viviviolets
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Seokjin is floundering. He’s always been a great swimmer is the thing; Yoongi has never known him to be a guy that lets his head slip beneath the surface. And it’s not like he’s drowning now or anything. He’s just downgraded to sloppily doggy paddling in circles, lips sealed tight as his chin bobs dangerously in and out of the water.
Yoongi isn’t the sort of person to jump in after him. But he has a rope, and he’s a decent arm. He’ll see what he can do.
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Seokjin needs a pick-me-up, and Yoongi never does anything halfway.
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It's after the end of the world. Seokjin and his family grow potatoes.
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Today, Master Bang taught me an important lesson. He told me that it is a Jedi’s job to protect those who can’t protect themselves. We speak for those who can’t speak, uplift those left in the shadows. It’s why we’re respected, not feared.
I’ll try my best to be a protector. I’ll do whatever I can, I promise. I might not be good at it yet, but I’ll keep trying. I’ll protect everyone. I’ll be a good Jedi. I will.
-Kim Namjoon’s journal, eight years before the Fall of the Republic
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a story of survival, grief, and love in a galaxy far, far away.
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In this reality, life glows warm and golden. Seokjin leans against Jungkook and basks in it.
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Always— this is a word you must approach carefully when I use it. I say always and I mean that this is something I have found to be true every time I meet you, but not at every part of your life.
When you are twenty-five years old, remember this: I loved you, I have always loved you, I always will.
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Across the span of a hundred lifetimes, Seokjin writes Taehyung letters from the future. Taehyung waits for Seokjin to come home.
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“Mmn.” Taehyung groans when Jimin drags his nails across his scalp. “Why are you doing this to m— for me?”
“What’s Taehyungie so curious for today,” Jimin teases.
Taehyung dips his chin and stares down at his thighs sullenly. “You’re not answering the question. My question.”
Jimin shrugs, not looking at him. “I don’t know. Because I want to. Because it’s you.”
[Or: two boys, chilling in a bathtub. Zero feet apart, because they’re gay.]
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“I can wash the kimchi off for you,” Jimin says once he’s swallowed his bite. Pink-red gleams on his lips, his jaw shifting, tongue rolling around to catch stray green onion.
“Not gonna rinse food in a hotel sink; I’m not a high schooler anymore,” Taehyung says. “I’ll order in later.”
Jimin dips his chopsticks back into the cup, stirring, stirring. One palm curled around to hold it still, he tells his other, stirring hand, “With my mouth.”
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“‘m not worked up,”Jeongguk mutters finally.
Hoseok’s laughter breaks the surface this time, a bright spark-crackle of sound that has Jeongguk hiding his grin against the nape of Hoseok’s neck. “Baby, you’re so worked up right now. If I let you, I think you’d merge into me. What’s got you all spun tight, hm?”
Jeongguk grips his own wrists. The force of want that stirs up nearly swamps him, his jaws aching with impossible things.
or,
A fake dating scheme goes awry... or does it?
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If Hoseok is somewhere, Jimin should be there too. That's just how life works, so when Hoseok goes halfway around the world to perform, it only makes sense that Jimin would make sure life followed that rule. And sure, maybe Jimin has always felt a little differently about this particular bandmate, which might get a little bit in the way, but that's an old problem with an even older solution.
Namely organization, determination, and enough repression to last another decade. Welcome to Lollapalooza!
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He blamed Namjoon for it. He’d put the thought in his head like some curse, that he might not be the one to do the chasing—that the story might find him, and not the other way around. The thought came to him most often on those green-horizon nights, when the world was strange and the chop of the whitecaps reminded him of something alive and seeking breaking the waves.
Jimin frees a trapped merman in the midst of a midnight storm. He expects never to see the mer again, but Jungkook isn't as willing to let him go.