hyung, you know what? I guess I’ll be going to your college,” Taehyung tells Hoseok with a serious face, “because I want to see you everyday not only in this bus.”

Hoseok smiles, “You have to worked hard then, you know is not that easy to get into my college, right? I don’t even have time to play back then.”

Taehyung nods, “I know, I know. But hyung, what is your major again?”

“Modern dancing,” Hoseok answered, “don’t say you’re going to join my major too? I bet you can’t dance.”

“Yah! I can dance!” Taehyung pouts, “I’m the one that is not sure you can dance.”

“So you want me to prove that I can dance?” Hoseok said looking straight into Taehyung’s eyes, makes him blush, “you have to enter my college first then I’ll show you my dance skill.”

“Call!” Taehyung said, “I’ll worked hard from now on, and you have to show your best dance skill!”

“Call,” Hoseok nodded, looking back to the scenery outside the window, “Oh wait! We already passed my campus, damn!”

Taehyung stands up to get a better look for the campus and yeah, it is already behind them. Hoseok hurriedly press the stop button and the bus slowly stopped. Hoseok then stands up, “Well, see you tomorrow then, Taehyungie?” he asked.

Taehyung nods, “Yeah, see you tomorrow, and the day after, and after that too, and everyday,” he chuckles followed by Hoseok.

“OK, see you!” Hoseok waves his hands and walks down from the bus with Taehyung eyeing him.

“See you too,” Taehyung smiles while enjoying his next journey to his high school.

Oh my vhope feels ahsjfkfldldjff thank you for this *-*

Title: untitled
Pairing: Jin/Rap Monster
Author: parkrinassi
Prompt: Jin/Rap Monster - they meet at the same bus stop every day, but never talk. AU.

Namjoon sat on the bench at the bus stop while waiting for his red bus to arrive, but suddenly there’s a man with a much pretty face walking to the bus stop and looking at the bus schedule. Namjoon can’t stop staring at him, he doesn’t even know why.

The said man nodded and stands beside the bus schedule, probably waiting for his bus to arrive. Namjoon keep eyeing him and he sees everything—the way he stands, the way he kicking the ground probably because he’s bored, the way he pouts and the way he smiles.

Namjoon followed the direction of the said man sight and found a pink bus approaching the bus stop. Once the bus stopped, the said man walking into the bus with a bright smiles and light steps. Namjoon can’t stop staring after the said man is lost from his sight.

A moment later, the bus is leaving the bus stopped, and Namjoon is there again, alone. He stills waiting for his red bus, but a few minutes later the bus comes and he slowly walking into it.

The next day, Namjoon is still sitting on the bench, waiting for his red bus again. Suddenly the said man from the previous day is coming to the bus stop again, but he’s not checking on the schedule anymore, he is just enjoying himself waiting for the bus beside the bus schedule.

Namjoon staring at the said man again, he doesn’t even know why he keep staring at the man when he has already did the whole observation the last day. He can’t tell, his eyes just works themselves.

The said man turned his head to Namjoon, maybe he finally feels that someone is watching him, and Namjoon froze. He never seen a guy with that pretty face in his entire life. Namjoon trying to avoid the man’s eyes and accidentally looks at the nametag on his chest: Kim Seokjin.

Namjoon stares at it, can’t believe that he has a same surname with this pretty face guy. He looks back to admire Seokjin’s pretty face but just then Seokjin turned his head to face the road again. Namjoon sighs.

Just like that, Seokjin’s bus has arrived and he walks in into the bus, leaving Namjoon alone.

The following day, and the day after, and even everyday, Namjoon keep seeing Seokjin, and they wait for their bus together. They never talk, but Namjoon enjoys himself admiring Seokjin until his bus finally arrived.

Title: pretty boy rock
Pairing (or character): yoongi/seokjin
Prompt: Suga isn't a pretty boy, but he might like one.

On the list of things of Yoongi hates most in the world, strenuous exercise is somewhere at the top underneath ‘being woken up’ and ‘donkeys’ so it takes a full two weeks of Namjoon’s coaxing and pestering before Yoongi finally agrees to help the younger boy move to his new dorm on the third floor.
But now, as Yoongi is hauling the last box of Namjoon’s stuff up the seemingly never ending stairs, huffing and panting, he’s reminded of just why he hates doing this so much.

"I'm going to kill you just as soon as I get the feeling back in my arms." He mutters before collapsing on the floor of the landing.

"If you say so, hyung." Namjoon replies, not even sparing him a look and Yoongi would give him a speech on respecting your elders if he had the energy left to do anything but breathe at the moment.

"I don't get why you're the one that has to move. It wasn't your fault your roommate decided to leave you." Yoongi grumbles, sighing when the cold floor meets his sweaty back through his drenched t-shirt.

"Donghyuk didn't leave me. He dropped out to do what he wanted. Follow his dreams and all that." Namjoon replies and he's attempting to sound as flippant as possible but Yoongi doesn't miss the way the words seem to catch in Namjoon's throat.

Yoongi has never been good at dealing with his own emotions, never mind anyone else's but Namjoon is his friend and Yoongi hates seeing him down like this. He hadn't known Donghyuk that well, only seen him in the studio a few times but he knew him and Namjoon were close so when he'd up and left like that, it really affected Namjoon. Of course, the younger boy would never admit that so Yoongi drags his body off the floor to awkwardly pat Namjoon's shoulder.

"It'll be fine." He says and Yoongi isn't sure if that's what Namjoon even wants to hear but he looks up at younger boy and hopes his eyes convey what his words can't.

It seems to work because Namjoon breaks into a wan smile, squeezing the hand on his shoulder in thanks and Yoongi feels a little better.

"Alright come on, grandpa. We still have to get these boxes inside." Namjoon says and before Yoongi can protest there's another box shoved in his arms.

"I take it back. It’s not going to be fine. I’m really going to kill you." He complains, arms straining underneath the load. Namjoon ignores him in favour of knocking on the door. It takes what seems like ages for an answer and with every passing second, Yoongi's arms wobble more and more, threatening to drop the box. Just when Yoongi is about to give up, the door finally swings open.

"Oh, sorry I didn't hear you. I was busy cooking." A boy greets them, smiling sheepishly, and Yoongi finds himself staring. His eyes travel from the boy's perfectly styled hair, to his wide, wide shoulders, down past the frilly pink apron tied around his waist before his eyes finally land on the matching pink slippers covering his feet. He looks like something out of Jimin and Taehyung's secret stash of shoujou mangas that Yoongi has definitely never snooped in and Yoongi would make a comment but something about the boy leaves him strangely tongue tied.

"You must be the new roommate, I'm Seokjin." He greets them and Yoongi notices how soft his voice sounds, delicate almost and Yoongi wants to hear more of it.

"Namjoon. Nice to meet you. This is my friend Yoongi." Namjoon replies and when Seokjin turns to face him, Yoongi is momentarily blinded by pretty eyes and full lips.

"Uhm, hi." He manages to croak out and Yoongi has no idea why his throat is suddenly so dry but he pretends it has nothing to do with the way Seokjin is smiling at him, sweet and welcoming like he’s genuinely pleased to have Yoongi in his presence.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Seokjin says and all Yoongi can do is nod and ignore the way his heart seems to be hammering behind his ribcage.

The next time Yoongi meets Seokjin is when Namjoon brings him along to the studio the next week. He’s too pretty is Yoongi’s first thought when the older boy plops down on the couch. Their studio was little more than a glorified closet and he looks so out of place in the dingy room, effortlessly styled hair and long legs neatly crossed on their ratty couch. He's dressed in an expensive looking sweater, perfectly pressed shirt collar peeking out underneath and looking every bit like the ulzzangs Yoongi sees on the internet.

"I caught him singing in the shower,” Namjoon says by way of explanation, “I wanted to see how he’d sound on record” and before Seokjin can say another word, he’s shoved into the tiny recording booth. And to Yoongi’s surprise, Seokjin does sound good, voice smooth and pretty. Yoongi finds himself saving more voice files of the older boy than necessary and hopes Namjoon doesn’t catch him.

“That was good.” He comments the moment Seokjin steps out of the recording booth and the way the older boy beams at him sets embarrassing flutters erupting in Yoongi’s stomach. It takes all of Yoongi’s courage to ask if Seokjin wants to come again and record with him and when the older boy agrees almost immediately, head nodding enthusiastically, Yoongi wonders if he’ll regret this.
He does.

Yoongi doesn’t do crushes. He doesn’t do blushing and stuttering, skipping heart bears and love-struck gazes. And yet, every time Seokjin comes to the studio to record, sheepish smile on his face, Yoongi’s body decides to betray him every chance it gets. Seokjin doesn’t seem to notice though, doesn’t notice the way Yoongi’s words seem to falter around him or the way the younger boy can never look him in the eye for too long. Yoongi notices everything about Seokjin, however, from the way he holds his hands when he’s singing to how his eyebrows twitch in annoyance when he messes up. Yoongi also notices that Seokjin tries really hard to follow his instructions and Yoongi pretends that that doesn’t make him smile to himself when Seokjin isn’t looking.

Title: pretty boy rock part 2
Pairing (or character): yoongi/seokjin
Prompt: Suga isn't a pretty boy, but he might like one.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer.” Seokjin says when he spots Yoongi’s camera on his desk. This is their fourth session in the studio together (not that Yoongi is counting or anything) and he’s learnt a lot about him in the space of 6 hours (again, not that Yoongi is counting). He knows that Seokjin is a History major, that he’s an avid cook, (Yoongi teases him about that until Seokjin vows to show him just how great of a cook he is). He also learns that despite how effortless styled he is, Seokjin is almost painfully awkward and could crack bad jokes rivalling Jimin's in their cheesiness. But for some reason Yoongi thought it was endearing on Seokjin and he found himself actually laughing on more than one occasion.

“Well, I am studying it.” He answers before picking up his camera and taking a casual shot of Seokjin.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!” Seokjin stutters and Yoongi just grins at the indignant look on the older boy’s face.

“It’s fine. It still turned out good.” Yoongi answers, staring down at his camera display at Seokjin’s photo. The older boy had been staring off into his space, eyebrows drawn, but he still looked pretty. “You photograph well.”

“Thanks. It must be the handsome face.” Seokjin responds and as much as Yoongi agrees, he still just snorts and pokes Seokjin in the side until the older boy yelps.

Yoongi was a reserved person by nature. He liked quiet places with little people and enjoyed his own company more than anything. But somehow, as he looks across the dining hall table at Taehyung trying to wrestle pudding out of a protesting, screeching Jimin, he has ended up friends with the loudest people on campus.

"It's too early for this." He grumbles, head falling onto the table top.

"Hyung, it's 2pm." Hoseok says next to him before launching an empty paper cup in Taehyung and Jimin's direction. By now, the pair are practically rolling around on the floor and Yoongi really wishes they would stop because they’re getting stairs.

Yoongi really isn’t even sure how he became friends with these people but he knows it's all Jimin's fault. Taehyung had been Jimin's best friend and despite knowing him for almost year, Yoongi still had no idea what went on in the younger boy's head and judging by what came out of his mouth, Yoongi didn't want to know either. Hoseok had been easier to understand and despite his tendency to make Yoongi's toes curl from the cheesy things he says, Yoongi probably liked him the best. After Jungkook that was. Perfect, genius Jungkook that was currently silently observing the scuffle at his feet, one eyebrow elegantly raised in judgment. None of them knew how he became their friend but Yoongi guesses Taehyung cast some kind of spell on him because no one sane would join their group willingly.

"When will you country bumpkins learn the ways of the city?." Namjoon's voice reached them and Yoongi looked up to find him and Seokjin walking towards their table.

"Who you calling bumpkins, you weak Seoulite?" Hoseok snapped, putting on the heaviest Gwangju accent he could muster. Yoongi snorted but the laugh died in his throat the moment he looked up and saw that Seokjin was laughing too, hand delicately covering his mouth.

"Everyone this is Seokjin." Namjoon announces and they all introduce themselves aside from Yoongi.

"Hey, don't be rude, hyung." Hoseok says, nudging him on the shoulder.

"Ah, it's fine. I already know Yoongi-ah." Seokjin says, shooting Yoongi a small, secretive smile, and Yoongi feels his cheeks heat up when all the eyes on the table turn towards him. (He knows the flush rising on his face has less to do with everyone looking at him and more to do with how Seokjin just called him Yoongi-ah but it really is too early to this).

"Wow, so none of you are from Seoul?" Seokjin suddenly exclaims, shifting the attention away from Yoongi who is eternally grateful.

"You sound like a news reporter." Taehyung comments, face blank as usual, and Seokjin blinks, confused.

"Thanks, I guess?" He replies, laughing awkwardly and not for the first time Yoongi wants to tape Taehyung's mouth shut.

"Don't listen to him, he never makes sense." Yoongi offers, ignoring the little wave of relief he feels when Seokjin visibly relaxes because why does he care so much?

"I'll keep that mind. Anyway, I should get going or I'll be late to class. It was nice meeting you all." Seokjin says before he bids them farewell.

“Would it kill you guys to act normal once in a while?” Namjoon mutters.

“I don’t think Taehyung would survive normal.” Jungkook answers gravely and Taehyung nods in fervent agreement.

Yoongi has learnt that the campus coffee shop is unusually quiet on Tuesday afternoons and has taken to dragging his laptop there to do catch up on his studies. On this particular afternoon the weather is good and Yoongi decides to sit on the outside tables, letting the sunshine warm his bare arms. He's half-way through a paper when he feels a tap on his shoulder and he looks up to find a smiling Seokjin staring down at him.

This is the first time Yoongi has seen him outside the dim studio in what feels like months and Seokjin looks even prettier in the daylight. Yoongi's fingers are itching for his camera. He wants to save the way Seokjin's eyes seem to glint in the light, wants to capture the sunlight trapped in the strands of Seokjin's hair.

"Hey," Seokjin's voice pulls Yoongi out of his thoughts and he finally realises he's just been staring at the older boy this entire time.

"Hey," Yoongi replies and as he scans his eyes over Seokjin's outfit he realises that there's something familiar about it.

"I didn't know you worked here."

"Just started last week." Seokjin answers, fixing the nametag on his chest before suddenly standing up straight, pen in hand and poised over his notepad, "What can I do for you today, sir?" He says, voice mockingly posh.

The joke is awkward and bad but Yoongi laughs despite himself. “Just go back to work, hyung.”

“Fine, I’ll see you later.” Seokjin replies before disappearing back into the coffee shop. Yoongi is about to get back to his paper when he hears a rustling next to him.

"Wow." A voice says right to next his ear and Yoongi nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Fucking hell, Jimin. Are you trying to kill me?" He snaps, clutching his hammering heart.

"Always. But more importantly, did I just catch you giggling and blushing over Jin-hyung?"

"Jin-hyung?”

"It's a nickname we came up for him. Isn't it cute?" Jimin says and Yoongi has to agrees that yes, it is cute but he's never admitting that to Jimin.

“Almost as cute as the two of you would be together.

“Park Jimin, I will throttle you.” Yoongi threatens but he knows he doesn’t look intimidating at all, not with the flush he can feel creeping up his face from Jimin’s words.

“Is that before or after you write Jin-hyung a poem?”

“JIIIMIIIIN!!”

Title: pretty boy rock part 3/final
Pairing (or character): yoongi/seokjin
Prompt: Suga isn't a pretty boy, but he might like one.

Yoongi thinks about Jimin’s words all the way back to his dorm and it's when he imports his photos from his camera to his laptop later that night and realises that the last 10 shots taken are of a smiling, laughing Seokjin from last week (when Seokjin had looked extra nice, navy blue was really his colour) that Yoongi finally accepts that he maybe, kinda, possibly likes Kim Seokjin.

But accepting it doesn't make being around Seokjin any easier.

Yoongi finds himself in front of Seokjin and Namjoon’s dorm the next evening, CD in hand. "Hey, is Namjoon in?" He says when Seokjin opens the door and Yoongi tries his best not to let his eyes linger on the sliver of collarbone he can see peeking out from the too wide collar of Seokjin’s sweater.

“Yeah, come in.”

"Am I disturbing something?" Yoongi asks, after he’s toed off shoes. He’s eyeing the suspiciously cozy set up of the couch where there's a blanket half covering Namjoon, popcorn precariously balanced on his lap and the only light in the dorm is coming from the flickering TV.

"We were just watching a movie." Namjoon says, words punctured by a yawn.

"I just came to drop off the tape so you could look over it."

"If by look over it you mean 'greatly improve' then leave it on the counter and I will have a look at it."

"You're lucky I care about your input or I would have socked you in the face by now." Yoongi hisses but the menace on his face softens when he hears Seokjin’s giggle.

"Why don't you watch the movie with us if you don't have anything planned?" Seokjin offers, patting the sofa next to him, and the moment Yoongi sees the hopeful look in the older boy's eyes, he knows there's no way he'd refuse.

"Okay,fine.” Before Yoongi can even get the words out he’s yanked down onto the couch by Seokjin. The couch is tiny and can barely fit two grown men let alone three so Yoongi finds himself pressed up against Seokjin, the older boy’s arm casually slung over his shoulders. Yoongi looks up to try and gauge Seokjin’s expression but the older boy is resolutely staring ahead at the screen and Yoongi tries to ignore the heat he can feel radiating from Seokjin’s body.

When Yoongi finally manages to focus his attention on the screen he sees colourful cartoon characters and raises an eyebrow.

"What the hell is this?"

"OnePiece." Namjoon and Seokjin answer in unison.

"I expected this from Namjoon but I’m disappointed in you, Hyung." Yoongi says and Namjoon lets out a snort.

"Why are you laughing?" Yoongi snaps.

"Nothing, it's just weird hearing you call someone 'hyung'."

"But he is my hyung."

"To be honest when I first met you I thought Namjoon was the older one." Seokjin says.

"Why?" Yoongi asks and the question makes Seokjin blush for some reason and Yoongi suddenly wants to flip the lights on so he can see if Seokjin looks even prettier with a flush.

"Because you're cute." Seokjin answers, voice almost a whisper but Yoongi catches it and the words send the annoying flutters in his stomach into overdrive. He spends the next ten minutes trying to slow down his heartbeat in case Seokjin feels it.

Namjoon falls asleep half-way through the movie and Yoongi watches as Seokjin carefully places a cushion under the younger boy's head. "You're too nice to him." He whispers.

"I'd do the same for you, Yoongi-ah." Seokjin replies and suddenly Yoongi is as tongue tied as the first day they met. Seokjin is looking down at him, eyes dark, and Yoongi suddenly can’t find his voice. They stay like that for what seems like minutes, just staring at each other, until a loud snore breaks through whatever spell has been cast.

“God, how do you get any sleep around him?” Yoongi mutters and the older boy just laughs, the flickering lights of the TV dancing off his eyes and Yoongi doesn’t think Seokjin could look any prettier.

Yoongi has many bad habits, one of them being that he gets a little too lost in his work sometimes. And by a little, Yoongi means that he has spent the last 72 hours glued to the rickety desk in his dorm, finalizing his mixtape.

"Hyung, you have to sleep." Jimin's voice says from somewhere behind him but Yoongi has long since become an expert at ignoring the younger boy. The less he says, the quicker Jimin usually gives up.

"No."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No."

"I thought you might say this so I called in enforcements."

"No- wait, what?" But before Yoongi has even finished his sentence the front door swings open and in walks Seokjin carrying a bursting bag of groceries. Yoongi shoots a look at Jimin that says 'traitor' but the other boy only smiles smugly.

"I had to. It's for your own good." He says before hurrying out the door in case Yoongi decides to throw something his way. It wouldn't be the first time.

"You look like a mess." Seokjin says now that the older boy has put down the bag of groceries, Yoongi finally notices that he looks a little different today. His hair isn't styled in its usually artful way, instead it's falling over his face, fluffy like he's just come from having a shower. He's dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats, the most casual Yoongi has ever seen him. But he looks warm and soft like this and Yoongi decides he prefers this look.

"Art is sacrifice." He replies when his eyes finally decide they are finished appreciating every aspect of Seokjin and his brain is finished berating him for appreciating every aspect of Seokjin.

"There'll be no more sacrifices. Shower then food. No buts." Seokjin commands, voice stern and Yoongi wants to protest but he finds himself slinking off towards the bathroom before he even knows it.

When Yoongi steps out of the shower he's greeted with the delicious smell of freshly cooked food and he doesn't even bother to dry his hair before he pads towards the kitchen.

"That smells so good." He says, plopping himself down on the worn couch.

"Hey, don't walk around with wet hair. You'll catch a cold." Seokjin scolds, wagging his spatula in his direction but he's wearing his frilly apron again and looks about as menacing as a kitten.

"I hope you’re hungry because I made a lot." Seokjin says, placing down bowls and plates of food on the coffee table.

"I don't eat a lot."

"I know but I'm hoping my cooking will change that.” Seokjin replies and he looks so earnest that Yoongi almost feels guilty for eating so little. Yoongi needn't have worried thought because Seokjin is a great cook and he finds himself eating more than he has in ages.

“This is good.” He mumbles in between mouthfuls and Seokjin beams happily at him.

“So, tell me about your music.” Seokjin says and Yoongi realises how close the older boy is sitting, bright eyes trained on Yoongi with rapt attention, looking like all he wants to do in the world is listen to Yoongi talk.

"Beer." Yoongi he sputters out and Seokjin looks at him in confusion, "I mean there's beer in the fridge. I'll go get it." And before Seokjin can answer he’s stumbling towards the kitchen.

It takes two cans of beer for his tongue to finally loosen and another half for him to completely let go. Yoongi is too busy talking and babbling to notice that Seokjin has barely touched his own can but he’s laughing and smiling so Yoongi just keeps going.

“I can’t believe you came all the way to Seoul by yourself.” Seokjin interrupts, voice awed.

“Y-yeah.” Yoongi stutters and he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol buzzing through his system making him braver or the way Seokjin is looking at him with wide, bright eyes, but he leans forward and presses their lips together. He can feel Seokjin tense but he doesn’t pull away and it’s all the signal he needs before Yoongi presses their bodies closer, lips hungry on Seokjin’s and it feels so much better than Yoongi could ever have imagined. And then, just as Yoongi is getting lost in the feel of plush lips, it stops. He looks down to see a pair of arms on his shoulders, holding him back and he looks up, confused.

“Are you sure you want this, Yoongi-ah?” Seokjin whispers, breath fanning across Yoongi’s face and setting goosebumps flying across his skin. Yoongi can see the hesitation in Seokjin's voice but he can also the want swimming in his eyes and it has him pressing even closer.

“Yes. Yes, I want this.” Yoongi replies, nodding his head almost deliriously but it makes Seokjin press a grin to Yoongi’s lips and the younger boy could never have cared less about looking embarrassing. Not when Seokjin’s lips feel so right against his own, not when fingers are tangling in his hair and every fibre in Yoongi’s body is saying yes.

“Finally.” A voice interrupts them and they look up to see Jimin sauntering casually past them to his bedroom. Yoongi wants to reply but as he leans up to press another kiss against Seokjin’s lips, he decides he’s found an even more effective method of ignoring the younger boy.

fin

/FLAILS THIS IS SO CUTE

"You sound like a news reporter." Taehyung comments, face blank as usual, and Seokjin blinks, confused.
LMAOO

Seokjin scolds, wagging his spatula in his direction but he's wearing his frilly apron again and looks about as menacing as a kitten.
CRIES JIN IS ALWAYS ONLY AS MENACING AS A KITTEN

i enjoyed this thank you uvu

Title: light the spark
Pairing (or character): Suga/J-Hope/(Jungkook)
Warnings: N/A
Prompt: Jungkook sleeps a bit too soundly between Hoseok and Yoongi. They literally cannot get him to stop snoring. The bright side is that he looks cute when he sleeps.
A/N: This ended up pretty heavy on the Suga/Hoseok side to the point that they didn’t really… even try to get Jungkook to stop snoring, but I hope you enjoy this fill! To whoever prompted, this was the cutest image in my mind and I knew I was going to write it when I first read it :) I hope you’ll find it enjoyable!

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Yoongi says, beanie catching on the opening flap of the tent on his way in. The tent is pretty much miniscule, though decently padded on the inside with blankets laid over what looks like a cheap foam mattress making up most of the floor of the space. The staff members have clearly lined the inside walls with thermal blankets pegged to the thin poles holding the tent together.

It’s hideous, fit for one person, and Yoongi is expected to spend the winter night in it squashed together with Jungkook and Hoseok while the others stay in the guest house, all because they lost another cooking battle. Yoongi eyes the camera taped to the top of the tent warily when Namjoon stumbles his way into it from the other side, Taehyung and Jimin’s giggling about tripping him following just a beat after.

Yoongi sighs, ready to steady Namjoon by reaching a hand out to him, but then the brim of Namjoon’s snapback is colliding with the mess of tape suspending the camera to the top of the tent before the handycam is crashing to the floor, Namjoon sprawled out on top of it, a groan of pain escaping his mouth. Hoseok pokes his head into the tent over Yoongi’s shoulder, his warm cheek pressing against the side of Yoongi’s face, and Yoongi can practically feel the smirk spread out across Hoseok’s face before he speaks.

“Namjoon the destroyer strikes again!”

—

“This is your fault you know,” Yoongi whispers, shooting Hoseok a dirty look just for the hell of it despite knowing that there’s no way that Hoseok can even see him properly in dark. They’re lucky enough that Namjoon had broken the camera meant for their tent so they could at least have more privacy than the other four, but Yoongi keeps his voice low for the sake of their youngest member currently passed out between him and Hoseok in their tiny blanket nest.

Hoseok snorts at him, not bothering to keep his voice down, “You were the one who tried so hard to steal the ramyeon powder from Jimin that you didn’t even notice Taehyung dumping that much pepper into our soup.”

Yoongi makes another face. If it weren’t for this… thing they have going on, and the fact that Jungkook is snoring between them, Yoongi would smack him in the shoulder. Instead, Yoongi props his head up on one arm and wriggles his way closer to Hoseok’s face as gently as he can without displacing Jungkook with his face pressed to Hoseok’s chest and one hand curled into Yoongi’s pajama shirt. Jungkook sighs in his sleep right before he lets out another snore, and Yoongi has got to admit that their maknae is cute.

Well, cute, but kind of a cockblock.

Hoseok seems to understand what Yoongi is thinking about because he’s reaching over, with his free hand, his other arm long trapped under Jungkook’s head to be used as a pillow, and then Yoongi has his hand in Hoseok’s, fingers laced against Yoongi’s hip. Yoongi is thumbing across Hoseok’s knuckles when Hoseok speaks again.

“So,” Hoseok says, and Yoongi knows he’s going to say something stupid before the words even come out of his mouth. “This is romantic.”

There’s a pause, then both of them are shaking, trying to muffle their laughter before Jungkook wakes up and starts asking questions about why they’re holding hands. Yoongi can’t really see Hoseok’s smile in the dark, but he’s seen it enough and in close proximity more times that he can count that it’s easy to see it in his mind.

“Sure, this is as romantic as it gets,” Yoongi starts, pausing when Jungkook snuffles his way through a particularly long snore. Yoongi swears Jungkook is going to develope snoring habits that’ll be able to battle Namjoons if he keeps on screwing up his sleep schedule. “Definitely romantic if we pretend that we’re married and camping out in the wilderness with our pubescent son interrupting his parents’ bonding session.”

“Bonding session, huh,” Hoseok says, and there’s something sly in his usually gentle voice that makes Yoongi suspicious. He’s about to call Hoseok out on it when Hoseok shifts his fingers away from Yoongi’s to splay across his waist, sliding his palm against the band of Yoongi’s sleep pants, and Yoongi’s brain sputters to a halt when Hoseok leans up and over slightly to brush their lips together.

“Hoseok, don’t you dare start shit with me right now, Jungkook is right there—”

“I know, I know,” Hoseok says, but presses closer anyway. Yoongi sighs again when he feels Hoseok’s breaths, toothpasty and calm, against his chin. This time, Yoongi kisses him first, and it’s been so long since they’ve had a moment together with the filming of their new show and cameras all over the dorm that Yoongi lets himself live a little, even if it means attempting half a makeout session above the top of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook’s snores are admittedly more distracting that he’d like, but Yoongi isn’t a chooser when Hoseok has his tongue in Yoongi’s mouth and his fingers pressing into Yoongi’s hip.

Jungkook chooses that moment in his sleep to press closer to Hoseok, and Yoongi has to pull back a little because Jungkook’s back is curving against his chest, forcing him and Hoseok apart. It’s dark in the tent, the only light from outside coming from the porch lights of the guest house, but Yoongi can’t even bring himself to be annoyed when he watches Jungkook pretty much butt his head against Hoseok’s chest in an attempt to curl closer to him. It’s like watching a day-old kitten look for its mother when its eyes haven’t opened yet, and Hoseok’s cooing is obnoxious when he pulls his hand away from Yoongi’s hip to poke Jungkook in the cheek.

“Don’t wake him up,” Yoongi says quietly, lifting his own hand to stroke down the back of Jungkook’s head soothingly, cringing at the slight pull of his palm against over-processed hair but continuing nonetheless. Jungkook is cute, especially when he whines and makes scrunched up faces in his sleep whenever Hoseok pinches at his cheeks, but his breathing evens out again with Yoongi’s constant petting. Yoongi only pulls his hand away when Jungkook’s snores pick up again after he’s found a position to finally settle into, legs tangled around Hoseok’s.

It’s quiet for a while then, apart from Jungkook’s snoring, and Yoongi rolls his head back in an attempt to get rid of the knot in his neck, but Hoseok reaches over for him once more, fingers pressing into the hairs behind Yoongi’s ear, and Yoongi can only hold onto his wrist limply while he lets Hoseok work his magic and massage the tension out of him. Hoseok in the day is loud and bright, always full of laughter and ready to care, while Yoongi swings back and forth between blunt and unresponsive to any kind of external stimuli. It’s funny how they ended up this fond of each other, and sometimes Yoongi can’t do anything but thank Hoseok by smiling back at his looks and leaning into his touches.

Yoongi lets his fingers wander up Hoseok’s arm, head lolling to one side from Hoseok’s hand against his neck, and this is a chance so rare that Yoongi can’t let himself fall asleep with the two of them just petting each other, so he curls his fingers around Hoseok’s bicep and pulls him close enough to bite at his bottom lip.

It’s clumsy but soft, and Yoongi can feel Hoseok’s lips quirk into a smile before he presses forwards towards Yoongi, tongue swiping out to wet his chapped lips before letting Yoongi lick into his mouth. Yoongi has never thought this much about kissing before Hoseok, about tongues and teeth and lips and spit, but there’s something about the way Hoseok kisses him that makes Yoongi’s heart pound when he curls his tongue along the backs of Yoongi’s teeth and reduce Yoongi to simple thoughts of warm and more.

Hoseok has his fingers against Yoongi’s jaw, angling his face the right way while Yoongi palms at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and Yoongi can honestly say he likes the thrill. It’s risky to do this, not just because Jungkook is basically wedged between them, but because any one of the staff members could burst in at any time and they wouldn’t have any kind of excuse. Yoongi has never thought of himself as liking exhibitionism, but the thought of getting caught makes Yoongi’s head spin, though that could just be from the way he’s trying to chase the taste of mint around Hoseok’s mouth, and when Yoongi pulls back the slightest bit to tug Hoseok’s lower lip between his teeth the sound Hoseok makes is enough to send a spark of heat down his spine. Yoongi can feel the heat of Hoseok’s face pretty much radiating off his own, and then he’s bringing his hand forward to thumb against the wetness of Hoseok’s lips, thumb dipping into Hoseok’s open mouth just the slightest.

The feeling of Hoseok panting hot against the pad of his fingertip is enough to drive Yoongi forward again, and Yoongi almost forgets to pull his thumb away from Hoseok’s mouth before dips in closer again, ready to feel the clack of teeth against teeth and catching on lips, but then Jungkook let’s out a snore so loud that both of them are jolting back, hearts beating fast.

“God,” Yoongi groans, tossing an arm over his face as he rolls onto his back, the tent shaking form Yoongi’s shoulder hitting the wall from that movement alone. The tent really is fucking tiny. “How can such a young kid have such earth shaking snores?”

Hoseok laughs, short sounds interspersed between Jungkook’s ridiculous snoring, and he sounds out of breath in the familiar way that Yoongi knows he gets after they’ve been making out (or attempting to, at least) for a while. The sound of it is comforting in the same way that Hoseok’s entire being is a comfort to Yoongi, and Yoongi finds himself laughing along, the heat that had been pooling in his gut spreading up to his chest instead. Well. That’s one awkward boner avoided, he supposes.

“I have no idea, but,” Hoseok starts, when he’s finally caught his breath, then pauses a little awkwardly, and Hoseok is everything but awkward. Yoongi is about to ask him to spit out whatever he has to say when Hoseok speaks again, “I’m glad it’s you here with me.”

Yoongi can’t deny that that makes his heart speed up just a bit more than before, and the can feel the blood pound in his ears, almost matching rhythm with the frequency of Jungkook’s snores, and the situation they’re in is so ridiculous and Hoseok is just so... sweet that Yoongi doesn’t quite believe it, his only reaction ending up being a snort that he hopes conveys some kind of fondness for Hoseok. Yoongi doesn’t openly show affection that much, but he knows Hoseok can read him well enough to tell when he tries.

“You’re only glad that it’s me and not Namjoon because there’d be no way that you’d be able to get any sleep with both him and Jungkook snoring away,” is what Yoongi settles for in the end, and he’s barely finished the sentence when Hoseok reaches over to pinch at his waist. Yoongi lets out a small yelp, and Hoseok slaps his hand over Yoongi’s mouth to shut him up, nodding down towards Jungkook, still snoring, before he removes his hand, Yoongi making a point to nip at his fingers as he moves away. Hoseok just hums and swipes his now damp fingers against Yoongi’s cheek in retaliation. Yoongi swears that he’s gonna bite down on them the next time this happens.

He’s about to tell Hoseok this when Jungkook twists again, this time flopping over to curl an arm and a leg around Yoongi’s body, burrying his face into Yoongi’s chest. It would be cuter if Yoongi couldn’t feel Jungkook’s toenails through the socks scratching along his calves even through Yoongi’s track pants, but Yoongi’s only displeased by him for interrupting what could have been another half an hour of kissing Hoseok. They’re all tired, this Yoongi knows, and they really should be getting to sleep before they have to head back to the studio the next morning. He reaches up and tugs the blanket closer around Jungkook’s shoulders briefly, then settles a hand fondly on the back of Jungkook’s neck while Hoseok moves in closer so they’re all snug and warm.

“We should sleep,” Yoongi says, as seriously as he can manage, cracking a yawn at the end of his sentence. He knows he isn’t the only one tired judging from Hoseok yawning right after his own.

“Okay,” Hoseok replies, the syllables broken up by another yawn. Yoongi feels his eyes droop before Hoseok speaks again. “What, no goodnight kiss?”

It’s said in the voice Hoseok uses when he’s trying to be cute on camera or playing around with Taehyung, accented and pitched just a few notches higher than his regular voice, so Yoongi knows he isn’t serious. Yoongi just grunts, uncaring and mumbling a “nope,” before shutting his eyes fully.
“Fine,” comes Hoseok’s voice from beyond the black of Yoongi’s closed eyelids, and he thinks the subject is dropped before Hoseok continues with, “then I’ll just give you a big good night smooch instead!” and then Yoongi has a wet kiss pressed to the same side of his face where Hoseok had previously smeared his own saliva off.

Yoongi is about to gripe about drool stains when Jungkook spreads out like a star fish, limbs thrown over Hoseok and Yoongi’s bodies, very much awake and very much annoyed, seventeen and grumbling, “What, I don’t get a good night kiss too?”

It’s sudden and a little bit terrifying, the fact that he’d woken up and heard that exchange between him and Hoseok, but Yoongi wouldn’t be too worried considering how much Hoseok has been going around recently to their three youngest members and pressed kisses to their faces whenever he’d felt like it. Jungkook’s voice is whiny, sleep thick and soft, and he reminds Yoongi of the same Jungkook complaining to everyone within earshot about Yoongi when Yoongi had admitted to the world that he’d stolen Jungkook’s underpants on national broadcast. He’s a brat, but still the baby of the group nonetheless, and Yoongi has said it once and will say it again: Jungkook is cute.

“You want a kiss huh,” Yoongi says, voice coming out gruffer than he’d intended, and he clears his throat and catches Hoseok waggling his eyes at him over Jungkook’s head. Jungkook is staring at him as Yoongi supposes he can while half asleep, eyes at half mast and pout upon his face, a crease running across his cheek from Hoseok’s sleeve. Really, really, cute.

Hoseok takes that moment to nuzzle into the back of Jungkook’s neck, causing Jungkook to yelp and twist around from what Yoongi guesses is a very cold nose, before Hoseok is yelling, “Well you can get two!” surprising Jungkook and getting him off guard when both Yoongi and Hoseok smack wet kisses to each of his cheeks.

“Hyung!” is the only thing Jungkook gets out before Hoseok blows a raspberry into the side of his face, and he’s thrashing about as much as he can from Hoseok’s arms clamped around his and Yoongi tickling up sides, and it’s a while before the three of them stop and sprawl out across each other in a fit of giggles.

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi says when he’s finally managed to catch his breath. Someone has to play hyung and he guesses it’s gonna be him tonight. He smacks Hoseok’s hand away from pinching Jungkook’s cheek again just as Jungkook starts to whine. “It’s time for us to sleep. So go to sleep, Jungkook.”

“You guys weren’t sleeping when you woke me up,” Jungkook sulks, and Yoongi puts a hand to the back of his head and pulls him closer against his chest to shut him up, which works as well as Yoongi supposes it can, though Jungkook wiggles more to get the blankets half over his face.

Hoseok rolls closer as well. Yoongi thinks Hoseok is going to be sweet and wish Jungkook a quiet good night like he usually does when they’re in the dorms, but what comes out of Hoseok’s mouth makes Yoongi laugh instead. “We couldn’t sleep because someone in the tent was out like a light and snoring like a chainsaw.”

Jungkook kicks hard at Hoseok’s leg for that, making him swear in pain, and Yoongi laughs again until Jungkook lets out a dribbly sneeze into his shirt, gross and totally uncalled for and definitely not cute.

—

Jungkook ends up banished to one side of the tent, letting Yoongi have the middle space, and that’s exactly how the rest of the group and staff members find them in the morning, Yoongi with his head tucked under Hoseok’s chin and body curled into Hoseok’s body heat, and Jungkook still snoring a good half a foot of wasted space away. They’re lucky that Yoongi had been cold enough in the night to have the blanket go all the way up to his hair, or he’d never be able to live down the image of him nuzzling into Hoseok’s chest on national television.

Jimin is the first one in the tent, practically ripping the flap open and sprawling in the tiny bit of space left between Yoongi and Jungkook, hitting Hoseok in the face with his elbow before he rolls over to sit on Jungkook, who lets out a screech when Jimin pinches his cheeks with both hands.

“Stop pinching my cheeks!” is the first thing Yoongi can comprehend. He’s exhausted and Hoseok’s palm is still warm against the small of his back, fingers stroking slightly, and it’s way too early to deal with both a giggling Jimin and a grumbling Jungkook.

Jimin pays Jungkook’s complaints no attention whatsoever, cooing at him still and straddling him while repeating, “but you’re so cute and puffy faced in the morning!” Yoongi can feel Hoseok’s silent laughter from the shaking in his shoulders, and Yoongi smiles into Hoseok’s collarbones and snuggles closer. There’s a moment of calm that settles in Yoongi’s heart while he listens to Jimin’s laughter and Jungkook’s halfhearted retorts, coupled with the rise and fall of Hoseok’s chest while he breathes, and Yoongi isn’t the biggest cuddler, but this is pretty much the only chance he’s going to get, so he lets himself soak up Hoseok’s warmth for just a little bit longer.

He’s about to roll away and catch Jimin in a headlock to stop both Jimin and Jungkook from shaking the tent when there’s a shout and a snap, and then the whole tent is crashing down on them with the force of a body rolling about perpendicular to their own. Jimin’s yelp is drowned out by Seokjin’s shout of “What the fuck, Taehyung,” which in turn gets swallowed up by Taehyung’s laughter and Namjoon’s shout of “It wasn’t me, I didn’t break it this time!” while the managers and staff members groan and start lecturing Seokjin about not swearing while they film.

It’s bright out, and Taehyung is still rolling about across the four of them in the tent. It’s uncomfortable, and Jimin and Jungkook are thrashing around trying to get out, but Yoongi just focuses on what he can see of Hoseok’s happy smile and waits for the PD to shout “Cut!” and for all of them to be shipped back to the dorms together, like the big dysfunctional family they are.

Re: suga/j-hope/(jungkook), light the spark 2/2

staygame - 2014-06-11 22:21 (UTC) - Expand

Re: suga/j-hope/(jungkook), light the spark 2/2

breadfruit - 2014-06-13 03:16 (UTC) - Expand

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designations - 2014-06-13 00:11 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

breadfruit - 2014-06-13 03:18 (UTC) - Expand

Title: rapid monologue

Pairing (or character): Rap Monster-centric

Prompt: "I was afraid I'd stand asymmetrical to the world's expectations / In case I betray all those who had faith in me / I straighten my heavy shoulders and go up on my first stage", unpack your bags

Author's note: for Namjoon, who shares my birthday. also for BTS, happy first anniversary! ♥

He discovers the beauty of rhymes at the early age of 12, chanting some English words he just learned at school, matching one word with another that sounds alike. It's called rapping, he finds out as he watches music programs on TV. Namjoon decides on a new hobby.

He familiarizes himself with various beats and spares some time to look for tongue twisters and try them out. He listens to music in class, each day becoming more and more careless about trying to hide it from his teachers. You with the headphone, his teacher would call, come up here and solve the problem. And Namjoon would stand up from his seat, gladly walking to the front of his class, because this is the perfect time to practice his swag. He'd grab a chalk and combine numbers with operators and write the solution, because what's hard about math, really? His teachers leave him alone after some time—Namjoon is smart enough to slack.

What do you want to do when you grow up, Namjoonie, his mother would ask. And little Namjoon would answer, I want to make music.

*

In high school, Namjoon learns the importance of communities. He finds people who completely understand why words and rhymes and beats and sound are the best things he has ever found. You should come with us sometime, one of his new friend says, have some fun.

School comes first is always, always his mother's answer when he asks for permission to stay out late and go see the underground performances. So finals week is Namjoon's only chance to reason, I'm staying at a friend's to study, and his mother would let him, and Namjoon would study a little and go to clubs to see actual rappers in action.

The first rap battle he ever witnessed makes Namjoon wonder how people can easily come up with disses for people they just met and barely know. He watches with amazement, making sure to take notice of the words people use, the way their bodies move as they deliver the lines. How do people make such witty comebacks at something they just heard, Namjoon thinks with envy.

He settles for watching up until the fifth night, when he assures himself that he, too, can do freestyle rap. He climbs up the stage and faces a tall guy with short red hair and pointy ears and tattoo on his face, who easily beats him on his third verse, going hey kid go home, don't you have finals tomorrow / rap's fun but it's not for people who can only follow / what are you, like, ten? / ask your mum if she'd let you try again. Namjoon gets off the stage with a smile and promises himself that he's never going to stop doing this—this is what he loves, this is what he's going to do.

He's going to make music.

*

You're really good, a man in a dark blazer says when Namjoon gets off the stage after winning his third rap battle in one night, second year of high school. The man holds out a business card, and his friends let out a choir of ooh, half-proud and half-jealous about the recognition Namjoon is getting. What do you want to do in life, Namjoon-ssi?

I want to make music, is still Namjoon's answer. The man smiles, give me a call and we can help you with that. The man nods and walks away, but before he's even out of the club, his phone rings and it's Namjoon—how will you help me make music. The man turns back with a smile. Tomorrow, he says, meet me at this cafe and I'll tell you.

So that's where he is the next day, sharply dressed with his hair styled neatly for once, sitting anxiously as the man explains about idols and training, and worldwide career and debuting, and a lot more. Namjoon, however, never seems to move on from the word idol and how much he despises it. Idols are not rappers and no rappers are idols, he thinks stubbornly. But the man mentions fame and recognition and people listening to what you make in such a way that young Namjoon actually starts considering it—going through trainings and all with the dream of finally, finally making music for everyone, and not just his friends and himself, to hear.

And Namjoon must really want it, because the next thing he knows he's trying to convince his mother to let him join, forcing his mother to let him enter the world he once, and still, uses in his nights of rap battles, going you rap like an idol. Idols are not rappers and rappers are never idols. School comes first is still his mother's answer, but Namjoon has proven himself to be fantastic at school and his mother has no reason to stop him from doing what he wants. So as a hesitant yes escapes his mother's lips and when soon forms are filled and paper works are filed, Namjoon realizes what he's becoming. He calls himself a rapper while enlisting to become an idol.

As long as I get to make music, Namjoon reasons to himself.

*

Training at the company is rigorous, and tiring, and outright stupid, because who dances while rapping, really? He meets and makes close friend with Hoseok, a guy who seems too happy to be rapping angrily about life and how sad it has become, and Yoongi, a guy who tries too hard to look badass when in truth he's just as silly and happy as Hoseok most of the time. Both know as well as Namjoon does, the way entering the idol industry has marred their reputations as underground rappers, and Namjoon finds it nice to have people who are in exactly the same place at life as he is.

Going back to the clubs and visiting (ex-)friends is just as tiring and outright stupid, because apparently the world knows what Namjoon is doing, that he has lowered himself to the point of training to be an idol, of all things, and therefore he is no longer a rapper, because idols are not rappers and no rappers are ever idols. But he makes it with Yoongi and Hoseok, finding places that still accept them, true friends who still respect them, and they perform occasionally at clubs, having fun and actually having fans, and it's rewarding, and Namjoon smiles to himself. I am making music, he thinks, this is what I want.

It feels like years into training and the illusion of debuting keeps showing up and leaving him, and the people he's supposed to debut with keep coming and going and coming and going. Namjoon stays, to his surprise, the desire to have people listen to his music overwhelming the pain and heartbreak of the never-coming debut stage. It's 2010 when they're finally given a name, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, whatever that's supposed to mean, but Namjoon doesn't care, because here it is, they have a name, debut should not be too far from now.

But even after their rap feature in 2AM sunbaenim's album, Namjoon is still there, still a trainee, not yet an idol and no longer accepted as a rapper, because idols are not rappers and rappers are not idols. New Year celebrations come and go just like the people he trains with, people he's supposed to be debuting with, and Namjoon is still there, losing count of how long it has been since the day he decides that being an idol is his answer to having people listen to his music, the lyrics he writes, the feeling he pours out. He sticks with Hoseok and Yoongi, making random music as they wait, clicking through the same passion for rapping and love for music, lost in the same dream of debuting that never seems to come true.

Hang in there, he remembers Jokwon sunbaenim once said. He's lying on his back, on the bunk bed he shares with Taehyung, sunbaenim's voice ringing in his head, saying I trained for eight years, and it's worth it. And that's probably why Namjoon stays, his rapping far better than when he entered the company, and his dancing now not too painful to watch. He probably isn't patient enough to wait eight years, but it's only been two and a half, and he can still hang in there. Hang in there, Namjoon.

I can still make music, he tells himself. And I'm here to have more people listen to it. That's all that matters.

Edited 2014-06-11 15:27 (UTC)

It's Hoseok who is the first to be lucky enough among all of them to find out just how good it feels to stand on a big, bright stage, rapping, dancing, having people look and cheer at him. Hoseok, who is featured in Jokwon sunbaenim's solo single, picked over Namjoon due to his exceptional dancing skills compared to Namjoon's. It's half pain and half pride that he feels, at nights when his future members and himself sit in a circle, listening to Hoseok telling tales of how grand the stage of Inkigayo is, how amazing the crowds of M Countdown are, how hectic the backstage of Music Core can get.

Hoseok has a way of carrying himself so that it's practically impossible to hate him. He's cheerful and all smiles, and despite his jealousy, Namjoon finds himself smiling back, patting Hoseok on the back and saying his congratulations. And Hoseok replies with a grin, one day it will be us, he says, gripping Namjoon's shoulder, our song, our lyrics, our raps. On a grand stage with an audience shouting our names. The thought of it is enough for Namjoon to grin back, ear to ear, and nod at Hoseok.

The promise of one day comes merely two months later, when their PD calls them to a room, all seven of them—him, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Seokjin, Jimin, and Jungkook—sitting down on the faux-wooden floor of the practice room, telling them that they're going to debut. Soon, he says, for real, he promises. He tells them to pick a leader, and in between blissful smiles and content grins, it's Namjoon that everyone chooses, saying he's been here the longest, he deserves it the most. It's one more burden for Namjoon, after his stage name, Rap Monster, because who in their right mind would call themselves Rap Monster, really? It brings expectations that Namjoon doesn't know he can fulfill, but that's the least of his worry for now. He's got a team to lead, a debut to prepare, photo shoots to attend, recordings to create, lyrics to write.

One day finally comes in the form of June 2013, when his face, huge sunglasses covering his eyes, finds its way to the pages of news sites, Bangtan Boys Debut Teaser, the title says, and Namjoon can feel his heart beats much faster than it should. It's only days now, he thinks as he practices the moves to his debut song, his debut song, and he almost falls down, more because of the weight in his heart than the complicated steps of the choreography. He gets nightmares about his dreams coming true and not being good enough for the people who root for him—he remembers the way his mother smiles as she says it's okay if he doesn't want to attend university, if being an idol is his dream. He thinks of the way some of his friends sneer at his decision of being an idol, and the way his other friends cheer him up whenever he feels like quitting. What if this doesn't work out? What if his group just becomes one of those that nobody remembers? What if he trains for years just to debut and be forgotten? Namjoon just wants to do well, so well, just wants to make people proud of him.

No, Namjoon shakes his head, he wants to make music, and that's what he's doing. If he succeeds, he succeeds, if he doesn't, at least some people listened. Other things should not matter.

*

Training is nothing compared to real idol schedule, Namjoon realizes as he tries to sneak some sleep on their van, moving at 4 AM to the recording of today's music broadcast. He reaches the broadcast station and sits with his eyes half-asleep as random strangers come over with BB cream and hairspray, doing his makeup and hair. Namjoon doesn't mind—he can still feel the ecstasy of their debut stage yesterday, the way his body stops shaking as soon as the familiar beat of the song they've been practicing for so long starts playing, as the first lines of his rap, the one he wrote himself, are out of his mouth. It's everything he didn't know he needed to feel—the sound of the crowd, the bright light of the stage, the banners with the words Bangtan Boys on it, the sunbaenims watching from backstage.

But of course with recognition, comes the pain of harsh comments—what's with the name, why the sunglasses, what is that hair. He must be ugly, that's why he's given shades to cover his face. He's not that good at rapping, why is he self-proclaiming himself as a monster. Namjoon tries to ignore the things coming from strangers who don't care and are probably just envious of the fact that he's famous, but it's the comments from people he used to know, the ones he hears accidentally when visiting clubs, that hurt more. He used to be on the same underground scene as I am, Namjoon overheard one time, he's good, but calling himself rap monster is a bit much. He used to be a simple guy wearing oversized t-shirts and snapbacks, Namjoon caught another time, now he's all makeup and fancy clothes, it's tacky. Namjoon blocks the negative comments as much as he can, although sometimes some things get under his skin. They're just jealous, he convinces himself, that I am young and living my dreams.

And then it gets tiring, rapping the same lines over and over again, four times a week and sometimes more, but even so, Namjoon tries to enjoy it. A voice in the back of his mind still sometimes wonders if it's the right decision to be an idol, with little to no chance to rap freestyle, repeating what he's done again and again, in thick makeup and pretentious hairdos. Under a stage name that nobody would ever choose for themselves, he wonders if he's become too much of an idol and not enough of a rapper.

Namjoon never worries for long, though, because he'd look around and the happiness is unmistakable in the faces of the members, the same bliss that he knows is mirrored on his own face, because he's fought for so long to get here. Namjoon secretly thanks his PD for giving him sunglasses to cover his eyes, because he's tearing up at every end of their debut stages. He's making music, and hundreds of people are there to listen to what he made. That's what he's here for, and whether he's a rapper or an idol, shouldn't matter.

*

Time flies and before he knows it he's already had multiple successful fan signing events, performed in hundreds of events and broadcasts and concerts, bleached and colored his hair numbers of times. Bangtan is doing well, actually winning things at award shows, even going overseas for awards and fan meetings. Namjoon is no longer afraid of being forgotten, because he knows people noticed, because he has an army of fans, and Namjoon cannot deny that he loves it. He's living in the spotlight, enjoying the glamorous status of an idol, thousands of people now listening to the lyrics he creates. But in the dark of the night, under exhaustion of his tight schedule, Namjoon would once again find himself asking if he's forgetting to be a rapper, too entangled in idol lifestyle.

It's the confusion of his status as an idol and his desire to be called a rapper that sometimes break him and he would lose the smile he has to wear onscreen, and instead frown and yell at anyone he comes in contact with. Seokjin would scold him for being insensitive, because everyone else is tired, too, and the leader shouldn't be making them feel worse. Yoongi likes to take a more silent approach, patting his back carefully when he passes him in the hallways, knowing that the frustration will be over soon, that Namjoon goes through this kind of breakdown every once in a while but it always passes. Hoseok would try to make him smile and sometimes he succeed sometimes he doesn't, but he always, always try. The maknaes are mostly too scared to even approach him, although sometimes Taehyung would awkwardly come and give him hugs, muttering I'm sorry hyung, I hope you're okay.

It's one of those days, and Taehyung had just climbed back down to the bottom bunk after nudging Namjoon's shoulder with his nose, whispering, hyung, are you okay. Namjoon answers with a hum while wondering if he's being selfish. Because if he's hesitant about being there and one day decides to leave, that idol life isn't the answer to his dream, then he would be leaving six kids who have dreamed with him for so long, the ones who are always, always there for him. And it's the realization that he has a family there, the people who suffered together with him, the kids who share his laugh at the hardest times, the ones he's singing with, that makes Namjoon thinks that yes, he's staying, there, as an idol, as a rapper, whatever you'd like to call it. Because labels shouldn't matter when he's doing what he's always wanted to do—he's making music.

*

Namjoon realizes over time, just how much labels don't matter. He rids himself of the uncertainty of being called an idol, because what's so bad about being an idol, really? It's because he's an idol that he's all set to debut in Japan, invited to perform in LA, making documentary show in China—he's going international. Soon he will have tens of thousands of people listening to his music, and how many people are lucky enough to have so much recognition at such an early age?

Namjoon thinks about being thankful, that his life is full of bliss, that all his sacrifices are worth it and that all his insecurities are unnecessary. He steals glances to his sides, to his fellow members who are waving at the fans in front of them, smiling, grinning, living their dreams. He looks ahead to the sea of lime green lights shining in the darkness of the concert hall, finding banners with his name here and there. And as the faint light of the stage grows brighter, and the words Bangtan Boys Official Japan Fan Meeting are visible behind him, he smiles and raises a hand.

"2, 3, Bang! Tan! Hello, we are Bangtan Boys!"

Re: rapid monologue 2/2

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-21 12:29 (UTC) - Expand

Re: rapid monologue 2/2

nekokonneko - 2014-09-08 22:40 (UTC) - Expand

Title: Yes, Hyung
Pairing (or character): Rap Monster/Jungkook
Warnings: Implications of sex/Namjoon taking advantage of Kookie. In my mind, this is set when Bangtan has already been around a couple years, so Jungkook is eighteen, but I don't really make it explicit, so take it as you will :p
Prompt: please the leader kink => aka Jungkook just wants Namjoon's approval for everything and anything
ranging from laundry folding to blowjobs

"Jungkook, that was brilliant!"

The maknae broke into a grin, his dark eyes shrinking into two crescents on his pale face. Namjoon smirked a little, looking over the lyrics again in the notebook that the younger male had handed him. This kid really was golden. Singing, dancing, rapping - Namjoon wasn't sure why he'd had reservations when Jungkook asked to try his hand at writing his own rap, honestly. The kid could do it all.

"He's going to show us all up," Hoseok remarked, leaning on Namjoon's shoulders as he peered over to see what all the hype was about. "Damn it! I'm not even halfway done with mine! Give them here, I need inspiration!" He snatched the notebook from Namjoon's hands, looking it over. "Jungkook, run through it once more so I can hear how it sounds with the beat, okay?"

Jungkook's eyes didn't leave Namjoon's. The leader gave him a little nod of approval and a warm smile - something that was rare in the midst of writing and recording - and he could have sworn he noticed a tinge of pink to the maknae's cheeks.

"Yes, hyung."

x

Namjoon began to notice the way that Jungkook's eyes changed when the leader said his name. If Jimin or Taehyung gave the teen an order, he would scoff at them more often than not, and only complete the task if it was something wholly necessary. An order from Yoongi or Hoseok would be completed more promptly, but never without a hint of attitude (Hoseok never failed to find this amusing, whereas Yoongi never failed to call him a little shit and give him a scolding that would go ignored). He listened to Seokjin, for the most part, simply out of respect for the oldest of the group, but no one missed the occasional eye rolling when Jin occasionally let that power get to his head.

It was different when Namjoon spoke. Whether he was suggesting another take because Jungkook was half a second late on his line, or asking him to keep quiet so that he could nap between schedules, or begging the maknae to take his turn to clean dishes because his muscles ached from practicing the same dance move a hundred times over that day - no matter the request, Jungkook stood at attention, dark eyes wide and focused.

A smile on the leader's face was even better. When Namjoon smiled, Jungkook smiled. It was definitely a curious phenomenon, one that Namjoon couldn't figure out how to explain. All he could really do was try not to let it go to his head.

"Wow, hyung...you have a lot of knots," Jungkook commented, strong fingers rubbing firm circles into the muscles of Namjoon's shoulder. "Does this feel okay?"

"Hm...a little harder..." Namjoon urged, though the truth was, he was already melting into a puddle under the younger man's touch. Jungkook was good with his hands. Namjoon was trying not to think of the future implications, but he couldn't help it - the gears were already turning.

"Yes, hyung," Jungkook replied cheerfully, and Namjoon shivered a little at the feeling of his breath against the name of his neck. He liked Jungkook's speaking voice, soft and sweet against his skin.

He wondered, idly, what he could make it do.

x

"H-Hyung..."

There's a note of uncertainty to Jungkook's voice, not that Namjoon is really surprised. He knows - for a /fact/ - that the kid's had girlfriends, that he's fooled around, but this is significantly more dangerous territory for both of them.

"Don't be nervous. I'm your hyung," Namjoon urges, pulling Jungkook close and pressing a reassuring kiss into his dark hair. "It's no big deal. Just think of it as a little exchange of favors."

"Ah...I'm not nervous," Jungkook defends himself, though the bit of unnatural vibrato to his voice suggests otherwise. "I've just...wanted to do this for a while."

It's such a genuine, honest answer, and Namjoon is surprised - but then he feels the maknae's palm slide against his eager flesh through his sweatpants, and he can't really think about anything except for how badly he wants the clothing gone.

"F-Fuck, Jungkook..."

Jungkook still feels tentative as he kisses the leader's neck, but as his lips move downwards, Namjoon can feel a ghost of a smile on his lips. He can picture the maknae's soft, pink lips, and he suddenly feels the room get a whole lot warmer. He strains his ears to listen for the others, but they seem fairly occupied with the movie they're watching in the living room.

"Jungkook, use your mouth for me..."

Jungkook pulls back with a blush dusting his cheeks. He smiles that smile of his, gives him the sexiest, most subtle little lip bite, and grips the waist of Namjoon's pants to remove them. Namjoon swears, he's going to lose it then and there.

"Yes, hyung."

Asdfghjklñ THIS!
it's my first namkook(? And it's pretty good
Thank you for writing this

Title: Same Difference
Pairing (or character): Jin/Rap Monster
Prompt: they meet at the same bus stop every day, but never talk. AU.
Note: BTS, happy first anniversary! ♥

He's late. Again. Seokjin is still getting used to this whole living alone and waking up to an alarm thing. He rushes to the bakery on the corner of his street, because late or not, breakfast is still the most important meal of the day. He puts a chocolate bun in his mouth and speed walks to the bus stop a little further ahead.

That guy is already there. He's no longer wearing his shades—he has beautiful eyes, Seokjin really likes them. He straightened his hair, too. Seokjin takes a seat on the other end of the bench, biting on his bun. The bus should come any minute now.

*

He's late. Again. He's running now, because unfortunately breakfast is less important than the test he's supposed to be taking in fifteen minutes. Seokjin hopes the bus doesn't take long—he really doesn't want to have to retake Advanced Statistics.

That guy is already there, Seokjin notices in between panting. He can't really see the color of the guy's hair today, because he has his hoodie covering his head. His eyes are closed, his feet moving to some beat. Seokjin wonders what he does—he's never seen him take a bus the whole time he meets him there. Seokjin is always the first one to go. Seokjin wonders if it's normal to be this curious about a stranger.

And the bus comes.

*

He's late. Again. Seokjin really needs to stop staying up so late. He rushes to the bakery and the owner is already waiting for him by the door, handing him a chocolate bun with a smile and you can pay for that later. Seokjin bows his thank you and continue running to the bus stop.

The guy is already there, sitting with one hand holding a notepad and the other scribbling with a black pen. Seokjin wonders what he's writing—he looks like he's having so much fun, his hand tapping along to the beat coming from his earphone, pressing the tip of his pen on his mouth when he's thinking, and he grins at times when he seems to be struck by inspiration.

There's a honk coming from the road. The bus is here.

*

He's late. Again. Really, Seokjin? Maybe he should stop making appointments so early in the morning, especially when it is one very unimportant meet up with Hoseok. Seokjin wonders why he bothers showing up on time at all, but he doesn't want to be known for being tardy. He doesn't rush, though—he knows Hoseok would be at least fifteen minutes late, too. He has enough time to get a chocolate bun from the bakery and eat it on the bus stop.

Seokjin frowns. The guy isn't there yet. Seokjin moves closer to the bench, and oh, the guy is there, after all. He's crouched down on one end of the bench, talking on the phone. A red beanie covers his currently silver hair—it was blond yesterday. Seokjin thinks silver works better. Seokjin really doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the guy has shitty phone and he might as well have it on speaker, with the way his caller's voice can be heard from where Seokjin is sitting. Come home, Namjoon, Seokjin manages to catch. Namjoon is a nice name—Seokjin likes the sound of it. I miss you.

He gets to hear the guy's voice while climbing inside the bus. I miss you too, mum. It's low, and hoarse, Seokjin thinks he has a nice voice.

Seokjin smiles in his entire bus ride.

*

He's not late, for once. Seokjin has nowhere to go today—well, it would be ideal if he goes to the library and finish his essays, but that can wait until later. He starts to wonder if he can catch a glimpse of the guy, Namjoon, in the bus stop. Why he wants to, he doesn't really know—maybe he's just got used to starting his day with the sight of the guy in the bus stop, the one who always looks different but somehow feels the same.

He walks leisurely to the bakery, sparing time for coffee, even. This is the way of life, apparently. This is so much more pleasant than rushing and running and being in a hurry every single day. He takes two buns this time, because he actually has time to finish both. He smiles and chats with the lady in the bakery, and finally skips to the bus stop.

Namjoon is already there. No shades and no beanies, and Seokjin is a little embarrassed to say that he notices the way his hair has grown—he used to have shaved sides, not anymore now. He looks so much more beautiful like this, Seokjin thinks shamelessly. He doesn't look as busy, without his notepad and pen, without his earphones. For once, he looks up at Seokjin and flashes him a smile. Seokjin is definitely caught off guard when he returns the smile on impulse.

He hesitates, but Seokjin really hates regretting things, so he squeezes the paper bag on his hand and approaches the other guy.

"Morning," he greets, raising the paper bag. "Breakfast?"

Title: Late Night Distractions
Pairing (or character): Suga/Jimin
Warnings: NC-17, mild breathplay
Prompt: Suga/Jimin - asphyxiation kink

The clock ticks loudly on the wall, and Yoongi is finding it really hard to concentrate on anything else but the rhythmic sound as the second hand makes each rotation around its axis.
The night is quiet and everyone else is dead to the world, leaving Yoongi alone with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. Which, at this moment, isn’t doing him any good as his brain seems to be just as fried out as a burnt out light bulb.
Great.
He knew he shouldn’t have put that philosophy final paper off for the last minute, and now he is suffering the consequences.
This is what he gets for keeping that fool Namjoon around as his best friend.
Three consecutive days of nonstop drinking competitions on who can outlast the other, eight hours of pounding headache and dry heaving into the toilet, three hours of alternately staring blankly between his computer screen and textbook, the words dancing around his vision in a conga line of letters and punctuation marks, and Yoongi is still two thousand words short of completing his assignment that’s worth forty percent of his final grade.
Fuck.
“Ugh,” Yoongi throws himself face down on the coffee table, arms stretched out and back hunched over as he tries to relax the strain in his too dried eyes from too many hours of staring down his laptop monitor. The paper deadline is at noon the next day, and it’s already almost three in the morning. Which gives him a little less than ten hours to finish, and the only things he has typed up so far are his name, date, and subject title.
Yoongi is mumbling something along the lines of “damnit, Kim Namjoon” and “destroy” into the wooden surface when a light knock on the door catches his attention.
“What?” Yoongi blinks at the door in confusion. It’s three in the morning. Who the hell is even awake at this hour?
The knocking persists.
“Hold on!” Yoongi shouts, hauling himself off the floor. “Give me a sec!”
“Hello? Hyung?” Yoongi hears a muted voice, a voice he can recognize even in his deepest, darkest hours of sleep.
“Jimin?” Yoongi asks in surprise as he unlocks the door and swings it open. “It’s so late. What are you doing here?”
Yoongi finds Jimin standing before him, hoodie pulled low over his face, and plucking at the hems of his sleeves out of nervous habit. Which surprises him. What’s going on? What reason does Jimin have to be nervous?
“Hey hyung, you busy?” Jimin’s voice sounds a bit higher than usual, cracking on his words. And it piques Yoongi’s curiosity even more.
“Yeah, well. I have a pa-“ Yoongi begins. But he doesn’t really get the chance to finish his sentence before Jimin quickly closes the distance, crashing into Yoongi’s chest and attaching his mouth onto Yoongi’s surprised ones.
Jimin’s fists curl around the nape of Yoongi’s neck, pressing and pulling in an attempt to mesh their bodies as close as possible.
“I guess you can come in,” Yoongi laughs in between kisses, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s waist and kicking the door shut after pulling the younger all the way inside the apartment. Yoongi stumbles over a carelessly tossed shoe on the floor, staggering backwards with Jimin still clutched tightly in his embrace.
This doesn’t deter Jimin from his attack on Yoongi’s lips, slowly pushing against the elder’s chest until Yoongi’s back makes contact with the far wall.
“You know, not that I don’t absolutely love having you over,” Yoongi breathes when Jimin finally detaches long enough to start kissing down his neck. “What are you doing here? I told you I had a paper due.”
“I missed you,” Jimin mumbles in response, mouth full of Yoongi’s skin.
“I missed you too,” Yoongi moans when Jimin gives a particularly hard suck along his clavicles.
“I feel like I never see you anymore,” Jimin continues, grazing teeth against shoulders as his hood falls back from his face.
“I had finals. You had finals. We were both pretty bus-”
“Yeah, but you had enough time to hang out with Namjoonie hyung?” Jimin huffs, suddenly pulling back far enough to frown his disapproval. And Yoongi feels at a loss, missing the warmth radiating from Jimin’s body. “You don’t have enough time to even have lunch with me, but you have enough time to go out drinking with him.”
Statement, not question.
Yoongi really doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he begins, playing for time. When Jimin starts inching away, Yoongi grabs him by the wrists and keeps him still. “It just kind of… happened that way,” he finishes lamely.
Jimin’s raises his brows questioningly.
“You know how Namjoon is,” Yoongi pouts, unable to find the right words to explain. His hands slide down Jimin’s wrists to lace their fingers together. “He gets all cocky and annoying. And you know I never back down from a challenge.”
“Uh huh,” Jimin hums skeptically.
“I said I’m sorry,” Yoongi slightly panics when Jimin slides his fingers out of his grasp, taking a small step back. He’s having difficulty figuring out the expression on Jimin’s face at the moment.
Why is he getting so red?
“Jimin?” Yoongi’s arms stay suspended before him as Jimin backs away. “Are you-“
His words get caught in his throat as Jiimin slowly pulls his hoodie over his head, cheeks burning brighter with every passing second.
“-okay…”
Yoongi’s voice dies out, mouth going dry when he realizes Jimin is wearing nothing under his hoodie. All bare skin, save for the thin band of lacy black choker encased around his neck.
Yoongi blinks, eyes entranced by the contrast of the lace on creamy skin.
With an awkward cough, Jimin tosses his sweater off to the side.
A slow grin stretches across Yoongi’s lips. He reaches out to run the tip of his fingers delicately across the choker.
“So, what’s this?” Yoongi steps closer, brushing his thumb over Jimin’s heated cheeks.
“I thought it might be fun,” Jimin’s voice quivers, but his gaze is steady.
“Fun,” Yoongi nods. “Right.”
“I have matching underwear,” Jimin comments, and that is all the invitation Yoongi needs to pull Jimin up into his arms and carry him away from the living room.
Jimin resumes his nibbling on Yoongi’s neck as the elder carries him down the hall, jiggling the doorknob to his room open and not bothering to close the door before unceremoniously dumping Jimin on his bed.
“Hey!”
“You’re lucky my roommate already left for the summer,” Yoongi says in a low voice, a predatory gleam in his eye.
“Is that so?” Jimin gulps, pushing himself up on his elbows. But before he can make any real movements, Yoongi grabs him by the ankles and drags him back down the bed.
Yoongi hovers over Jimin’s body, kneeling on the edge of the bed in between Jimin’s thighs.
Jimin can hear the blood thundering in his ears, heart pounding as he gazes up into Yoongi’s grinning face.
“So, how about you show me those matching panties?” Yoongi whispers, ghosting over jimin’s parted lips. He slides the palm of his hand down Jimin’s side, tracing over the slight curve of his waist, before teasing fingers dance across the hem of Jimin’s sweatpants.
“Why don’t you help me out, old man?” Jimin replies in a cheeky tone, gaining a little bit of confidence from the effect he seems to have on the elder.
Jimin can feel it in the burn of Yoongi’s hands as they travel across his body, mapping out every stretch of skin until Jimin’s blood is boiling beneath the surface. He can feel it in the insistent nip and tug of Yoongi’s teeth, kissing fervently, heatedly until Jimin’s own are red and bruised, licking his tongue across his lips that demand more attention. He can feel it in the urgency of Yoongi’s fingers as the elder tugs the last of his clothing away, tossing the sweatpants over his shoulder haphazardly across the room.
“I like it,” Yoongi breathes, taking in all of Jimin’s body in his black laced glory. The lace underwear he’s sporting does nothing in the way of hiding his growing bulge straining against the thin material. And Yoongi thinks Jimin looks criminally hot.
“You’re still wearing clothes,” Jimin whines, back arching off the mattress and clinging onto Yoongi’s back as Yoongi traces his lips lightly up the plane of Jimin’s stomach, dropping soft kisses here and there until he’s once again bruising Jimin’s lips with another heated kiss.
“That can be fixed,” Yoongi smiles as he pulls away, Jimin’s fingernails scratching lightly into his skin as his hands fall back onto the bed. Jimin watches with rapt attention as Yoongi slowly, deliberately, pulls his t-shirt up over his head, tossing the piece of fabric somewhere along the floor near Jimin’s sweats.
Yoongi’s philosophy paper and its imminent due date is all but forgotten as he kicks off his boxers and flannel pajama pants, also joining the rest of their clothing on the floor.
“Hands and knees,” Yoongi commands with a flick of the wrist.
“So bossy,” Jimin wrinkles his nose, but follows his orders immediately as Yoongi walks over to his dresser to dig through his sock drawer for his bottle of lube and condoms.
“Good boy,” Yoongi saunters back to the bed, Jimin glancing over his shoulder to stick out his tongue.

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up, old man,” Jimin teases, curving his back and wiggling his butt sticking up in the air. Yoongi shifts the supplies into one hand, reaching over to slip a finger underneath the thin layer of Jimin’s underwear, raise it a few inches, and release it with a slap lower down Jimin’s thighs.
“Ow!”
“You keep running that mouth of yours,” Yoongi drops the condom and uncaps the lube, squeezing out a generous amount onto his palm. “And I just,” he slides his lube slicked fingers up in between Jimin’s crack, gently rubbing the pad of his finger around the rim. “Might,” he slowly slips one finger inside, feeling Jimin’s muscles tightening against him. “Take my goddamn time,” Yoongi places a soft kiss on the dip of Jimin’s back, sliding his finger in and out.
Jimin moans, breath hitching in his throat and thighs shuddering as one finger is joined by another, then another, as Yoongi slowly works him open, stretching him out until Jimin is shaking his head, what for, he’s not even sure.
“Please,” the words fall from Jimin’s lips, small beads of sweat collecting around his hairline. He gazes over his shoulder with heavily lidded eyes, pleading. And Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice.
There’s a bit more haste in Yoongi’s movements as he rolls on the condom and slicks himself up, because he’s getting impatient as well. It drives him crazy, those small noises that Jimin produces in the back of his throat when he’s being pleased. And it took all of Yoongi’s patience and self-restraint to stretch Jimin out just right, holding back from just tossing him onto the bed and fucking him right then and there.
But now, he gets to move in for his prize.
Yoongi climbs back onto the bed on his knees, positioning himself behind and aligning his cock with Jimin’s hole. He places his hand along the curve of Jimin’s ass, spreading his cheek with his thumb to allow more room as he slowly fills up the space his fingers had been previously. Yoongi allows Jimin time to adjust when he’s fully seated to the hilt, but Jimin seems to have other plans in mind.
“Move,” Jimin pants harshly, fingers digging into the fabric of Yoongi’s comforter bunched underneath his hands.
“My pleasure,” Yoongi smiles, pulling out just until the tip and thrusting back in with force. Jimin grunts, head hanging low and body burning with pleasure for more. And Yoongi complies.
It’s not gentle, the way Yoongi presses into him repeatedly, filling Jimin again and again as Jimin pushes back into Yoongi’s pelvis in an attempt to suck him in deeper.
Cool hands sooth over heated skin like a balm, so very gentle in contrast to the frantic, harsh movements, only getting jerkier and faster with every thrust.
Jimin’s breathy moans and soft mewls spur Yoongi on to move even faster, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Jimin’s waist, sure to leave a smattering of bruises in the morning.
Everything is so damn hot, a blur of sounds and motions that don’t fully register in Yoongi’s thoughts pounding with his adrenaline rush.
His entire world narrows down to Jimin, in this moment.
Everything is Jimin, and Jimin is everything.
The soft sound of his voice, the taste of his skin, the feel of his heat surrounding him to the point of suffocation.
He’s getting close, so damn close. And Yoongi knows Jimin is too. He can tell by the way Jimin’s breath stuttering in his chest, his thighs shaking and lips whispering wanton syllables and characters that don’t really make sense at this point.
Yoongi leans over to press his lips onto Jimin’s sweaty skin, biting down on Jimin’s shoulder with his hips never once stuttering in its ceaseless pace. The prickly fabric of Jimin’s lace choker brushes across Yoongi’s cheek, catching his attention.
Yoongi straightens out again, fingers twisting into the back of Jimin’s choker and asserting just the slightest pressure. Jimin’s eyes go wide, twisting over his shoulder to shoot Yoongi a panicked look.
“Hyung, I can’t breathe,” Jimin wheezes, falling onto one elbow and trying to reach back to scratch at Yoongi’s knuckles.
But Yoongi slams in particularly hard, and Jimin’s vision fades to white, neon violet lights sparking behind his eyes. Jimin can’t breathe, not only from the constraint pressing down on his neck, but also from the pressure slowly building in his core, his heart pounding rapidly in chest, blood rushing through his veins.
Jimin falls onto both elbows, forehead digging into the blankets and gasping for air. His head is spinning and his body is thrumming, the lack of air intensifying the pleasure coursing through his system. He can feel the sharp buzzing tingles beginning from the tips of his fingers and toes, traveling all through his limbs, until his entire body is submerged under a wave of electricity that has him moaning out loud into the mattress, shooting out ropes of white onto Yoongi’s comforter as his orgasm hits hard and out of nowhere, taking Jimin completely by surprise.
Yoongi is still fucking Jimin wide open, the younger barely registering anything else accept for the mind numbing oblivion as his entire body is used and abused, arms and legs quivering with exhaustion. Yoongi follows not long after, pushing in one last time as deep as he can go as Jimin’s muscles tighten hot and heavy around him, squeezing him out for everything he’s got.
Body hunched over Jimin’s back, Yoongi rests his forehead along Jimin’s spine, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath.
“Hyung,” Jimin croaks, voice muffled by the blankets still pressed into his face.
“Hm?” Yoongi hums lazily, basking in the blissful afterglow of his post-orgasm.
“I still can’t breathe,” Jimin coughs, and Yoongi laughs.
“Whoops, my bad,” Yoongi slowly releases his hold on Jimin’s choker, blood rushing back to his extremities and his fingers and toes vibrating with sharp pricks.
“I can’t feel my toes,” Jimin whimpers, wiggling them for a few seconds before giving up. “I’m so tired.”
“You can sleep here,” Yoongi replies, pulling out his softening dick so he can tie off the condom and throw it away. Jimin topples over onto his side, blinking at Yoongi with sleepy eyes.
“What about you?” Jimin frowns, squirming out of his lace underwear and flinging it over the bed.
“I still have my paper,” Yoongi grunts, plopping down onto the edge of the bed.
“Oh, that,” Jimin cringes, maneuvering closer towards Yoongi’s body with the least muscle movement possible. Jimin curls himself around behind Yoongi’s body, settling his head on the elder’s lap. “Sorry. That wasn’t actually factored into my plans when I was trying to figure things out.”
“I should ignore you more often,” Yoongi teases, ruffling Jimin’s fluff of trainwrecked hairstyle.
“You’re mean,” Jimin smiles, eyelids fluttering shut and breaths slowly evening out.
Yoongi sighs, gazing longingly at Jimin’s face.
Damn that paper.
Maybe for just ten minutes?

Re: Late Night Distractions

(Anonymous) - 2015-01-15 13:13 (UTC) - Expand

Title: untitled
Pairing (or character): J-Hope-centric, very slight!J-Hope/V
Warnings: very abstract concepts
Prompt: sometimes taehyung plays his saxophone in the streets to relieve stress and maybe gain a few cash, hoseok who has just got out of work stops to listen. this ended up being more j-hope-centric than vhope, tbh. my apologies. it didn't turn out the way i'd hoped it to. i do hope someone fills this prompt proper, though.

-

There are the days where the weather lets fall more than it should along the rim of his umbrella. The days where blustery winds are more than enough to sweep the hair off his forehead in one fell swoop, the days where the sticky heat is more than enough to glue the back of his coat to the back of his shirt to the skin of his back, the days where the soft patter of rain coincides with the quiet clacking of soles and heels along the toughened pavement of the sidewalks, scurrying away, scattering away.

The city never sleeps, and neither does Hoseok, when the night gets too cold and too weary for him here. He could probably never get used to this, the way the cars honk listlessly below in the streets, loud enough to rouse him jerkily from the precarious sleep that he’s fallen into, the uncertain slumber that never lasts long enough to erase the eye-bags that have taken up almost-permanent dwelling in the curve beneath his tired eyes, so tired, so tired and wired and a reflection of the never-ending work that haunts even the flashes of dreamscape that his mind is allowed to have, once in a while.

The city never sleeps, and neither does Hoseok, not when there is always something that calls to his attention, not when there is always another job to be done. Not when there is always something else that requires him to drag himself out from the temporary shelter of his sheets, that requires him to slip on the mask that he’s carefully built up for himself over the years, that requires him to carefully wipe away every trace of himself on every surface of this flat he occupies, before departing.

The city never sleeps, and neither does Hoseok, for there are the days where the weather will let fall more than it should, along the rim of his umbrella and the trim of his hat, and the thread of his gloves, and the last breath that occupies the space between can never compare to the quiet dim that buzzes in after, barely seconds, seconds, seconds later.

His shoes are new, brand new and slick and polished, but the water that pushes itself up from the sewers swirls around the backs of his heels, catching the hems of his trousers, and Hoseok makes a mental reminder to get them cleaned again later. It would not do to even have the slightest indication of which streets he’s been walking late into the four a.m. twilight zone.

There are still the ones who never sleep, apart from him. Those whose veins sing with the adrenaline that caffeine lends at a price, those who cannot afford to sleep, those who wish to sleep but find that they have nowhere to, those who just do not sleep. He passes all these figures on a regular basis, but they never notice him. Nobody ever notices him. It makes him good at what he does.

He takes a quick turn into the subway, pulling down his umbrella as he does, straightening it as he dips into the station, making sure to tug his hat over his eyes, almost casually, a natural motion that never gets a wary eye. Everything about him is practiced and controlled. A stark difference from who he usually is in the times the sun blares down on him, matching the disposition that he wears for the benefit of those around him.

Midnight musicians, they make the subway a regular haunt. Hoseok has come and gone and seen so many, Hoseok has come and gone and clinked a couple of coins into hats, guitar cases, coats laid out across the pavement. Hoseok has seen the famous violinists hiding under shrouds of obscurity, lonely guitarists with only their guitars and a loop pedal for company, vocal groups of five singing to the high arches and the unending tunnels and the flash of trains that speed past like neon lights, if you shut your eyes just enough.

Hoseok has never seen him, though. The saxophonist who stands by the nearest barrier to the seventh hanging sign from the left.

Young kid. A snapback sits atop a messy mop of hair, bangs falling into his face, but he doesn’t seem to register it. The saxophone in his hands commands all attention, commands his attention, commands Hoseok’s attention too, even though he’s never been one for the brass, even though he’s got more important things at hand, matters that require his attention in full, and yet—

And yet. Hoseok slows down to listen. Hoseok passes by, paced slower than he usually is, and watches the way the kid’s fingers glide across the side of his saxophone. He knows his instrument well. His fingers move in muscle memory, move in tandem with the short and elongated breaths that he alternates. He moves in rhythm with the song that he plays, he moves like he knows the music, he knows it, and it knows him.

And the song, the song. It begins soft, like his first impression. It builds, like how Hoseok is seeing this kid, now. Building, weaving this tale of what could be, and what is. The kid plays like it’s his story to tell, and it probably is. Each curve of his wrist, each note, pulled taut from the mouth of the saxophone, ringing sad throughout the subway, escalating into something that jumps and scurries and bounces away, hasty like a hare on a race, but the slow trod that follows after is reminiscent of the slow patter of the rain outside, that echoes the one-step, two-step, three-four-five-step notes that float quietly upwards and outwards and maybe into the ears of an unsuspecting passerby who doesn’t expect to hear the waning moon cry across steel tracks and electric rails.

Hoseok stops. He glances at his watch. It reads something that reminds him to keep moving. His hand fishes around in his pocket to find a coin to flip towards the kid, but it’s then he notices that he’s not busking. He’s just—playing.

“Lonely night?” comes the kid’s voice. The kid smiles. Somewhere behind them, Hoseok’s train arrives. “Me too.”

Hoseok smiles back, tips his hat, and disappears into the train carriage. Two hours later, he returns on the same train, to the same platform, and nothing about him has changed. He’s still the same person he’d been when he’d left. Nothing has changed, because Hoseok has made it so.

And the boy is still playing, but now the moon has ceased its tears and now his song speaks of the sun waxing in the sky, climbing those light steps up into the firmaments, where it takes its rightful place and casts warmth down once more.

Hoseok opens the door to his flat, hangs his coat on the hooks on the wall, shucks his shoes to a side. He leans over the sink in the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror, and dares to look at himself, like he does, every single night he returns from a job. He’s tethered to both sides of time, the night and the day, for two different reasons. It’s astonishing how he manages to do it.

He scrubs his hands with soap and hot water until his knuckles go raw. He throws everything he’d been wearing away into the trash. He carefully cleans every trace of him being anywhere else but at home that night, and carefully cleans away himself, cleans away the night and what happens in the night.

In about three hours, Hoseok will put on a shirt and a tie, slacks and shoes, and he will carry a briefcase to work, as he has always done. He will smile at everyone, crack the worst jokes, and tease everyone, from his desk-mates to the secretaries at the help desk. He will bask in the light of the sun and comment cheerfully on the weather.

And he will pass by that same kid playing on the subway platform, who nods at him but not in recognition, but just as a friendly face passing by, and Hoseok will continue on his way, as if they night had never happened. Maybe Hoseok might even stop by, and smile. Comment on how well he plays. Ask his name, maybe. Ask how old he is. Ask if he's free, Friday evening. Ask if he prefers coffee or tea. And maybe the kid will smile, maybe the kid will answer, maybe the kid will play him a song if he asks for one. But the night? It had never happened.

To everyone else, the night never happens.

To everyone else, there is no night, in him.

But to him, the night will always be there. That night, and every other night before, and every other night to come. There will be no real laughter of the sun. The moon laments constant, ringing in his temples, buzzing in the palms of his hands, knocking away the last traces of sleep.

And if someone dares ask, in the office the next morning, “You’ve got a bit of red on your neck, there?”

Hoseok will smile, thumb it away surreptitiously, and say, “Just a little scrape.”

-

(deleted comment)

The best fluff that I have ever read
Owww this is too cute to handle
Thank you for writing this

Title: The Five Times Kim Seokjin Witnessed Kim Taehyung Blushing
Pairing (or character): Jin/V
Prompt: Jin/V - Fireworks are prettier when you hold someone’s hand. Seokjin swears.

I’m Kim Taehyung, 4th year Slytherin! I just hit you in the head with a Bludger! (http://queenofhunter93.livejournal.com/14811.html)

Title: The game is on
Pairing (or character): Suga/Jungkook
Warnings: underage sex
Prompt: Suga/Jungkook - Suga is a Basketball Coach, Jungkook is a player on the team AU

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1778842

Title: so, iron me (rewind me to the start)
Pairing (or character): J-Hope-centric
Warnings: abstract
Prompt: sometimes he can’t tell where j-hope ends and hoseok begins. title from so 4 more.

-

It starts here, in the soles of his scuffed-up shoes. The long-past worn-in Adidas sneakers that still squeak against the hardwood of the floor, even as he throws himself forward into this intricate dance that is no longer just the physical containments of himself, but everything that pours forward from the pores of his mind, from the tips of his fingers, from the palms of his hands that he lovingly presses to the imitation of the firmaments; an imitation, because he can never hope to reach the real thing.

It starts here, in the curve of his spine and the bend of his arm as he stretches out his line of vision towards the mirrors that surround him, surround him, surround him and encase him and flood his senses, like the screams and the lights and the cheers and the fears and the tears that do not come from his eyes but the eyes of people who see him as one figure and believe him to be another—but how can they, when even he can’t be sure if the words that slip from his lips are of one mask, or the other?

One mask, or the other. There is no original, no default. It is one mask, or the other.

Pressing his hands to his reflection, it burns. It burns with the memory of a hundred and more weeks passed in these very same rooms, in this very same place, in the place where he’d learnt to give himself up for a newer, improved version of what he thought he had been, in the place where he’d learnt to hold back everything, and yet, let stream out everything that made him, at the same time.

The balance is careful. The white noise unnerving.

He moves across the careful floor with cautious feet and hesitant steps, but they grow, they grow and flow and spin into a strange, uncontrollable thing that cannot be captured by the human eye, or on the starch black-and-white of film, nor can it be snatched up by any other means.

It is him. It is his alone to know, to live, to learn, to hold.

It starts here, in the way he brings his hands outwards and folds them to the rhythm of the beat that roars behind him from the speakers on the walls, the beat that matches the thundering rhythm in his chest, the beat that matches the thundering rhythm in the strained hollows of his wrists, the beat that matches the thundering rhythm in the base of his neck.

It starts here, eyes shut and limbs free, sweat slicking up the back of his hair and sticking the thin fabric of his shirt to his skin, he’s burning, burning, burning up and it’s not just the temperature anymore, it’s the knowledge that maybe in this he can remember again, he can remember who he is and why he began this and where he’s going to go after, where is he going to go, where is he going, where is he—

Hope, the word, it rises in his throat, it ties his hands together and forces the smile up onto his lips, hope, hope, what is he hoping for? What does he hope for, anymore?

Fall, fall, fall to your knees. He kneels slumped, panting, in the middle of the room, fingers curling into the floor, eyes still closed, eyes still shut away, just for this one moment. He can have this one moment. He can keep this one moment to himself, if not any of the others.

The live show of his life continues to play. The red light shifts, and the green light rings out, reigns supreme. He pushes forth, slides back into the graceful, easy movements that he is known and adored for, and those graceful, easy movements that are all he knows and adores, for that is him, that is the real him, there can be no other when this is where his roots tether firm, there can be no other when this is all he could ever want to do with the short time that the delayed coming of the grand sleep of life has granted him.

It starts here, and it ends here, in him, somewhere. He presses his hands against his chest to feel his breath escape him. It comes out as a murmur, a whisper, a prayer for that thing he has lost, that thing still to be found, what is it, what is it?

A reason, perhaps. A reason for all of this. For keeping on, keeping on, even when it feels like he’s just going to keep falling, tumbling away into this utter state of confusion and regret and the silence that eats him up even when his words are the loudest in the room. There are no refuges for sad smiles. There are no reliefs for the downcast gazes. There is no aid granted to the heavy heart.

You traverse alone, you carry your bones, you carry your world on your shoulders, for who else will do it for you, if not you?

His shoulders may slip, but he will not let it fall. Despite it all.

So it begins here, it starts here, this is not where it ends but this is where something new sparks to life, this is where the pieces of himself come back together again, in this dance, in the way that he bends and curves and mends, he mends himself all over again.

So it begins here, it starts here, this is not where it ends but this is where he reinvents himself, reinvents the knowledge of himself, reinvents what the world perceives, reinvents what he perceives of himself, what does he see, what does he see?

So it begins here, it starts here, this is not where it ends but this is where the soles of his sneakers skid across the floor in well-practiced movements and familiar steps, this is where he falls back into the one thing he can always count on to keep himself holding on, holding on, holding on to the ground, before he drifts away with a twist and a twirl and the wind and a swirl.

And so, here he begin, and here he ends.

But who is he?

-

U WROTE M YP ROMPT AND I' M SO HURT BY U .....

MY HEAR T WAS JUST RPIPEED OU TO FMY CHEST THANKS
THE TItLE ALONE IS TO O MUCH FOR ME TO HANDLE. ....

fIRST OF ALL, THESE :
"It is one mask, or the other." OU CH
"There is no aid granted to the heavy heart." OUCH OUHCHH COUOCH (couch? what)

THIS ONE
IS THE WORSt
"Hope, the word, it rises in his throat, it ties his hands together and forces the smile up onto his lips, hope, hope, what is he hoping for? What does he hope for, anymore?"
WHO ARE U ??? I NEED TO PERSONALLY YELL AT U FACE 2 FACE I NEED U TO KNOW HOW MUCH YOU'VE HURT ME ..... ...

-
Okay, all incoherency aside, thank you soooo much for filling my prompt! I loved it, despite how much pain I went through as I was reading this (lbr, the pain is the best and worst part). I had expected angst (like, a lot of angst), but damn, this was more than that... amazing ,,,,..... u hurt me so much ...... I don't have much more to say... You're a great writer,,,, u really know how to hurt ppl with a keyboard ... love u xoxoxo me

Title: Visual
Pairing (or character): Jin
Prompt: how does jin see himself in bangtan?
Note: bangtan, happy 1st anniversary ♥

The cheer is loud, and Seokjin smiles to the crowd, warm although it's cold inside, when he fails to stop himself from counting his name among the others, knowing. Of course, the least amount of banners. The MC is asking something to him. It's this question again, of course it's this question again.

Yes, I definitely think I'm the most handsome, he replies. Smooth and rehearsed, unlike his dance, like everybody always points out.

But what really is the use of being the most handsome. It's merely self defense mechanism, Seokjin thinks, when he knows well, how he's almost invisible. How ironic is it that he's supposedly the visual, yet no one is really seeing him.

It's pain, Seokjin thinks, when nobody sees him and yet he sees everybody. He sees the golden maknae and wonders how he ends up being the oldest with the least amount of talent. He sees Taehyung and his confidence of being himself on and off stage, and Seokjin would look in the mirror, asking himself if he still have any of himself left inside. He sees Jimin and his charms, happy despite the constant bullying from the others, and Seokjin tries to think of the last time he knew happy. He sees the rappers and their dreams, he sees the pain and the conflict in their lyrics, and Seokjin wonders what his passion is.

Honestly, Seokjin wants to give up the task of waking up the members to someone else. It gives him too much chance, to see how much Hoseok has aged, with all his worries, to hear Yoongi and his occasional sleep talking, hip hop is dead, to notice how tired Namjoon looks each day, especially that day after the hidden camera. It's too much, Seokjin thinks. Too much to ask Namjoon to choose between his dream and his success.

Seokjin wishes he's not the oldest. Seokjin wishes his fellow members aren't naive twenty-year-olds who laugh and act cute on stage for the sake of the fans. Seokjin wishes his fellow members aren't rapper-turned-idols who contemplate daily whether or not they regret their decision.

He wishes that these things are invisible to him, the way he is invisible to the world.

Seokjin really needs to stop waking up early. It gives him too much time alone, it makes him think, it makes him wonder. About what others think of him, how others see him in Bangtan.

But mornings are silent, and lonely, and Seokjin realizes, drown in somebody else's talents and charms, overshadowed by passion of the others, even he himself has no idea where he fits.

awwww baby ;__;

Title: shadow puppets
Pairing (or character): Rapmon-centric
Warnings: depression
Prompt: "i regret making that song so much"

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1781005

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 2

my first kiss went a little like this (rapmon/supreme boi)

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Flow - J-Hope/Suga

Re: Flow - J-Hope/Suga

untitled - Jimin/Suga

Re: untitled - Jimin/Suga

First Words - Jin/Rap Monster

Re: First Words - Jin/Rap Monster

Stranger by the Door

Re: Stranger by the Door

Pop! Goes My Heart

Re: Pop! Goes My Heart

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no subject

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pretty boy rock, yoongi/seokjin, part 1

pretty boy rock, yoongi/seokjin, part 2

pretty boy rock, yoongi/seokjin, part 3/final

Re: pretty boy rock, yoongi/seokjin, part 3/final

suga/j-hope/(jungkook), light the spark 1/2

suga/j-hope/(jungkook), light the spark 2/2

rapid monologue 1/2

rapid monologue 2/2

Yes, Hyung - Rap Monster/Jungkook

Re: Yes, Hyung - Rap Monster/Jungkook

Same Difference

Late Night Distractions

Re: Late Night Distractions

untitled

Re: Latch

The Five Times Kim Seokjin Witnessed Kim Taehyung Blushing - Jin/V

The game is on - Suga/Jungkook

so, iron me (rewind me to the start)

Re: so, iron me (rewind me to the start)

Visual

Re: Visual

shadow puppets - rap monster-centric