Can you write a quick AU where yoongi is a survival expert and y/n is a novelist and they get stranded? It be nice to have more than one...??? Hehehe
You stared numbly at the wreckage below. Steam, snow vaporized by the white hot twisted remnants, rose up into the air carrying with it the distinctive aroma of meat.
Beside you, Yoongi was rummaging through another pile of plane, his face betraying nothing except collected concentration. It was no different than the expression Min Yoongi usually wore and you could feel your churning guts still marginally. He was a survivalist. Of all the people you–a bookish small time author with the stamina of a sloth–could have been stranded with, you couldn’t have gotten any luckier.
This morning you were hoping on shadowing him for inspiration for your next novel only to be dropped into your own plot. This could be really good for my career… unless we die.
“What are we going to do?” you whispered hoarsely. You retracted further into your parka, pulling your arms from your sleeves and flush against your chest. “You look funny,” he remarked, tilting his chin at your armless sleeves. Your brows knitted, “I don’t know if now is a good time for jokes.” Turning back to his task, he chuckled, “you’re probably right.” “So, what are we going to do?” you repeated. “Head back down the mountain from where we came,” he responded. Unsteadily, you approached him, boots sinking down the snow up to your knees. “Can I help?” “Yes, please.”
He was always so polite–almost to the point of having no personality, but the intensity of his pitch black eyes seemed to indicate otherwise. Despite your insecurities (or perhaps because of them), you found yourself inarguably drawn to Yoongi: his steady hands, soft and deep voice, and his smile. It was rare, something that made it all the more special. You’d only known him a week, so you tried your best to keep your trust in him, just that. For survival.
“I need to find the other snowmobile ski part.” He waved the one he had for emphasis. “Oh, I just saw it,” you mumbled under your breath, carefully retracing your steps as you pulled your arms back through your jacket sleeves. “Here it is, it’s still attached…” You gave it a half hearted tug. The crunching of snow grew louder as Yoongi moved toward you. “I got it,” he murmured, gently nudging you aside. After a grunt and tug, he pried the ski free. At the same time, you wandered away, picking up seemingly random objects and tucking hem into your bag. “What’s that?” You looked down at your hands, “it’s the snowmobile battery.” Yoongi wrinkled his nose, “you should leave it. It’s too heavy.” Unsure, you clutched it tighter, “we can use it for fire.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, “if you can carry it.” Significantly less confident than you had been previously in your find, you stubbornly thrust it into your backpack.
“Okay, so the snow is deep. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll wear the skis like snowshoes and then you can follow behind in my tracks.” “What about them?” your voice dropped quieter all of a sudden, the wind almost carrying your words away before they reached Yoongi’s ears. His eyes softened, “people will have to come back for them once we’re down.”
“They’re dead,” he whispered firmly. You looked down at your hands, gloves now sporting holes from the fire you’d patted out on the rest of your body. They were shaking, but not from the cold. “Come on,” he urged, “we should try to make the tree line before sundown.”
The place on the mountain where’d you’d crashed was high, high enough where the only vegetation grew low to the ground, purple and a dull dark green standing out like bruises on the landscape.
At first, the snow wasn’t especially deep, but the steeper the mountain became and the more pines surrounded you, the more difficult it became–even while following Yoongi ski prints–to keep from sinking waist deep in the icy bluffs. At one point it was so bad, you were afraid Yoongi would lose you and leave you like the people in the plane.
Glancing over his shoulder, Yoongi looked just in time to see you disappear into a six foot deep tree well. You yelped in panic. “Help! Don’t leave me! Yoongi?”
All you could see was the almost circular shape of the sky, too high up to reach. Every time you tried to crawl up, the sides of the hole would crumble, filling with more powdery snow.
Finally, Yoongi peeked over the side. “Are you alright, (y/n)?” “No,” you snapped, fighting back tears of frustration. Useless, you felt utterly useless. There was no possible way you could keep up with Yoongi. Athletic and capable, he was constantly having to stop and wait for you as you were sucked into pockets of snow. You were too chubby, too nerdy. Hiding your face, you sniffed miserably, “sorry.” “Ah, c’mon, it’s alright,” Yoongi reached down and grabbed your arm. Slightly red, you recoiled, “you should just leave me and come back when you get help.” For a moment, Yoongi just stared, his black button eyes piercing yours. “Don’t be stupid,” he finally answered, grabbing you again. This time you complied, struggling to climb over the wall of frozen snow while swallowing your mortification.
You sat to catch your breath and composure. “I’m sorry,” you repeated. “Don’t apologize,” he shook his head offering a small smile, “I actually should have offered to carry you a while back.” You adjusted your hat, the awkward situation compelling you to find something to do with your hands. Yoongi patted you on the shoulder, “you came all this way without complaining once, you’re a lot tougher than you look.” You blinked owlishly, “than I look?” Yoongi laughed, genuine and short, “you’re write books for a living, if you’ll excuse me.” Shrugging, you grinned, “I’ll take it.” “That’s the spirit,” he cheered, pulling you fully to your feet. The exchange warmed you, “you’re just being nice.” “No, I meant it. Here, take the backpack and then I’ll carry you on my back.”
“You won’t get tired?”
“It’ll keep me warm.”