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miscelunaaa · 2 years

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sodium vapor | myg

pairing: yoongi x female reader

genre: angst, the one that got away

summary: Yoongi doesn’t have much going for him, but you don’t need much to grow attached. It’s a pity, then, that you lose each other as quickly as you were found.

rating: 18+ for weighty feelings

word count: 2.1k

warnings: Swearing. That That Yoongi, hELP. Also, introspective Yoongi. Tobacco use by both Yoongi and Reader. Implied broken dreams. Implied alcohol use. Yoongi thinks Reader is pretty. Making out :D. Sadness D:. Missed connections.

notes: Um??? Okay so this was wild, start to finish. As with most of my shorter pieces, it started out trying to be short and ended up double the length I initially intended for it. I just cannot shut up, it seems. I also, um … cried while writing this and I’m not sure why. So there’s that. I don’t usually get especially emotional while writing, but this was something else to render. My writer friends know I’ve been struggling a lot with how I feel about my work and my wips, but this … I don’t know, I just feel uncharacteristically confident about it. Regardless, thank you so much for reading. Let me know what you think

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

The air’s still hot when Yoongi finally has the chance to step out of the bar for a smoke. It’s dry, which he knows should make it better, but the heat of the day has seeped into the concrete all around and it leaches slowly into the night air. The city heat feels greasy somehow, instead of dry like it’s supposed to. Perhaps it has something to do with the tar, the plastic, the strange way that the city sprang up out of the desert.

It doesn’t matter. He’s still stuck here for the night, playing piano for drunk people at a shitty cowboy-themed bar. If he has to play another trashy ragtime tune on that shitty upright piano, he might actually lose his mind. Which means that he’ll be losing it in about ten to fifteen minutes; it’s the shit people like to hear in fake dives like the one he’s working in. Just add some leopard print and a bolo tie and you’ve got Vegas chic.

He’d been a promising talent. Once upon a time.

After lighting his cigarette, he takes a few drags and then finally lets himself lean on the hard wall behind him. At least it’s quiet, he can take a moment for himself in peace.

Suddenly, the bar’s side door slams open and you stumble out of it, swearing quietly under your breath. Yoongi blinks, trying to mask his surprise and irritation at being disturbed.

He recognizes you from inside; you’re with the bachelorette party screaming at every small thing the house cover band does. Stopping here’s probably just a preamble to hitting up the male strip club down the street. There’s not a ton else to do this far out from the main strip, so as annoying as it is, it makes sense.

He can’t wait for all of you to leave, then maybe the volume inside the bar will be bearable again.

It doesn’t seem like you’ve seen him, because the next thing he knows, you’ve got your face in your hands. You let out a long, low groan of frustration. It echoes jut a little off the cement walls of the alley, and he can’t help but chuckle. This apparently startles you, because suddenly you tense up, stepping back for a moment, before realizing who you’re looking at.

Yoongi’s sure he looks ridiculous. He’s wearing ill-fitting trousers and a boxy jacket, some western get up the bar makes the band wear whenever they play here. They’d gone with cream colored suits for some reason, and in his case he’d gone with a leopard print shirt. He might’ve been feeling very drunk and sarcastic the night he bought it. But it matched the hat, so he didn’t think much of it. Vegas chic and all that.

“You startled me,” you say softly, running your fingertips over the bridge of your nose.

“Same, sweetheart,” he grunts. He takes another drag on his cigarette, the heavy air filling his lungs.

“If you’re going to call me sweetheart, at least let me bum a cigarette off you.”

He can’t help the smirk that comes to him, nor can he help the way he reaches into his jacket breast pocket for the pack and his lighter.

“Fair enough. Seem kind of lucid for a bachelorette party.” He holds the pack out, and watches as you take a cigarette carefully from the laminated inner wrapper. “Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, having fun?”

“What makes you say I’m not having fun?” You give him a long look as you hold out your hand for the lighter. You’re pretty, he thinks, even in the shitty, high-pressure sodium light coming from the lamp above the bar’s door.

“Was the groan a happy groan then?”

He almost misses the small pout on your lips before the cigarette is between them and you’re trying to light it. “Look, we’re both out here killing our lungs. I’m guessing your night’s going as well as mine is.”

He feels his own smirk grow a little wider. “I’m on my break at a job I’m paid to do.”

“So is the leopard print part of the uniform then?”

Pretty, but with a little bite, he notes. You’ve now crossed into attractive territory in his mind, but he’s not holding his breath. What are the odds that you’re local? It’s unlikely he’ll ever see you again after tonight.

“Might’ve been drunk when I picked it out,” he shrugs. “Still haven’t really answered my question, by the way. But it’s fine if you don’t.”

You take a drag, the lit end brought to life by your own breath. Funny how they kill you, even as they flicker alive.

“My little sister’s getting married,” you say quietly.

“Congratulations to her.” There’s something else there. He wants to ask the question, and he’ll admit it’s selfish. But it’s also not any of his business.

“Yeah, he’s fine I guess. Her in-laws are fucking assholes, but she’ll be at least happy with him. Can’t relate.” The laugh tumbles out of you bitterly; the contrast to your low, soft voice is strange in Yoongi’s ears.

“The in-laws in there?”

“Yeah, some of them. I don’t like them. And that’s okay, they don’t much like me either. Just means that the next few hours are going to suck.”

“I’m sorry.”

This catches you off guard; he can see it in your eyes as you hold his gaze.

“It’s just a lot. I’m not used to being out in the world like this.”

“I know it’s hard to take a guy wearing leopard print seriously, but I know what you mean. I’m sorry you’ve got to put up with all this.”

“It’s just a weird little mating dance thing. I hate it. This is exactly why I didn’t get married when I had the chance. Too much bullshit.”

“That the only reason you didn’t get married?”

You glance at him, a wry smile finally beginning to show. “If you ask my parents, yes.”

Yoongi grunts. Yeah, he really does understand more than one’d guess, but you seem to have faith in his ability to read context clues. You’ve only just met him, but the armor of talking to a stranger while smoking lends itself to an emotional intimacy he’s not felt for a long time. He’s sure you’ve probably not had it in a while either. It feels like you’ve been holding this shit in, and he knows you know that.

“So now what?” he asks, trying to sound gentle. His cigarette is about spent, smoked down to the butt, getting too hot in his throat and lungs for his taste.

“I go back in there and play nice with the sisters of the groom I guess, and all my sister’s college friends.” When you let out a small sigh, a trail of smoke floats up from your lips like incense. It looks strange in the orange light. “Makes me feel so old. Like I’m babysitting.”

“I’m sure.”

“But for now, I’m going to take this moment for me,” you say, your eyes fluttering closed as you take a breath without the drag, filling your lungs with ordinary air. The cigarette you bummed hangs delicately between your curled fingers. “Thank you. For this, and for the company.”

Yoongi realizes that he wants another cigarette already, even as he’s discarding the spent one in the receptacle. He knows it’s because of you, because he wants to spend more time with you. Is it simply for the excuse of doing so? Or is it because the attraction beginning to make his head spin?

He finally looks up from his empty, unbothered fingers, to meet the gaze he can feel on his cheeks. Even in the orange light, the depth in your eyes is unfathomable.

He can see everything, and it makes his tired heart flutter in his chest.

By now, your own cigarette is nearly spent as well, and, as if it’s a habit you’d never outgrown, you drop it to the ground and step on it briefly, before bending down to pick it back up. You drop it into the receptacle, and then brush your hands off on your skirt.

When your gaze meets his next, it feels as if he’s been hit by a bolt of lightning.

For a moment, neither of you do anything, not even breathe. There’s no words to be shared, no huffs or sighs, just the hum of the sodium vapor bulb above and the road noise echoing into the alley from the street. And then, instead of smoke, from your lips come words.

“Kiss me.”

Yoongi surges forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours. You move your lips against his as your hand creeps up his chest to take a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer. The small bit of momentum has him pressing into you, so that your back gently falls to the wall, letting him feel how your flesh fits against his. With one hand, he continues to caress your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his palm; the other reaches up to take off his hat, letting it fall forgotten to the ground.

He breaks away for a second, his breath heavy in his lungs. You taste like cigarettes and some fruity thing you drank before coming out here. And yet, it feels familiar, somehow, in a way that neither of you will ever be able to describe when looking back on this moment.

You’ll each remember how the other tastes. You’ll remember the way the strange orange light dances on his skin, on his hair. The gruffness of his voice as he laughs and leans back in to take your bottom lip between his teeth.

Yoongi will remember your smile into the kiss. He’ll think about the way your breath caught in your throat as he pressed his tongue against yours. For days after, he’ll brush a finger or two over his mouth, wondering if it was all real, if the heat of your body seeping through your clothes and his was real. If it all even happened, or if it was just the heady desert heat and the sodium vapor light casting its weird shadows again.

Your fingertips brush over the skin exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt, brushing over the chains and the stupid bolo tie he’d started wearing as a joke. Now he’ll think about you whenever he puts it on for this gig.

You’ll think about his hand tilting your face into his, deepening the kiss, for the rest of your life. When you see the pictures taken on this night, you won’t be able to help thinking about the man in the alley, the piano player that you’ll never see again. Not even after visiting the bar again during daytime hours.

He can feel your pulse beneath his palm, racing just the same as his. When he pulls away again, there’s a thread of saliva that stretches and breaks. Before he can lean in for a third kiss, the bar door slams open.

“Yoongi, we’re late for the next set. Get your ass in here.” And then as quickly as he came, his bandmate disappears, the door creaking shut behind him.

He sighs, letting his forehead come to rest against yours. There it is, the hum of the lamp overhead. The sound of your shuddering breaths. Hard pavement underfoot.

Suddenly, you’re pressing forward, pressing your lips to his. A third kiss. The third kiss, rather, because it’s the last one you’ll share together.

“Go,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Wait for me after the show, okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. I—yes.”

You smile at him, and he smiles at you. It strikes Yoongi all at once how odd this is. He doesn’t even know your name, but he doesn’t need it. He knows you more deeply than a name could ever describe. That’s enough for him. This is something past his understanding, and he accepts that.

More hard to accept, for the both of you, is how the universe will keep you apart. You never get the chance to give your party the slip as they move on to their next stop, and Yoongi never gets the chance to shake his band members.

Ill-advised as it might be, both of you find yourselves wandering the strip until late, hoping that maybe, just as fate brought you together the first time, it might bring you together a second.

The only steady company the two of you ever find that night will be the streetlights lighting the way back to your beds.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work.Thank you.

posted: 4.30.2022

#btshoneyhive #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #myg fic #myg fanfic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfiction #angst #myg angst #yoongi angst #I have a lot of feelings rn #there's so much here #I cannot even fathom where it all came from but it's out and holy shit

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thisisadonaldduckblognow · 11 months

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all the rise boys get done dirty on characterization by fandom in different ways i think. (not ALL the time every fanwork etc etc these are just like, trends i tend to notice?) every fandom suffers from losing character nuance.

- leo i’ve talked about plenty on this blog, how some of his canon traits (genuine belief in his skill and cockiness, capacity for joy, his manipulativeness whether for good or ill) seem to get watered down or wiped off the board and supplemented with generic sad boy. his struggles with purpose and identity and not wanting to fail somehow morph into “he hates and completely holds no value for himself”

- donnie’s canon personality gets blurred out and largely replaced with whatever list of Neurodivergent Traits. and i think there’s such a fine line to walk between exploring a character that’s been word of god confirmed as on the spectrum and overwriting what’s canonically there. it’s a hard needle to thread. it also feels like a lot of his canon emotiveness gets left off the table for some reason. bc he does have his moments of flat/deadpan delivery, but a lot of the time he’s honestly very emotive. he has the passion of a theatre kid and the vindictiveness of... also a theatre kid. and the mind of a scientist.

- raph loses so much of his rowdy teen boy energy it’s kind of wild? like interpretations sand off that he’s also impulsive and can be reckless and dumb and LOVES fighting and roughhousing and isn’t the most eloquent person. suddenly there’s this pitch perfect soft boy big bro who would never hurt a fly and always says the exact right supportive thing and singlehandedly raised his 3 brothers (which simultaneously sands off all the nuance of splinter’s issues emotionally connecting with his sons and how that affected all of them). and like i LOVE raph, he’s so full of love and care and anxiety, he clearly has learned to put a lot of work into being aware of his strength and size. but there’s a difference you know?

- mikey is like. where raph gets overparentified by fanon, mikey gets over “family therapist”-ed IMO. the impulsiveness, the goofiness, the powerful emotions including a VERY powerful temper, the flat-out dumb teen boy choices... they get ignored. suddenly there’s this only very sweet and earnest boy who has read a hundred psychology books and runs group family therapy weekly or something. he is crying in his room bc leo and raph are arguing about something. which is so. he IS very sweet and can be very earnest and is full of love! he HAS come in with his opinions and unsolicited advice a couple of times and life coached for the greater good. but there’s a difference between what he does in canon and the role he gets in fanon.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #idk this is not a very eloquent rundown its very hard to explain exactly my vibe #ig the long story short is i feel like a lot of their most interesting and fun qualities get left in the dust #mikey as family therapist is getting under my skin the most rn i think its just so.#for as much as it seems like his brothers try to shelter him (esp raph with his overprotectiveness)..... i just dont see it #i dont see his brothers and definitely not his dad putting their issues on him like that...#him dragging donnie into that one dr feelings session and dragging draxum into a new moral alignment were different #than 'yeah everyone tells mikey their stuff and he has to do the labor of helping with it'#like it just doesnt vibe for me #i think he is very emotionally OPEN on all levels compared to his family #i think he is more likely to share when HE struggles #i dont think raph or leo is sitting with him at 3am like 'it all started when i was 4 and accidentally broke a plate' or what have you idk #it's all so ymmv i do just scroll past stuff i dont vibe with i dont drop hate on it i just #idk dudes its so hard to see the appeal in some of the choices made

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